It filled every inch of the screen.
First time I saw this Coen brothers film about life in Hollywood, I was one of five people camped out in a glorious old theater with a screen which stretched on forever.
By the time John Goodman, lathered up in sweat and righteous indignation, was sprinting down a motel hallway as it burst into flame, I was in nirvana.
The two other people in my group, not so much.
I had convinced them to pass on blockbusters in favor of this arty lil’ gem, and neither of them fully appreciated it.