When I was a kid, we went to movie matinees every single Saturday.  A pack of neighborhood kids would cram into one neighborhood car and be dropped off by a neighborhood parent at the Avon Theatre in the crumbling downtown of our small Southern town.  The Avon was crumbling, too.  Wondering if cracked art deco plaster decorations would fall and crush us really punched up un-animated Disney attempts to turn our brains to listless pudding.  Harry The Lonesome Cougar comes to mind.  When Disney documentaries got too dull to bear, we'd traipse up and down the aisles chattering and buying more candy until the one person who was actually watching the movie complained and had us ejected.  Then we'd shop at the department store next to the theatre for more candy until it was time to go stand innocently outside of the theatre so our designated parental picker-upper wouldn't know that we'd been kicked out of the movie.

     "Blah.  What does this shit have to do with monsters?," you ask...