12 april 2005

I am having a lonely evening, not the kind where I feel lonely but the kind where I want to feel lonely, so I went to see a movie by myself. It is a movie about Louis Kahn that I wanted to see in the states, but missed, and there it was in the weekly listings for the Filmmuseum in Vondelpark: Monday to Wednesday 7pm. I would have gone alone even if I hadn’t been in the mood, because although I have friends here none of them are quite the kind of friends who would willingly see a documentary film about an American architect just because. But there I was craving loneliness so it all worked out.

I got on my bike, newly painted mint green from a weekend project and newly squeaky from an unfortunate accident with a pedestrian on a mobile phone. I squeaked around the Prinsengracht and right through Leidseplein, on into Vondelpark. The steps of the Filmmuseum were covered with people sipping coffee, but inside it was empty.

I bought my ticket, walked through the deserted exhibit halls and into the theater. I was expecting the type of video space typical of museums – bland and open and overlit, with stacking chairs – but instead it was dim and warm and plush red, an intimate old moviehouse. Up until one minute before seven I was the only one in the theater. It felt beautiful and romantic and European. If my life were a movie this is the point when the single guy with the irrepressible interest in documentary film and /or architecture would have walked in, and we would have smiled as the film started, and ended up chatting at some café about art and beer and secret plans. But quietly I was hoping to watch the movie alone, just for dramatic effect.

Instead a few pairs of older Dutch couples turned up, which was ok too.

I biked home in the last little bit of light, over the canals among all the other bikers finally giving up on the day. It wasn’t warm in my sweater, but it wasn’t cold either.