There’s something peculiar about how controversial movie dates have become. For an activity critical to modern-day romance, the date-night movie has somehow earned a reputation as a less-than-ideal way to actually get to know someone.
When I told one of my friends I was writing a piece on cinema dates, he gave me a sideways look. “They’re a good third, fourth date,” offered another friend.
Associated with uncertainty and emotional disconnect, the movie date is considered by many to be a romantic faux pas — it’s the date you go on when you run out of ideas. When the theater goes dark and you’re beside someone you like, your attention is supposedly on the film, not on them. On the other hand, if 20 minutes in you realize you don’t particularly like them, well, you still have a movie to finish.
A Reddit thread I came across confronts this problem rather bluntly: “What’s the point of a movie date when you’re just watching a movie the whole time [and not each other]?”
But I’m almost certain there’s much more to it. As one Redditor argued, “body language speaks volumes just as much as words.” There are things we can communicate to each other much more easily in silence.
Even when not conversing, you and your date are still watching each other through your peripheral vision. To reluctantly use myself as a case study, I once spent so much of a movie distracted by the person beside me that I had to watch it again. Viewing the film alone some time later, I realized how much of it I had completely missed the first time around. It turns out I did want to see the movie after all.
Cinema, ironically enough, has long made a valid case for movie dates. In one scene from “La La Land,” Mia and Sebastian go to see “Rebel Without a Cause.” As the film plays, the attention of the two protagonists wanders. Sebastian looks at Mia, and Mia looks back. The film gives out, but the date doesn’t. They head to Griffith Observatory, where a scene in the movie had been set, following it into the real world. Here, the cinema setting enhances romantic possibilities.
In the dark of the theater, romantic compatibility can become surprisingly obvious. You wonder if your date also caught onto the same minor detail you did, then turn when you laugh to see if they did too. How many of these feelings would become visible during a face-to-face restaurant date?
There may even be some science behind the romantic tension of the movie date. Researchers call it neural coupling: during successful storytelling, patterns of brain activity between a speaker and listener can begin to align. Similar responses have also been found among people sharing a movie: Watching a film with someone can get you on the same wavelength, literally.
And with another person by your side, the distance between screen and viewer becomes pliable, breakable. The movie date offers an alternative understanding of the cinema environment. It creates a reciprocal, erotic atmosphere; it complicates spectatorship; it allows us to share.
“Films love to make magic of uncertainty. When we opt to go watch something we’ve never seen before, we open ourselves up to whatever it might make us feel. “
Films love to make magic of uncertainty. When we opt to go watch something we’ve never seen before, we open ourselves up to whatever it might make us feel. Surprisingly, I find that sitting through a bad movie is most helpful in figuring out whether you’re actually compatible with someone.
How do two people on a date cope when a film falls short of anticipation? You can learn a surprising amount about someone from how they respond to a movie. I always want to know which scenes stuck with them, or whether the moment I loved registered at all. Sometimes we agree. Sometimes, I leave defending a scene I hadn’t cared about five minutes earlier. Sharing a feeling and a space, and negotiating yourself in another’s space, it’s all a tactile experience. It can tell you quite a lot about whether you want to see this person again.
Years after my earliest movie dates, I met someone I could never persuade to come to the theater with me. I tried different genres, showtimes, even theaters, until I had exhausted just about every card I could play. They simply hated the cinemas. At the time, I liked them enough that I told myself it hardly mattered, but only later did I realize how much that small initial difference had stuck with me. I think I was disappointed because I wanted to share a little piece of something I loved. Perhaps our willingness to enter someone else’s world through art reveals more about us than we realize.
With the right person, a cinema date can make you feel like you’re in your own film, closing the distance between your own experience and the one being projected on the screen. Perhaps we should surrender to that uncertainty every so often. And if not now, when?
Quincy Qu PO ’29 has probably been to enough movie theaters to start a separate column rating their seats. This week, her film column “Unboxd” turns to the curious appeal of the movie date, exploring the intimacy of watching a film beside someone and what it might reveal about the people we choose to share the experience with.
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