Solo cinema going.
I like going to the cinema on my own sometimes.
To me, one always goes on their own anyway. Although, there was the time I sat next to a massive guy named Trevor who had a lapful of popcorn, chips, drink, ice cream, Maltesers and Jaffas who stuffed his face with both hands for the entire film. He elbowed me in the chest everytime he went in for another pudgy fist of popcorn and snorted like a pot belly pig with each mouthful. I wasn't alone that time.
When I do cinema-go lone-wolf, I resist all urges to look at the board to see what's on - it's not easy. I just shuffle along with the queue like the workers in Metropolis looking at my feet until I get to the counter. Then I ask for ticket to the next film to start, regardless of the film.
I've been lucky thus far – I haven't seen any real turkeys. Devil worried me – M. Night Shyamalan has not impressed me since ... well ... I can't even remember the last time, but I wasn't too unhappy when I left despite the pretty mediocre line delivery. I ran into the opening of Fighter knowing nothing about it and was horrified to see the hand held camera work. And damn, I hate hand held stuff. I've since bought that one and return to it often.
I utilised this esotheric method of film selection last week and jagged Django Unchained. I was a little apprehensive. Although a Tarantino fan on the whole, it seems I am the only man in the world who found Inglourious Basterds (have I spelt that correctly?) a little underwhelming.
My review of extreme brevity for Django? Long and long-winded, absurdly violent (considerably more realistic than QT's previous numbers), frequently silly and utterly excellent! I had a bloody good time.
So if you have trouble choosing between films, I thoroughly recommend you take away the choice. Roll the dice! Walk up to the counter, level your gaze on the poor bugger sitting there and tell them with authority to tell you which film you are going to see.