- The Washington Times - Wednesday, June 10, 2009

PHILADELPHIA — Think the only way to see a big-screen movie is while slurping a 64-ounce soft drink, eating a $5 candy bar and shushing the wannabe film critic behind you?

That’s not the case anymore, thanks to people like John Young, creator of the West Chester Guerilla Drive-In and part of a loosely knit network of celluloid renegades resurrecting the drive-in for a new age.

“Nowadays, you push a button, and a movie appears,” he says. “There’s fun in the inconvenience of having to get off the couch and go somewhere you might not be familiar with, maybe getting rained on, maybe being cold. It makes it an adventure.”

For the past four years or so, the 38-year-old Web developer has been showing films — real, honest-to-goodness 16 mm films — from a 1970s school projector mounted on the sidecar of his 1977 BMW motorcycle.

He has presented more than a dozen movies at locations suited for the theme: “Meatballs” at a canoe rental center, “Caddyshack” on a golf course and, most recently, “Ghostbusters” at Fort Mifflin, a favorite haunt of paranormal investigators.

It’s not exactly an evening at the local multiplex — and that’s the point.

“What a great idea. What a great way to see a movie,” says Jim Haighey of West Chester, one of more than 60 people watching “Ghostbusters” projected in front of the fort’s 211-year-old citadel. To be invited to the screening, all the attendees first had to find a hidden AM transmitter and tune in to hear an access code before getting the movie’s location via e-mail.

It was a soggy night at the Revolutionary War fort on the Delaware River, and the 1984 comedy was interrupted every few minutes by planes zooming overhead on their way to the runways at nearby Philadelphia International Airport, but that only seemed to add to the moviegoers’ enjoyment.

Guerrilla drive-ins or “MobMovs” — shorthand for mobile movies — are popping up around the country in a variety of configurations.

Unlike Mr. Young’s old-school use of real film, guerrilla drive-ins typically eschew the analog in favor of DVDs and LCD projectors.

Also, while West Chester’s guerrillas bring lawn chairs to watch their movies under the stars (weather permitting), other groups maintain the drive-in tradition of watching from inside their cars. Audio is heard through each car’s radio by way of an FM transmitter.

Whatever the arrangement, guerrilla drive-ins give new meaning to the phrase “community theater.” People can get up, walk around and socialize during the show if they wish, and some MobMovs take on the feel of tailgate parties.

Eric Kurland, 41, a native of Bucks County, Pa., who is an independent filmmaker living in Los Angeles, runs a popular four-year-old weekly showing, HollyMobMov.

“I miss the old drive-ins,” says Mr. Kurland, who remembers the thrill of seeing “Star Wars” in 1977 at a now-long-defunct drive-in near his Pennsylvania home. “It’s like nothing else, and people are really hungry for that kind of experience.”

Although they’re decidedly do-it-yourselfers, all aspiring MobMovers are urged to keep it legal by securing required approvals from property owners and film distributors, who charge roughly $150 to $300 for a showing. Guerrilla drive-ins typically are free, with attendees’ donations used to offset the organizer’s expenses.

Since 2005, 28-year-old San Francisco Web developer Bryan Kennedy has shown classics as well as independent films looking for distributors. He runs MobMov.org, a site that lists 240-plus movie mobs around the world, including chapters in Arlington, Alexandria, Bethesda and Baltimore.

“A lot of independent filmmakers are enabled by modern technology [to make their own movies], but the area where they’re not enabled is distribution,” he says. “There’s no channel for them to get out there, no audience interaction or feedback. We can help support that.”

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