on the pitfalls of expressing personal taste

Last night, continuing my streak of movie-going as a software widow while fred baby is in D.C. for the week, I went to Zatoichi at the Lagoon. I saw it in April at the film festival, but wanted to catch it again on the big screen. I remembered a good deal of very satisfying samurai sword action, along with a full-fledged plot with many strands. And a hell of a finale.

Unlike the Strangelove outing, I didn’t go to Z. alone. A coworker came along, and on our way to the movie I made what, in retrospect, I realize to be a big tactical error. I admitted that I’d seen it already.

I should have known better. Because whenever I recommend a movie—based, of course, on the fact that I have seen and liked it—I inevitably feel this overwhelming sense of personal responsibility for the enjoyment of the person to whom I’ve made the recommendation. I’m certain that their opinion of the film—or book, or concert, or whatever—will directly correspond to their opinion of me. Not only that, but if they don’t like it, I myself will have been to blame for the waste of their time and money.

It’s a lot of pressure.

I’ve often enough had it go wrong. For example, I’ve had people inform me that they TURNED OFF a movie I had raved about. I’ve also been told that, while reading a book I told them had me laughing aloud on the bus, they kept wondering when they were going to get to the funny bit.

Even worse are those times when I’m actually present for the viewing or listening. (With reading, it doesn’t come up so much…) The sense of duty only grows, and the potential for immediate, in-person disgrace is just that much greater. I sometimes find myself distracted from the entertainment itself because I’m busy monitoring my companion’s reaction, looking for clues to their amusement level, guardedly watching for fidgeting and other telltale signs of boredom or dissatisfaction.

And on top of all that, the judging and reproach can go both ways, presenting yet another hazard. After all, if I recommend something that I truly love and the person isn’t impressed—well then, I might just have to rethink my own opinion of him or her.

Oh well. Tonight it’s back to the fair with Amy. And I certainly don’t have to be worried about whether or not she’ll have fun. How restful…