What a difference a day makes. Today was a ‘sun is shining, birds are singing, work is getting done’ kind of day. Polished off the To Do list, went out for lunch, bought The Great Gatsby (I blush even as I admit I’ve never read it), went to choir and then, in an event worthy of the front page of this week’s local paper
On my own.
There are two schools of thought regarding Tickets For One at the cinema. You’re either in the camp (mixing metaphors, who me?) who loves the idea (that would be me) or in the camp that suggests that people who venture solo to the movies are sad, lonely losers with no life and no friends.
I could try winning you over with the whole ‘watching a movie with someone is like reading a book over someone’s shoulder’ argument, but nobody really buys that. So I’ll try something different.
It's fun. There is nothing like sitting in the dark by yourself, with your own (small) softdrink and your own (large) bag of M&Ms. You, the chocolate, the intimacy of the cinema, and a story writ large across the screen.
You can laugh when you like without censorship. Cry into your popcorn if you want to. Mutter under your breath. Roll Jaffas down the aisle. Whatever floats your boat.
You have personal space out the wazoo (nobody ever wants to sit near the weirdo on their own) and the pleasure of at least 90 minutes of pure escapism.
In Fibrotown, there’s even an added bonus. Choose a late-night (that would be 9pm) session and a slightly off-beat film (anything less than Avatar should do it), and you’ll also have the whole place to yourself. Yep, private screenings. But don’t tell anyone.
I was a bit disappointed to walk in tonight and discover that I had to share my cinema with a crowd of five. But we all sat in different rows so, you know, I didn’t have to get all Diva-like about it.
When it was over, I stood up – before the credits finished rolling – slipped out the side door, into the car and home. Simple. Neat. Easy.
Too easy for the ‘Movies are for two’ crowd. You’re right, I didn’t have anyone to discuss the film with. But that’s okay. Most of the time I like to sit with a film for a little while. Think about it. Let it roll around in my head.
If we’d been together at the film, you’d have asked me ‘what did you think?’. I’d have said ‘I liked it, bit sad at the end’. And then we would have had coffee and talked about Brendan Cowell’s ears.
On my own, I got to think about the beauty of the Flanders blue mud. The many nuances of male relationships. The ingenuity of man. The futility of war. How incredibly uncomfortable those World War One uniforms must have been in all that water. Why there’s a sporting fixture in every war movie. And how clever Jeremy Sims was to come up with this particular film at this particular time.
The movie was Beneath Hill 60. It’s well worth seeing. I suggest you go on your own.