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We're like you—we like to lounge. We like to recline, to chill, to be fed grapes, to be ferried about like a pasha on a palanquin. Then, we like to be fanned, pampered, complimented, and generally lavished, even.
At The Edge 5 cinema/arcade/bar/Laser tag arena (yes, you read that right) in Belleville, they're down with the whole fawning-over-the-customer thing.
It's not difficult to explain—it all comes down to two buttons: the button on your right, which reclines the La-Z-Boy-style seat so far back you can look at the patrons behind you in the theatre; and the button on your left, which summons the cinema waitress.
Yes, that's right, the cinema waitress. Not so unlike the "pool waitress" from National Lampoon's Vacation, the cinema waitress works in a challenging milieu, and she's a most welcome sight.
You can order everything from "Italian steak bites" to T-Ravs (we endorse the slider trio, featuring beef, chicken, and salmon sliders) from a cinema waitress at either of the Edge's "Movie Bistro" cinemas, but, reported manager Kendra Lanxon, most moviegoers minimize the possibility for in-film interruptions by placing their order during the previews.
Not us. Last Sunday night at the Edge, we welcomed the interruptions. Not because Dredd, the gory, sci-fi feature we witnessed was dreadful—actually, it was pleasantly bleak and brutal, in its way. No, we were happy to receive Lanxon and cohorts in mid-film simply because... we could. The movie waitresses refilled our drink, brought us sliders (which we ate by feel in the darkened cinema), consulted us on questions re: the menu, and provided a delightful popcorn cooked in coconut oil and salted in media res by the patron with a full complement of flavored salts. (We endorse the kettle-corn flavor.) It was a novelty. It was most helpful and courteous. And, as we've noted, it made us feel like the proper voluptuary, indeed.
Lanxon explained the finer points of providing the in-cinema dining service. First, the server notices a colored square popping up on the cinema's employee computer monitor, corresponding to a particular seat in the theatre. If the square is green, the patron is requesting service, just like a customer on an air flight asking for help from the flight attendant. If it's yellow, the customer has been waiting a bit longer. If it's red, the customer might be steamed, because that means he or she has been very patient, waiting for a server yet to make an appearance.
When Lanxon delivers food and drinks, she said, she stands behind the moviegoer's seat and leans forward to place the goodies on a lecture-hall-style tray positioned just above the seat. In this way, she tries not to obstruct anyone's view of the film.
When speaking with patrons in the midst of the movie, she modulates her voice to be heard—she'll whisper during the soft parts (like when Judge Dredd is tiptoeing up behind someone to shoot them), and speak more loudly during big action scenes (like when Judge Dredd is shooting someone).
The Movie Bistros are an exercise in sybaritism, but they're not the only attraction. The Edge also offers a huge arcade space with the kind of video games that the Dave & Buster's crowd seems to be into these days—physically huge games where you ride a virtual motorcycle, box an invisible opponent, recline within a mini-theatre with seats that move and shake, shoot zombies infesting a pirate ship, etc, etc. Some of these games are so large they had to be placed in a vestibule with a higher ceiling. A digital, light-up version of the old board game Connect Four had to be 12 feet high. For other traditionalists, there's skee-ball, too. Many of the games spout tickets that you can redeem for stuffed animals and other gewgaws made in China.
The Edge is proud of its 14,000-square-foot Laser tag arena, supposedly one of the largest such dedicated spaces on the planet. The playing area is a maze of small chambers, ramps, and obstructions to be used for cover, all painted in Day-Glo and illumined by black lights. It fills with fog and spooky music during the games, so that our children may experience the highs of an Italian disco, circa 1981.
But forget the kiddies—The Edge was built around D.S. Vespers, the bar and grill that has occupied several locations over the years in Belleville. The bar's kitchen supplies the Movie Bistro as well, and the tavern offers a convenient resting place with hard beverages for adults waiting for their Laser-tagging, video-gaming kids to tire out like puppies and be driven home.
You could also leave your teen inside one cinema, so he or she can take in the latest pregnant-vampire flick, whilst you park yourself in an adjacent one, to watch something -- anything -- else. Indeed, it was extra-fun watching Dredd, a movie set in a grim, post-apocalyptic urban wasteland, while pushing salmon and beef sliders into my pie-hole. The contrast was tantamount to Schadenfreude, with high-calorie snacks and cocktails available at the push of the button on the left.
The Edge, 701 South Belt West, Belleville, Ill., 618-236-2101, edge618.com.
Photographs by Byron Kerman
