Back then, when the internet and smartphones were still unfamiliar concepts, mobile film screenings organized by the district's cultural department or performances by a theatrical troupe in the countryside were memorable forms of entertainment for everyone.

I still vividly remember the exhilarating feeling that made my heart race whenever the village loudspeaker blared: "Hello, hello! Today, the district's mobile film screening team is here to serve the people..." That loudspeaker was like a sacred signal to me, awakening the inherent tranquility of the countryside and igniting an unusual sense of urgency within me. I hurriedly arranged my household chores, afraid of being too late and missing the moment to watch those captivating films.

A photograph of a movie screen during the subsidy period. Archival photo.

But perhaps, in the deepest recesses of my memory, the most beautiful image wasn't the glittering scenes on the screen, but the sight of my father. I'll never forget his calloused hands, carefully taking a two-cent coin from his faded jacket pocket and giving it to his son. For a child like me at that time, two cents wasn't just a ticket to the magical world of cinema, but also a fortune, a testament to the love and care my father had reserved just for me. Holding the tiny, smooth coin in my hand, already damp with sweat from nervousness, I ran like lightning to the ticket counter in front of the Cooperative's warehouse, leaving everything behind to reach for my dream.

At exactly 7 PM, the film screening began. In the thick darkness of the summer night, the light from the projector pierced the space, casting a hazy black-and-white film onto the canvas screen stretched before me. I preferred to sit close to the projector to clearly hear the regular "clicking" of the gears and rollers, sometimes interspersed with the "hissing" of scratched film. These rudimentary mechanical sounds, to me, were a captivating melody.

Officers and cadets of the Air Force Officer School watch a movie on a large screen in 2020.

After the short documentary, the main film was screened. Titles like "Every Kilometer"—a Soviet color war film—or "Until We Meet Again"—a black-and-white romantic drama from Vietnamese cinema—have been deeply imprinted in my mind, becoming a part of my being. I was immersed in the heroic battles and touching love stories, oblivious to the passage of time outside.

Now, the explosion of the 4.0 era has caused the traditional film screening profession to gradually lose its dominant position. The golden age of outdoor movie screenings in the cooperative's yard has faded into the past. For me, the desire to return to that golden age will probably remain a long, regretful dream. The hazy black-and-white films, the clicking sound of the projector on a summer night, and even the two-cent banknotes smelling of my father's sweat—all now exist only in the memories of a bygone era...

    Source: https://www.qdnd.vn/van-hoa/doi-song/ky-uc-ve-mot-thoi-xem-phim-man-anh-rong-1039251