It’s Valentine’s Week and I’m seated in an undergraduate film class at the University of Iowa; the professor asks the students how many of them had their first date at the movies. As the TA, I don’t answer, harboring the truth that my first date with my current partner was, in fact, at the movies. I silently watch as nearly half the class raises their hands.
To be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure that spring visit to the AMC in 2019 was a date. Neither was he. We went to see Jordan Peele’s Us. Having only been chatting for a week, I spent the entire movie wondering if he was going to make any kind of move. Eventually, he lifted the armrest between us. This is it, I thought. But alas, instead of inching closer, he plopped a flimsy bag of buttered popcorn between us. OK, got it, not a date.
Surely, I’m not the only one whose been here before…
“Picked up my date and went to see Cedar Rapids. When we got there, he asked if we were meeting other friends there. Apparently, only one of us thought we were on a date. The movie was nice. The ride home was awkward. Afterward, he sent me an email to clarify his lack of romantic interest.”
“I saw Spectre in theaters with an ex once. It was a sort of baffling emotional space to occupy. The ‘Wait, this is a franchise now?’ thoughts accompanied too uncannily by the ‘Wait, what is this relationship now?’ thoughts.”
Maybe we can blame the bad rap on moments like these? The dark room amplifies the liminality we find ourselves in with potential, or former partners, lying in unconfirmed wait. It wasn’t until there were about 20 minutes left of Us that I was finally given an indication of a possible “us.” He leaned in and softly asked: “If an ax murderer were after you, would you rather they chop this shoulder…or this shoulder?” reaching his arm around me to recreate that classic movie-theater move. Thankfully, I had known the guy since middle school, so I understood my safety, but I would not recommend such a line for a blind date. It may not go over as smoothly, and there’s plenty of potential for failure among the stained, aging seats…
“I went to see Kill Bill Vol. II with my ex many years ago (it was in the theatre), and he left the theatre to pee RIGHT BEFORE SHE FUCKING KILLED BILL. Then he walked back in and sat down and said, ‘What happened?’ I was like, omg, I can’t do this anymore.”
And what about those movie moments that weren’t shared with a date but with a friend or family member? After all, why should Valentine’s Day be strictly for lovers? Watching Theater Camp with my best friends, all of us having met in our high school theater class, stands out as a moment in which loving the film helps, but loving the company is what makes the experience.
Seeing Everything Everywhere All at Once with my younger brother was priceless, and it was hallmarked by hearing that lucky “yes,” after asking the usher if they had any leftover posters they’d be willing to part with. When some romances themselves get stamped with a melancholic “THE END,” the credits on the relationship rolling, it’s the other forms of quotidian love the cinema can ally itself with.
“I do not [have a best movie date]. The best movie experiences have been with friends. The first time I watched Cruel Intentions, I was in my first semester of college, alone and completely isolated from the world because of COVID. In my final semester, the Bijou opener was Cruel Intentions. I became quite emotional, not because of the actual film but because I went with friends I had made over the years who I had grown to love.”
In the nearly six years that have passed since that first movie date with my partner, we’ve gone on countless more. Growing up in a Southern town with not very much to do except visit garbage hills disguised as parks, movie dates are a lifeline. Not just a way to escape boredom but an embrace of intimacy.
“I had a first date at the New Strand Theater in West Liberty. (As a teen having a movie theater in our small town was great for burgeoning romances.) It was 10 Things I Hate About You so in 1999. I was 13 years old. I remember the moment. The totally cliche moment when she asked if she could lay her head on my shoulder while we watched. I played it cool. ‘Of course, of course.’ But 13-year-old me was over the moon while trying to watch Julia Stiles enumerate all the ways she hates Heath Ledger. To this day, I associate the movie with that little moment.”
There is something very special about sitting beside someone new, the butterflies fluttering between the two of you as half of you gazes at the screen and the other half steals peripheral glances of your crush beside you. Splitting a drink or some candy is a sweet transaction, like children sharing a toy. Leaving the theater with a palpable sense of satisfaction, partially influenced by the film and the rest by the person finally making that move. All the emotions forever embodied by the ticket in your pocket: a keepsake you will place in a box that will eventually fill up with all the other reminders of your adventures with that person….
“We saw The Rose with Bette Midler in 1980 at Sycamore Mall — a first date that has turned into a 40-year romance.”
As a movie-lover, it’s wonderful to parallel that joy with the magic of a blossoming or enduring courtship. I hope this Valentine’s Day, you catch a flick with someone special, even if the affair is just as temporary as the screening itself.
Ariana Martinez is a freelance film critic and culture writer. They are currently a teaching assistant and graduate Film Studies student at the University of Iowa. You can find more of their writing on their website, Awake in the A.M.
