Why does society find it strange if you go to the cinema on your own?
I realise February 2021 is not the best time to be asking this question. Here in the UK, at least, all the cinemas are closed, and that’s true in much of the rest of the world too. And, depending on exactly how soon they reopen, I don’t imagine I’ll be rushing back: sitting in an enclosed space with a bunch of strangers for a couple of hours doesn’t sound relaxing, even if all the appropriate measures are in place to make it COVID-secure.
Which is a shame, because I love the cinema. It’s pretty much the only time in modern life that I completely disconnect from the outside world: my laptop is shut (if I have it with me at all) and my phone is off.¹ There’s not even a clock to watch. So there’s nothing to do but focus completely on the film. It’s the closest I get to mindfulness.
And I think it’s that social pressure not to do these things that makes it work, at least for me. I’ve tried shutting my laptop, and putting my phone in a different room, while watching films at home, but it’s not the same: the temptation is always there, and hard to resist. Plus, even if you bought a projector set-up and surround sound system,² it’s hard to get your living room as dark as a cinema screen, and I think that’s part of it too.
The main thing that stopped me going to the cinema before All This That’s Going On Right Now was the cost of it. Central Oxford cinemas could be close to £10 a ticket—and, while there is the Vue out in Greater Leys that has (or at least had) a £5-any-film-any-time policy,³ it’s hard to get to by public transport, and not a walk you’d want to do in the dark. Quite a few times I used the PickMeUp demand-responsive buses to get there, but they’ve gone now. If you can get there, and assuming it continues once life is back to normal, I’d recommend it.
So here’s the thing I’ve never understood: why have we decided that the cinema is necessarily a social activity? “Necessarily” being the key part: I understand completely that there are benefits to going to the cinema in a group, such as that you can discuss the film on the way out, or buy a slightly-better-value popcorn to share. And, while I’ve never done it, I can see why cinemas are a common choice for dates: in fact, cinemas sometimes used to have two-person flip-down seats for lovebirds to get cosy in.
But I’ve quite often been to the cinema on my own, because I was the only person I knew who wanted to see a particular film, or because I decided to go on a whim when there wasn’t time before the screening to organise a social trip, or because everyone I knew who wanted to see it already had but I wanted to see it again. (I’m looking at you, Mary Poppins Returns.) And when I tell people this, the response is sometimes confusion—“Wait, you went by yourself?”—and sometimes pity—“You know, if you ever want someone to go with you…”
So let’s get this straight: this is an activity where you sit in the dark for around two hours, not talking to anyone else.⁴ And yet we’ve decided it’s odd to do this on your own? Okay.
I understand it more with plays, I think because there is more socialising that goes on at the theatre: whereas in the cinema it’s typical to walk in when the trailers have already started, at the theatre you’d normally be seated for a while with nothing going on on stage, plus there’s the interval. I’d still go and see a play on my own—and I did when I came up to the Fringe in 2018—but I understand why people would feel a certain stigma about going alone.
And that’s a stigma I feel myself about dining alone in a restaurant, to the extent that I won’t do it. Of course, eating out is a social activity, and I’m never sure of the etiquette around getting a book out in a table-service restaurant, but also: I’m aware people can see that I’m dining alone, and I can’t help but wonder what they think. Perhaps I shouldn’t care about that either. But it’s enough that, on the solo day trips I’ve blogged about on here, I’ve typically chosen a counter service fast food place if I’ve wanted a hot meal.
But as we’ve established—the cinema is dark. Turn up when the trailers have started and nobody will see that you’re alone, much less care. Although once I realised that they didn’t care if they saw me alone once the lights came up at the end, I didn’t bother about turning up early either.
Like I said, this is perhaps the wrong time to be talking about the cinema. Indeed, what prompted me to write it was watching a film on Netflix that I saw at the Vue in 2019—Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, which is one of the best animations ever made—and feeling nostalgic about that trip. But that was a trip I made on my own, because convincing other people to join me at that cinema was never straightforward. So if the situation arises, I’ll happily go to the cinema alone again. And I suggest that you join me—even if the whole point is that you don’t.
¹ To those people who think it’s okay if it’s on silent—the buzzing is still audible, and if you use it the light pollution it causes in a darkened room is also distracting. Then again, I once went to a film where, during a quiet, emotional scene, someone answered their phone and said, “I can’t talk now, I’m in the cinema,” so maybe I should pick my battles.
² I do not have these things.
³ To be clear, that’s £5 for any film that they’re showing at any time that they’re showing it. More than once I’ve used that phrase and the listener thought you could go in and say, “I want A Matter of Life and Death at 3:54, please.”
⁴ At least, that’s the idea: see footnote 1.
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