Member-only story
Short Tales of a Solo Cinema Goer
No Time to Die — 2021
My solo cinema habit has always been a double-edged thing.
On the one hand, it’s amazing. You get this weird kind of thrill that’s completely unmerited. It’s that same excitement that you get from reading a book in a public place, tucking a newspaper under your armpit, or not using your phone for a day. There’s something so 1920s quaint about it.
On the other hand, there’s the social precariousness of it all. A younger version of yourself can’t understand what’s happening. Why are you going to the movie theatre by yourself? You can’t do this. It’s social suicide. Even as an adult, you can’t help but feel slightly weird.
This self-consciousness came to the fore when Daniel Craig’s final Bond movie came out. Upon hearing about it, I immediately knew two things — I needed to see it in the theatre, and my wife would be less enthused.
After briefly trying to convince her, I headed out on my own. The movie had only just been released, so the place was busier than usual. And, for whatever reason, it felt like it was a couples’ night only. It was wall-to-wall lovebirds and me, the dateless freak.
What made it worse was what happened at the ticket booth.
