Do you ever go to a movie alone and feel like the ticket seller is giving you a rude look? A look that says, “Don’t you know movies are for couples or groups?” Maybe it’s just me.
But I would argue that movies are naturally a solo endeavor. Certainly, a movie is a terrible first-date option. Every time you laugh, you think your date is judging your sense of humor. Every time she laughs, you think she thinks you are judging her sense of humor. You wonder if you should laugh, too. Or not laugh, lest it seem forced. It’s a completely awkward situation. Especially that time I took a date to “Rambo” and laughed uncontrollably while Stallone was mowing down the entire Burmese military with a truck-mounted machine gun. (Just kidding, that never happened. The date part. The movie plot is accurate.)
Movies are also a decent option if you’re going with old friends with whom you can be silent for two hours. Mediocre movies are good choices for groups — something that’s part of a series or a well-established genre. Something like “Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull” or “X-men Origins: Wolverine” works well because you’ll naturally segue into a post-screening debate about where it ranks against previous films in the series.
Bad movies, of course, aren’t fun whether you’re alone or in a group. But for really good movies, I actually enjoy watching them alone — if I see a movie that really connects with me, and my companions think it was nothing special, I take it personally.
I remember three cases where I had the whole theater to myself. In two cases, I felt like I snuck into the theater unnoticed because the projectionist started the film 15 minutes late. In 1997, I saw “The Empire Strikes Back” Special Edition — roughly my seventh viewing that year. It loses something without a big crowd.
In 1999, I saw the Seth Green-Jessica Alba horror comedy “Idle Hands” on opening day in an otherwise empty theater. I guess it came out before its time, because it has the same vibe as last year’s “Pineapple Express,” which was popular.
In 2004, I saw “Garden State” by myself, and I felt like Zach Braff made the movie just for me. The otherwise vacant theater at the Landmark in Edina, Minn., is part of why I still rank it as my No. 1 movie; it played well in that space. Every time someone rented “Garden State” in 2005 and said they thought it was nothing special, I was slightly offended. I felt like they needed my permission to watch it, especially if they couldn’t understand why it was great.
Anyone else have “only person in the theater” stories to share?
In the meantime, I’ll be asking for one ticket to “I Love You, Beth Cooper” and the ticket-seller will no doubt give me a look like I’m some creepy middle-aged guy in a trench coat who has a Hayden Panettiere shrine in his closet at home. I don’t even own a trench coat — not even a duster, which I think would look kind of cool. And I need to review the movie for my blog, dammit.
