I sing again the pleasures of the solo matinée, of the sumptuous experience of watching a movie alone — in a dark room filled with strangers — nibbling popcorn and sipping on a beverage between flurries of photons from the silvered screen dancing on the jewels of a theater full of faces, eyeballs and glasses lenses echoing blurred shades from the projected action back to the screen.
Were I to stumble upon a ring of invisibility, I would shoplift with impunity, shadow celebrities and lowly strangers to watch the mundane humanness of their days and nights, and sneak into every movie at the multiplex. I would not fight crime. I’d be a rare presence in Wall Street board lurking for hot stock tips. I would mostly watch Hollywood stars, directly — and the movies they star in. Buying an eight-dollar ticket for a two‑o’clock showing is a bargain. In the dark of a solo matinée, you’re practically invisible.
As the pandemic slows, but is perhaps reconsidering its deceleration — considering stepping on the throttle again — two quiet hours at an afternoon matinée carries a popcorn bucket’s worth of silent question mark with it: will we have to raise our masks again soon? Will the theaters again shutter the snack bar? Or will we collectively acquiesce to inherent risks of living with the unvaccinated Bizarro-libertines? Too much to think about right now, the previews are rolling…
Care to Share?
Consider posting a note of comment on this item: