I went to the movies the other afternoon. I needed a break from some pretty intense situations and a relentlessly busy schedule. The movie I chose was
Avatar, the science fiction blockbuster that has set all records for movie revenues. The movie had been recommended by family, friends, Facbook acquaintances, some of the guys at church. I didn't require much prompting because I love a well-scripted and cinematically creative science fiction story. In a future blog I will share with you my reflections on the story told in
Avatar. There are some significant questions raised in the movie and some important perspectives to consider.
What I wanted to comment on today was something of a very different nature. The movie has been out for at least five weeks. I don't go to that many movies any more (the price is just too absurd in most cases). I wait for the DVD. But the grand nature of this movie begged to be seen on the big screen. I went on a Monday afternoon and the theater itself was empty. Seriously. I can't remember the last time I went to a movie and was the only person who was viewing it.
This wasn't a small side theater, it was one of the main ones. Surrounded by "surround sounds", treated to a constant barrage of fast-moving images on the screen, seeing absolutely beautiful scenery whizzing by in all of its color and glory--the two hours and 50 minutes went by fast.
Just before the end of the movie, a patron (I suspect from another theater screen) came in, walked to the back, munched on their popcorn and watched the climactic battle scene before leaving without a word. I confess it spooked me a bit because that additional person was a "presence" that disturbed my focus. And since I have seen just enough scary movies, made me wonder if I would get murdered if I returned to giving my full attention to the screen.
Many of us are perfectly comfortable focusing on ourselves and our own desires. The presence of others in the room is often a disturbing reminder that we are not as isolated as we would prefer to be. Others require us to account for their needs, their attitudes, their actions. In a world of Ipods and cocooning and anonymous chat rooms; we have often forgotten the reality of interpendence. We can no longer simply do as we please. We have to account for others.
An afternoon of isolation may be restorative and something to be savored; but living in isolation or as if we were the only people in the room, is often a formula for isolation, lonlieness and abandonment. Genesis tells us "It is not good for man to live alone." Alone may be safe for a moment, but it is patently unsatisfying as a lifestyle.
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