Gail Singer's Watching movies By Jeet Heer National Post (December 11, 2003). Movie going is rarely a solitary act, nor should it be. Most of us start seeing movies from an early age and when we think back on them we remember not just what we saw on the screen but also the surrounding ambience: what theatre we were at and with whom. Sociability is part of movie going, and contributes to the hold film has over us. Re-reading the reviews of Pauline Kael recently, I was struck by how often she dwelled on the social aspect of film going, especially the friendships that are kindled in the heat of discussions about movies. Many of Kael's reviews record not only her reactions but also interesting observations made by friends that saw the movie with her. "Being able to talk about movies with someone - to share the giddy high excitement you feel - is enough for a friendship," Kael wrote in a short note looking back on her decades as movie reviewer. Movie going not only helps cement friendship. The more intimate bonds of romantic love are also forged under the shared flicker of the screen. For nearly a century now film-going has been intertwined with courtship and coupledom. For spooning teenagers and hand-squeezing seniors alike, movie going is one of the rituals of love. Every so often a filmmaker will decide to turn the camera lens on the audience and examine the impact movies have on those who watch them. Giuseppe Tornatore's Cinema Paradiso (1989) is perhaps the best-loved of the movies about movie going, but Woody Allen has also essayed the topic several times, from Play it Again, Sam (1972) to The Purple Rose of Cairo (1985). Now Gail Singer tackles the same rich subject in her delightful documentary Watching Movies, which will air on CTV on December 20th. (In recording my enthusiasm for her film, I should also acknowledge that the director is someone I've had many pleasant conversations with about movies, and therefore a friend. She's kind enough to list me as a consultant for the documentary, although aside from listening to her lively talks on the subject I didn't contribute anything to the film) "What do we know about this mysterious urge to secrete ourselves away in the half-light?" Singer asks. "What is the magic that keeps us spellbound at the movies?" To answer these questions, Singer has assembled an array of chatterboxes who share her own passion for movie talk, ranging from the renowned (director Atom Egoyan) to ordinary film goers with strong and articulate opinions (notably high school student William DiNovi, who has very detailed theories about how to select a proper seat). Especially engaging is the political scientist Nelson Wiseman, who can barely contain his jumped up delight at Jackie Chan movies. Singer's motley cast offer zestful thoughts on all the common experience that make up movie going but rarely get analyzed: Is it better to show up early to do some people-watching or coming in late just to catch a flick? Do you want to sit up front to be immersed in the filmic universe or sit in the back so you can enjoy analytical distance? Does popcorn provide us with a soothing comfort or is it any annoyance to those around us? (One fact is clear: you shouldn't munch on popcorn anywhere near Atom Egoyan, or his face will scrunch up in pain). This is an artful documentary where Singer slyly juxtaposes conflicting voices and visual cues. Thus we hear earnest experts talk about the correct posture for sitting and the nutritional content of snack food. These overly sober ideas are wryly parodied in accompanying cartoons. These cartoons also save the film from the visual boredom that usually afflicts talking heads documentaries. The same skill at mix-and-matching film editing can be seen in the contrast between two movie going couples. Retired academics Margaret and Colin Visser are almost regal in their shared opinions: Margaret, with her brisk Zimbabwe English accent, holds forth confidently while Colin nods in agreement, only once piping in a few words. The journalists Johanna Schneller and Ian Brown are completely different: like the bickering couples in a screwball comedy, their relationship is built on conniption fits and barbed disagreement. By including clips from both couples at well-timed intervals, Singer illustrates the different ways that movie going duos interact. Despite these different personal styles, everyone in Singer's movie acknowledges the social aspect of film going. "I think there is a collective emotional energy that floats above the people who are watching movies," Schneller notes. "There is no question that watching a film with an audience that is intent, drawn into it, and has a certain level of understanding enormously enhances the film," Margaret Visser agrees. "It's nothing like seeing it on your own." Although it moves along at a breezy pace, Watching Movies is extremely thought-provoking. After seeing it, it is hard to take the movie going experience for granted: a casual part of our everyday life is now imbued with meaning. The one regrettable fact about the documentary is that most people will have to see it on TV, although a film version exists. Aside from rare exceptions like Bowling for Columbine, documentaries do not get seen on the big screen anymore. This is an unfortunate fate for Singer's film, since watching this documentary feeds our desire to enjoy the darkling glamour of movie theatre rather than the more mundane comforts of our living room.