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I have a very vivid memory of someone saying that she felt sorry for people who go to the cinema on their own. There is something nice about the apres vu, with the right crowd, which makes even seeing some schlock like Atonement not seem like a waste of a couple of hours.
On the other hand, you don't feel it's your responsibility for the film to be good, you can sit where you like, including the front row, and you don't have to explain that, on the whole, you want to read the credits.
And you get to see the bloody film.
I) N wanted to see The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, and we figured there were about three showings across last weekend he could make. But his sister was going into labour and he wanted to be on hand ... to give out hot towels or whatever one does. Strike one.
II) K was also interested in seeing The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, but the 8.50 Sunday screening was too late and then it turns out he was working on the Thursday which was the fall back position. Strike two.
III) B mentioned wanting to see The Kite Runner on Saturday night and I thought it might be fun to see it with someone else although Plan A was to go Sunday pm, as I needed to be that end of town at 6pm. Whilst I hadn't started the journey back before I found out he couldn't make it, I did time the return from London to make it in good time for the screening. Strike three.
The moral is people can go to the cinema with me, but I won't go to the cinema with them.
And because I needed to prevaricate more over some marking, I didn't see it on Sunday pm. I will now risk a double bill with Eastern Promises Monday night and try not to fall asleep.
On the other hand, you don't feel it's your responsibility for the film to be good, you can sit where you like, including the front row, and you don't have to explain that, on the whole, you want to read the credits.
And you get to see the bloody film.
I) N wanted to see The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, and we figured there were about three showings across last weekend he could make. But his sister was going into labour and he wanted to be on hand ... to give out hot towels or whatever one does. Strike one.
II) K was also interested in seeing The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, but the 8.50 Sunday screening was too late and then it turns out he was working on the Thursday which was the fall back position. Strike two.
III) B mentioned wanting to see The Kite Runner on Saturday night and I thought it might be fun to see it with someone else although Plan A was to go Sunday pm, as I needed to be that end of town at 6pm. Whilst I hadn't started the journey back before I found out he couldn't make it, I did time the return from London to make it in good time for the screening. Strike three.
The moral is people can go to the cinema with me, but I won't go to the cinema with them.
And because I needed to prevaricate more over some marking, I didn't see it on Sunday pm. I will now risk a double bill with Eastern Promises Monday night and try not to fall asleep.
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Going to cinema with other people is always complicated. They either want to go somewhere that is easy for them to get to, but an hour's journey for me, or I don't enjoy the film, they don't enjoy the film, or I get so engrossed I end up forgetting that I've got someone with me and end wander off without them.
I feel that ideally going to the cinema is a solitary support. I also feel that eveyone else should come alone so there will be NO TALKING.
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A couple of times I went with some friends to see a film in Ashford - but it always seemed to involve a) getting lost,* b) going to KFC, c) missing the start of the film and d) missing the closing credits.
Hey, I know it's not my fault if the film is crap on a rational basis. (Two fears: recommending films and cooking for others. I can lend books without fear, mind.)
There is a special corner of hell reserved for people who talk in theatres; cinemas need an annex. Jesse James was enlivened by bloke explaining stuff to girlfriend. Not quite on the level of our having to provide a commentary for an idiotic son on Return of the King when it was on in the Doves: "That's Sam, he's got the ring. No, that's the spider. No, Sam's got the ring. That's Frodo. No he's not got the ring, Sam has. She's Shelob. No, she hasn't got the ring." Etc.
* Save for the time I navigated, sans map. Once we nearly ended up in Dover.