“One, Please.”

I go to the movies a lot. A lot. Way more than you. Unless, of course, you’re a film critic, and then you go to the movies too much. Worse, you have to see movies like “Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2.” Face!

In going to the movies all the time, I’ve noticed that many, many people who also go to the movies often bring along one or more people. I mean, what’s more fun than ignoring your closest friends and/or loved ones for two hours while a movie’s happening? Well, that’s not true. They don’t always ignore each other. Some folks are apparently oblivious to the fact that it’s kind of understood there’s no talking during a movie and chat it up with their idiot friends for the entire running time. I’ve always wished a few ceiling tiles in the auditorium would come loose and fall on those people, but that has yet to occur. I remain hopeful.

At any rate, what I’m trying to get at is the sort of unwritten rule of moving-going: One never goes to the movies alone. Yes, you pay for your own ticket, you buy your own popcorn, candy and/or beverage, you find your own seat in the theater; but, you absolutely must do all of these things with other people. Going to the movies alone is Travis Bickle-type stuff. What are you, some kind of friendless weirdo? You have to go to the movies with at least one other person. To that, I say, “Pfft.”

If every time I went to the movies I had to go with someone else, I’d probably never see a movie again. Getting people in L.A. to do anything is like herding cats. I see hundreds of Los Angelinos at the movies every time I go and wonder how in the hell they wound up there. You have to master the art of compromise to pull off a trip to the movie house with your friends. Even then, you’re selling yourself short. First, they — these so-called friends of yours — never want to see whatever it is you want to see. Second, what they want to see is bilge. Third, your compromise film is either something you’ve already seen or something you’d rather wait to see on DVD if at all.

Last night, a friend of mine was in town. I met up with her and her annoying friends for dinner. The subject of going to the movies came up at one point. These gals clearly don’t read my blog. Here’s what they suggested we go see: “The X-Files: I Want to Believe,” “Mamma Mia” or “Wall-E.” Ugh. I bailed shortly thereafter, leaving them to their margaritas and bad taste in movie-films. Oddly, my friend has yet to see “The Dark Knight” — a flick I would’ve seen a fourth time with them had it been suggested — as she is the one and only human being who does not like Batman. How we are friends is fast becoming a mystery to me.

I realize that I take movie-going much more seriously than the average person. It’s not just something I do as a casual viewer, but as a ritual. Even in this town, it’s hard to find people who are as excited as I am about the experience of going to the movies. But if my taste stunk as bad as theirs does, I guess I could understand why I’d need the support of my closest friends to actually make it to the theater.

-Brad Lohan

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