Alone in the dark
I did it for years and, frankly, quite often. Then I read an article in The Wall Street Journal about a woman who never did it in her whole life until she was 27. Boy, different people sure are, well, different.
I should probably explain what I am talking about. The article, which I read way back in June, was about a woman named Claire, who went to see the movie I, Tonya. Of course, there was nothing unusual about that. What was unusual—for Claire anyway—was that she went to the cinema by herself.
John Jurgeson’s article tells us that she “was worried other moviegoers were watching as she picked out a single seat.” She fretted, “Are they judging me like some dateless freak? Do they know that I made this choice voluntarily?”
I can sympathize with Claire up to a point. I think most of us might be intimidated about going into, say, a restaurant—particularly a very nice one where people are mostly there on dates—and asking for a table for one. In that situation you might understandably feel as though you are on display, as the eyes of fellow diners scan the room and alight on you. I have to say, though, the dining-alone scenario came to feel much less daunting to me some years ago when I read an article in some upscale magazine about how Jackie Onassis could frequently be spotted dining alone at Maxim’s in Paris. Nobody was calling her a loser—mainly because she could afford to eat at Maxim’s. But I digress.
Going to a cinema alone has never been a problem for me. In fact, for much of my life it has been my preferred way of seeing a film. For many people watching a movie is little more than a way of spending time with a friend or companion. For me, the point was always to see the movie—and the friend or companion could come along if she or he wanted. My earliest movie-going buddy was my childhood friend Eric, and we saw many films together. When we eventually reached an age, though, when we were no long spending much time together regularly—he had to work through a few bad habits, addictions and a disastrous early marriage or two—I took to going to films by myself. I did not find the experience lonely at all. In fact, it was great. There was no one in the next seat to distract me at a crucial point in the story. No one was trying to start a post-film discussion while the end credits were still rolling. No one was whispering spoilers in my ear because of something he had heard or perhaps because he had already seen the movie.
In other words, I discovered years ago what Claire discovered this past summer. “She feels liberated,” the WSJ informs us, “from the hassle of recruiting friends, getting them all to agree on a movie, coordinating ticket purchases, and trekking to a mutually convenient theater in New York. Instead, she breezes into the theater near her apartment or work, unilaterally picks a seat, and settles in with the snacks she prefers, like cheese and crackers, plus wine from a water bottle stashed in her purse.” Still, she always buys her ticket at an automated kiosk because she hates to say “one, please” to a human being.
Jurgeson goes on to report that there is a discernible pattern of more people going to the cinema unaccompanied. A couple of the movie-goers he interviewed said they like to be able to cry openly at movies like Coco and Love, Simon while surrounded by people they do not know. Some, like myself, prefer to go at times when the theater is not very crowded, but for different reasons than mine. For me, fewer attendees mean less likelihood of boorish behavior from others. For them, it is to feel less self-conscious about their own public emoting. “I love an empty theater,” said a 20-year-old, describing how much she enjoyed being the only one at a screening of the action flick 12 Strong in Tacoma, Washington. “I have very big reactions when I’m by myself.”
Another advantage of going by oneself—one not mentioned in the article—is that you can sit through two or more movies at a time. In my experience, not many dates want to do that. Indeed, I have many fond memories of spending days off work sitting by myself through double and triple-feature programs in suburban multiplexes. That is how I once spent a Thanksgiving—seeing both Jean-Jacques Annaud’s Seven Years in Tibet and Sean Mathias’s Bent—and I’m a bit sheepish to admit it was one of the best Thanksgivings I ever had.
Of course, there is a word for people who see a lot of movies by themselves, and that word is single. It is surely safe to assume that married people and parents are quite a bit less likely to visit the cinema solo. This has certainly been true in my case. Once my kid was old enough to take an interest in movies, cinema outings pretty much became a family thing. Lone excursions became rarer and rarer. It got to the point that I could not actually remember the last time I had seen a movie in a cinema by myself.
That may be changing now that my offspring has left home for college. In May I found myself traveling into Galway to see Avengers: Infinity War with no one tagging along, and it was a very strange experience. What was most strange about it was that it would feel so strange going to a movie by myself—something I had done hundreds, if not thousands, of times in my life. I cannot say I was lonely sitting there by myself, but I was certainly aware of how accustomed I had become to having company on movie outings. And having someone with whom to discuss the movie afterwards—after the end credits had all finished rolling, of course.
What is there about the need to share an experience like film watching? It’s enough to make you think about writing a blog.
-S.L., 4 October 2018
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