For years, I told myself I would never do it. I would not be that person. I couldn't bear the thought; I didn’t want people to look at me, judging me. I refused to be the person sitting in the theater by myself, trying to pass the time before the previews with no one to talk to, no one to laugh with.
I had been lucky. Once I moved out on my own, I rarely missed out on seeing a movie that I wanted to see. I could always find someone to go with me. I had a network of sorts. Niju for action movies, Tina for dramas, Nida for pretty much whatever struck our fancy at the moment. That was the normal rotation - the core group - and then there were several others who I knew would be up for seeing something if the mood struck. As a cinephile vehemently against sitting in the dark theater alone, it was a perfect position to be in. Until it wasn't.
It started in 2010, when my most recently found movie buddy decided to move away. Ok, I thought, I have others. Well, scheduling things got more complicated. Tina and Niju were perpetually busy with school and/or family stuff. Heather and Stephanie were pretty much always up for a movie date, but we all had our own things going on. Nida was my go-to person. 2pm on a Sunday, midnight on a Tuesday, Saturday morning….if there was something out worth seeing, we'd print off our refreshment coupons and we were good to go. Most of the movies I saw in college were with her…I don't even want to think about how many gallons of popcorn and Diet Coke we ingested. But Nida got busier too, Heather got married and had a baby, and Stephanie was focused on her officer training.
After 2 years, the problem that had been such a slow burn I was unaware of it finally came to a head. There was a movie I had been dying to see. A Wes Anderson film about awkward family relations and overly intelligent children. You know the one. Oh, that is too vague to narrow it down? Welcome to the world of Wes then. Anyway, I had heard nothing but great things about this film, including a review from the friend who abandoned our movie outings in 2010. I had to see it, but I was faced with a problem. Everyone was occupied. To see it, I would have to get past my fear of sitting alone in a room full of people.
I hemmed and hawed for a couple of days. I got myself excited to see the film and talked myself out of it about a dozen times. I left the showtimes page open on my desktop so I could reassess the feasibility of going every time it crossed my mind. I even made a mental list of which showtime would be best for a solo-viewer-virgin like myself.
I settled on an early Sunday morning show. I figured this would have fewer people in attendance, and would probably be shown in smaller theater, so I might not feel quite so awkward. I got up, got dressed, and drove to the theater. I was jittery and still unsure I was actually going to go through with it. As I walked to the entrance, I was hit with a wave of panic. I did not want to go up to the ticket window and it be so obvious that I was alone. There weren't enough people around that I could just blend in, and it seemed like everyone was going to see different movies - the downside of wanting to see an artsier movie rather than a blockbuster. To avoid the embarrassment that was likely all in my head, I opted to by my ticket from the automated teller. Phew, got through that one.
The concessions stand was completely bypassed. I didn't really want anything anyway, I told myself, as I tried to remember which direction the ticket-taker said. Once I entered and found a seat near the aisle - easy access if I needed to leave for some reason - I surveyed the crowd. It was a small theater, with seats for less than 100, and there were only a dozen or so people there. I was the youngest by several decades. To pass the time before the movie started, which was only a couple of minutes because I had apparently timed it well, I perused all the normal social networking sites I'd have been on if I was still at home. So far, so good.
Once the movie started, I was so thoroughly engrossed in what I was watching that I forgot I was there alone. The film was beautiful, but that is for another time. Once it ended and the lights came back up, I got up and swiftly exited the theater. Walking to my car, I felt a plethora of things simultaneously. I was touched by the film and I couldn't wait to talk to my friend about it. I was proud of myself for going through with it rather than chickening out at the last minute. But mostly, I was actually content with the entire process.
I told myself that this was perfectly acceptable for smaller, independent movies. I wasn't sure I could do it with a big box office smash, or on a Friday night. I decided I would probably work up to that. But in that moment, I was happy.
Yes, it's nice to have someone to chat with before the previews begin, but in the day of smart phones, it's not necessary. The awkwardness of finding a single seat was easily surpassed by setting my purse on the seat next to me; to the untrained eye, it may seem like I'm saving it for a person yet to come. Though really, I'm sure no one but me even paid any attention. And once a movie starts, I'd rather be silently engulfed by the film than have someone whispering to me anyway. There are few things worse than people who talk in movies.
The only thing that I found I was missing was someone to analyze the film with afterwards. That was easily thwarted by having movie-loving friends who had similar taste. I could find someone who had seen it already as well, and we could discuss as we normally would. Also, I'm incapable of remembering which trailers I see before a movie, which made looking them up when I got home slightly more difficult.
As I drove home, and in the days after (in which I went and saw several more films alone, taking advantage of my new-found ability), I thoroughly considered why I had been so terrified of this non-issue. Is it a social more that we're supposed to follow? Is being alone really that horrible? The judgments of others don't actually matter, so why should I care of an old lady looks at me pityingly or a teenage couple gives me a derisive look? I have surpassed their juvenile need to have someone with me. I have outgrown that insecurity. So they can be derisive or pitying or whatever they like. I don't care. I'm just here to watch the movie.
1.7.2012 - Moonrise Kingdom
6.7.2012 - The Amazing Spiderman
10.7.2012 - To Rome with Love
13.7.2012 - The Intouchables
16.7.2012 - Ted
20.7.2012 - The Dark Knight Rises
3.8.2012 - Beasts of the Southern Wild
26.8.2012 - Paranorman
1.9.2012 – 4:35pm
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