Thoughts and observations on the science of "Solo Moviegoing."
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I can count the number of movies I've seen at a theater by myself on one hand. I don't know, I've always thought going to the movies was a "together" thing, either with some significant other, or with a few friends.
First there was moviegoing with my parents. I remember going to see "Grease" and "Saturday Night Fever" at the nearby air force base theater. I think my mom was a Travolta fan. Anyway, those were the first two movies I remember seeing at a theater, and I especially remember "Saturday Night Fever" because I had gotten a cool Star Wars digital LED watch the day before. You know, those tacky, red-lit watches where you had to press a button and the four, "8-shaped" red LEDs would light up for four seconds and tell you the time and date. During some boring part in the movie, I remember playing with my Star Wars watch and was amazed at how bright it looked in the dark. Those cheesy red LEDs were freakin' bright. My dad wasn't as amused, however, and told me to stop fidgeting or we were going to leave.
And then there was one time when my parents tried to get a babysitter so they could go watch an X-rated movie. At least that's what I thought they were going to see. Maybe it was something R-rated. Back in those days, they used to show X-rated movies in kinda-respectable theaters here in Hawaii. Not anymore. So I overheard them talking about having a night out on the town without me and mentioned some movie with the word "sex" in the title. That meant a lot of kissing to a six-year-old. While I didn't want to watch a movie with a lot of kissing in it, I begged them to go because I loved movies, and I loved getting out of the house at night, or out of the house, period. They told me they were going to watch a movie for grown-up people, and since six was far from a grown-up age, I couldn't go. I begged and begged anyway. And my begging, along with the fact that they couldn't find a babysitter at such a last minute made them give in.
Well, the movie was indeed for adults, but it wasn't X-rated, and it didn't have the word "sex" in it. It did include the word "alien." As a matter of fact, that's what the title was: "Alien." And it's a movie experience I've never forgotten to this day because I ended up not sleeping for a whole goddamn week. I'd scream "ALIEN! ALIEN!" in the middle of the night at the top of my lungs because I thought the mean, nasty alien who ate people in their underwear would slurp me and my bright LED Star Wars watch right up.
After that initial burst of moviegoing with my parents in the late 70s, we never really went out as a family to the movies (probably as a result of that "Alien" incident, I guess). That is until about seventeen years later, when we caught the first "Mission Impossible" movie showing at the exact same air force base theater where we watched the Travolta double feature. It was weird, seeing a movie with my parents as an adult in the same theater I first saw movies as a kid in.
My second phase of moviegoing started when my uncle came in from out of town and noticed my family didn't go out much. He had a friend also in town, and they liked to go out to clubs and watch movies a lot. I was only in the seventh grade, so clubs were pretty much out of the question for me, but my uncle tried to take me to as many movies with him and his friend as possible. So I got to see "The Karate Kid, Pt.II" (probably the first movie I'd seen in a theater in six or seven years, after that fateful night with the alien), "Top Gun," and a whole bunch of other crap that should've been relegated to cable TV.
Then my uncle left and went back to the Philippines. It was back to me being a hermit, living at the hermit house with my hermit parents.
Then I started high school and got a girlfriend.
To me, that's the ultimate movie-going experience. Going to a movie with someone you love, someone you think you love, or someone whom you want to make love you. I think movies are meant to be a shared experience. While it's a guarantee that going to a theater itself will put you alongside strangers, the movie-going experience is made even deeper -- the bond stronger between two or more people -- when you see a movie with people you know. Or getting to know. And that's regardless of whether you all end up liking or disliking the movie.
In high school and college, I'd go to tons of movies, not only because I loved them, but it was also a big social experience that would bring "kind-of-know-them friends" closer. A study group gets out early? Let's go catch the new Star Trek or Adam Sandler flick. You've got a three hour break between classes? I don't -- but I'll skip my art class so we can go see the new Woody Allen movie at the Varsity. I've got an 8:30 class the next day, but who gives a shit? Let's go catch the midnight premiere of "Showgirls" tonight at Wallace Theaters if you're game.
So what was I talking about? Oh yeah, watching movies alone in a theater.
Like I've said earlier, I've been to less than five movies alone in my lifetime. There's a science to going to a movie solo, because you don't want to be seen alone at a theater. Then everyone would think you're a loser. Which you are, of course, since you're going to the movies alone, but you don't want others to know that. Anyway, the key is to sneak in right as the movie is starting, so nobody's paying attention to you taking that corner seat towards the bottom, by the walkway. There's a risk you take if you go to a very popular flick in the beginning of its run because the single accessible seats are harder to come by, so go to a movie in its third or fourth week, to ensure the theater is at least a quarter empty.
Some theaters even have a couple of handicapped seats, usually one on each side facing the screen with a whole bunch of empty space next to them. The single seat would be for the handicapped person's companion, and the empty space to the immediate left or right would be for the said handicapped person to wheel themselves into. I got lucky recently and found myself one of these "friends of handicapped" seats just as the trailers started for my movie.
I don't intend to make these solo movie flight missions a normal thing. If I saw a movie alone every day for the next year, it still wouldn't match the number of films I've watched in a theater with that special someone or bunch of friends. Going to the movies alone can be a depressing experience, and that feeling usually subsides for the two hours you're sitting in the theater, immersed in that movie's world. That's because you're transported to wherever the movie takes you, away from the sorry-ass life you call your own.
Then the movie ends. You sneak out, blending in with the mass of people heading for the exits. You get outside into the bright sun and realize, hey -- the movie sucked and I've got nobody to tell.
-----
I can count the number of movies I've seen at a theater by myself on one hand. I don't know, I've always thought going to the movies was a "together" thing, either with some significant other, or with a few friends.
First there was moviegoing with my parents. I remember going to see "Grease" and "Saturday Night Fever" at the nearby air force base theater. I think my mom was a Travolta fan. Anyway, those were the first two movies I remember seeing at a theater, and I especially remember "Saturday Night Fever" because I had gotten a cool Star Wars digital LED watch the day before. You know, those tacky, red-lit watches where you had to press a button and the four, "8-shaped" red LEDs would light up for four seconds and tell you the time and date. During some boring part in the movie, I remember playing with my Star Wars watch and was amazed at how bright it looked in the dark. Those cheesy red LEDs were freakin' bright. My dad wasn't as amused, however, and told me to stop fidgeting or we were going to leave.
And then there was one time when my parents tried to get a babysitter so they could go watch an X-rated movie. At least that's what I thought they were going to see. Maybe it was something R-rated. Back in those days, they used to show X-rated movies in kinda-respectable theaters here in Hawaii. Not anymore. So I overheard them talking about having a night out on the town without me and mentioned some movie with the word "sex" in the title. That meant a lot of kissing to a six-year-old. While I didn't want to watch a movie with a lot of kissing in it, I begged them to go because I loved movies, and I loved getting out of the house at night, or out of the house, period. They told me they were going to watch a movie for grown-up people, and since six was far from a grown-up age, I couldn't go. I begged and begged anyway. And my begging, along with the fact that they couldn't find a babysitter at such a last minute made them give in.
Well, the movie was indeed for adults, but it wasn't X-rated, and it didn't have the word "sex" in it. It did include the word "alien." As a matter of fact, that's what the title was: "Alien." And it's a movie experience I've never forgotten to this day because I ended up not sleeping for a whole goddamn week. I'd scream "ALIEN! ALIEN!" in the middle of the night at the top of my lungs because I thought the mean, nasty alien who ate people in their underwear would slurp me and my bright LED Star Wars watch right up.
After that initial burst of moviegoing with my parents in the late 70s, we never really went out as a family to the movies (probably as a result of that "Alien" incident, I guess). That is until about seventeen years later, when we caught the first "Mission Impossible" movie showing at the exact same air force base theater where we watched the Travolta double feature. It was weird, seeing a movie with my parents as an adult in the same theater I first saw movies as a kid in.
My second phase of moviegoing started when my uncle came in from out of town and noticed my family didn't go out much. He had a friend also in town, and they liked to go out to clubs and watch movies a lot. I was only in the seventh grade, so clubs were pretty much out of the question for me, but my uncle tried to take me to as many movies with him and his friend as possible. So I got to see "The Karate Kid, Pt.II" (probably the first movie I'd seen in a theater in six or seven years, after that fateful night with the alien), "Top Gun," and a whole bunch of other crap that should've been relegated to cable TV.
Then my uncle left and went back to the Philippines. It was back to me being a hermit, living at the hermit house with my hermit parents.
Then I started high school and got a girlfriend.
To me, that's the ultimate movie-going experience. Going to a movie with someone you love, someone you think you love, or someone whom you want to make love you. I think movies are meant to be a shared experience. While it's a guarantee that going to a theater itself will put you alongside strangers, the movie-going experience is made even deeper -- the bond stronger between two or more people -- when you see a movie with people you know. Or getting to know. And that's regardless of whether you all end up liking or disliking the movie.
In high school and college, I'd go to tons of movies, not only because I loved them, but it was also a big social experience that would bring "kind-of-know-them friends" closer. A study group gets out early? Let's go catch the new Star Trek or Adam Sandler flick. You've got a three hour break between classes? I don't -- but I'll skip my art class so we can go see the new Woody Allen movie at the Varsity. I've got an 8:30 class the next day, but who gives a shit? Let's go catch the midnight premiere of "Showgirls" tonight at Wallace Theaters if you're game.
So what was I talking about? Oh yeah, watching movies alone in a theater.
Like I've said earlier, I've been to less than five movies alone in my lifetime. There's a science to going to a movie solo, because you don't want to be seen alone at a theater. Then everyone would think you're a loser. Which you are, of course, since you're going to the movies alone, but you don't want others to know that. Anyway, the key is to sneak in right as the movie is starting, so nobody's paying attention to you taking that corner seat towards the bottom, by the walkway. There's a risk you take if you go to a very popular flick in the beginning of its run because the single accessible seats are harder to come by, so go to a movie in its third or fourth week, to ensure the theater is at least a quarter empty.
Some theaters even have a couple of handicapped seats, usually one on each side facing the screen with a whole bunch of empty space next to them. The single seat would be for the handicapped person's companion, and the empty space to the immediate left or right would be for the said handicapped person to wheel themselves into. I got lucky recently and found myself one of these "friends of handicapped" seats just as the trailers started for my movie.
I don't intend to make these solo movie flight missions a normal thing. If I saw a movie alone every day for the next year, it still wouldn't match the number of films I've watched in a theater with that special someone or bunch of friends. Going to the movies alone can be a depressing experience, and that feeling usually subsides for the two hours you're sitting in the theater, immersed in that movie's world. That's because you're transported to wherever the movie takes you, away from the sorry-ass life you call your own.
Then the movie ends. You sneak out, blending in with the mass of people heading for the exits. You get outside into the bright sun and realize, hey -- the movie sucked and I've got nobody to tell.
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