On Inappropriate Film Choices

Late 2014

I get a call from my friend S, who wants to know if I'm free to join her for a trip to the cinema and our favourite frozen yoghurt haunt tonight. I jump at the chance as I spend too much time indoors right now, and she's fun, distracting company.

The film is gut-achingly funny – beautifully-scripted, well-acted and perfectly timed. Part way through, it's revealed that one of the main characters is dying of cancer. I cast a sidelong look at S, who is trying to shrink back into her seat, mortified. I'm fascinated by how a fully-grown adult woman can attempt to squeeze herself into such a tiny space, in an attempt to disappear in shame. Something about this strikes me as so funny that for the next ten minutes I'm laughing at her instead of the film. Part way through this, she catches my eye...and bursts out laughing. I think nearby audience members think we're doing drugs.

Later she posts to Facebook that only she could take a friend in cancer treatment to a film about someone dying of cancer. Poor S. It was a great night out though!

Some time later, S and I are discussing that evening, and she confesses that she has a history of similarly inappropriate choices. She once took a friend out on day-release from a mental health unit, only to discover that the film she'd chosen concerned nuns running a horrific mental asylum, scenes of systemic abuse and brutal treatment. Thankfully, her other friend found the whole situation (and, I presume, S's attempts to become one with the cinema seat) as amusing as I found ours.