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09/24/2007: "Alone With Stardust"
Something happened to me yesterday for the very first time. I knew it would eventually.
I went to the movies, which I hadn't done for some time. Hollywood doesn't create many thoughtful films for adults, so why go? Anyway, I bought into the publicity for the Robert DeNiro/Michelle Pfeiffer film, "Stardust." It was billed as a "fairytale for adults." "Hmm," I thought. "Why not?"
I arrived at the theater at 2:25 pm ... right after I bought an "everything" bagel with cream cheese and a big chocolate cookie from Einstein's across the street and smuggled them into the theater. I wanted something to drink, but I'll die of thirst before I spend $4.50 for a large drink. I don't care if refills are "free." After a trip to the men's room, I settled into my chair at the very back of the theater and the lights dimmed. Then, I noticed.
I WAS ALONE.
This is simultaneously a big deal ... yet not a big deal. Let me explain. When you're someone who loves going to the movies alone (preferably matinees on Mondays or Tuesdays, my days off), you know going in that the theater will be fairly empty. That's actually great because you pretty much get your pick of seats and there aren't any obnoxious, giggly teenagers or chatty Kathies sitting nearby. Yet everytime I've ever gone to a matinee, a handful of popcorn munching, soda slurping, feet dragging people inevitably show up during the previews. Not this time. I was alone in that theater watching "Stardust" from dust to dust. My first time alone with a film in a public theater.
Obviously, the stars and producers of the film would be less than thrilled to hear this and the theater chain surely lost money that day. However, it was the day after Labor Day and the party was over. Back to reality for working folks. Thank God I had the day off. I actually went to the movies to get away from writing for awhile. My head had been spinning with ideas, but nothing was flowing. However, upon noticing that I was alone, the lightbulb above my head turned ON. I had to write this.
When I've told people that I like going to the movies alone, some of them look at me like I've morphed into one of those hideous creatures in those teen horror flicks. But you know what? When you go to the movies alone and then find yourself alone, you've got PLENTY of company! That's the whole point of the movie. If it's a good film, you're alone, but not lonely. Everyone is right up there on the screen.
I'm writing this because there are several key scenes in the film, "Stardust" (I'm no film critic, but I liked it) that actually address this. There's one scene where the characters are talking about "fitting in." One of the characters (don't remember which, sorry) says something like ... "Why spend your time trying to be accepted by people you don't even like?" That cracked me up. Being alone is certainly preferable to being in bad company. Isn't it? There's also a scene where Robert DeNiro's cross-dressing ship captain is caught in the act by a sword-carrying prince. He thought he was all alone, but alas, he wasn't!
I'm also thinking about this funny scene where Michelle Pfeiffer's evil witch character is lamenting her two sisters (I won't give it away). In one breath, she says she's alone and has nothing to live for, but in the next, she laughs and says she no longer has to share anything with them. The disadvantages and advantages of being alone, I suppose.
When you're alone, you suddenly remember that this is how it begins and ends. From dust to dust. You came into the world by yourself and even though you have family and friends, that's how you're leaving the world ... alone. No one is going to take that trip with you. You're the star. From dust to dust, it's all about you ... and the life in between ... on your personal movie screen. You become fully aware of yourself and how you want to be ... whether you're alone ... or with others.
As I sat in that theater alone, I had this sense of ultimate, luxurious escapism. It felt like those people were up there on the screen just for me. This is what art is all about. We were engaged in dialogue ... even though I was "alone."
Still, I've come to realize that when I think I'm alone, I'm really not. I'm sitting here alone, typing these words, but I'm not really alone dear reader. I have YOU. The world has become too crowded for people to truly be alone. Other people think about you when you don't even know it. HIS eye is on the sparrow and I know HE watches me.
Being alone in a physical space is sometimes unavoidable. I dare say it's preferable at times if you're an artist or writer. However, being alone while being lonely and miserable ... that's more of a choice.
Your ability to think, conceive and dream can always keep you company. Isn't that the whole point of imagination ... not to mention, movies and dare I say, art?
Turn on your inner movie projector. Let the thoughts, memories and pictures flow through your head like pictures on a screen. You may be alone but you're in fine company. Suddenly, your monologue has become a dialogue. Just don't create any "imaginary friends." That's an issue for Dr. Phil.
Having seen "Stardust," here's a special message for the guys out there. Imagine yourself sitting on the throne, a newly-crowned king who accomplished his sometimes lonely mission, kept the jewel and got the girl. How can you possibly feel alone with a crown on your head, your subjects applauding and hot Claire Danes sitting next to you?
If that's what being alone means, count me in.
MICHAEL CORBIN IS AN AVID ART COLLECTOR AND AUTHOR OF "ART IN KING SIZE BEDS: A COLLECTOR'S JOURNAL," NOW AVAILABLE ON AUTHORHOUSE.COM.
