Afterward, Tarantino and I are standing outside, when kids milling about start gathering up the nerve to approach him. After one does, a line forms. Tarantino talks to everyone, his grin never faltering, as fans profess their thanks and gratitude — for his movies, for the theater, for just talking to them. It seems as if he could keep this up all night, but he is hungry and his favorite nearby restaurant will stop serving soon.

Before he heads off, I mention how remarkable the communal experience of watching a movie on a screen with a large and willing audience is — and with an actual print — after seeing so much television alone or renting movies online. Tarantino nods, and uses our last few moments together to rally one more time against the digitizing of the moviegoing experience. ‘‘If Buzzy, the kid who pops the popcorn, simply hits play on the menu then we’re just there watching HBO in public,’’ he says. ‘‘And I don’t know about you, but I don’t need to watch HBO with a bunch of strangers.’’

Tarantino’s desire to have community around films is what makes me love him. His hatred of digital makes him come off as an elitist who doesn’t like it when other people can see the same things as him, or even worse, be able to make movies that look like his. For someone who has so willingly and effectively “borrowed” from other great artists, you’d think he would embrace tools that enabled that on an even grander level.