The best reason to go to the movies is to be with other people.

Hear now, O listener, the words of Peter Weller, both actor and teacher of the screen: “The best reason to go to the movies is to be with other people. Eating the popcorn, being with other people you don't know.” Though simple in sound, these words carry the fragrance of truth, for they remind us that cinema is not only a story upon the screen but also a ritual of community, a gathering of souls in the darkness, united by light.

From the ancient days, men and women have gathered together to share stories. Around the fire they spoke of gods and heroes; in amphitheaters they wept and rejoiced at tragedies and comedies; in cathedrals they gazed upon stained glass that told the tales of heaven. Each of these acts was not meant for the solitary, but for the many, so that hearts might beat as one, and so that the individual might find his place within the greater circle of mankind. The movie theater, with its glowing screen, is the heir to these sacred traditions.

Consider, O seeker, the story of the premiere of Gone With the Wind in 1939. Thousands gathered in Atlanta to witness the spectacle, not merely to see a film but to share in an event that bound them together. Strangers stood shoulder to shoulder, their laughter and tears echoing in unison. The magic was not only in the costumes, the music, the grandeur of the story, but in the collective experience—the sense that every gasp, every sigh, every cheer was multiplied a thousandfold because it was shared. This is the power that Weller speaks of: the joy of being in the presence of strangers, bound by a common thread of wonder.

For what is popcorn, but the symbol of this ritual? It is not needed for survival, nor is it essential to the telling of the tale. Yet its scent fills the air, its crunch becomes part of the chorus of the audience. It reminds us that we are embodied beings, sharing not only thought and feeling but taste and sound, all woven together into a single tapestry of experience. The popcorn is a sacrament of cinema, a humble offering that marks the communal nature of the event.

Weller’s wisdom shines in a world where solitude grows ever stronger, where men and women watch stories on glowing devices, alone in their rooms. While the image remains, the community is lost. The laughter of strangers is absent, the silent weight of shared sorrow vanishes, and the ritual becomes thin and pale. The movie theater calls us back to each other, reminding us that even among those we do not know, we can feel the pulse of shared humanity.

The lesson is clear: seek not always the comfort of solitude, but embrace the strength of togetherness. Go out into the world, sit among strangers, and let their laughter mingle with yours. Let their tears remind you that you are not alone in grief, nor alone in joy. In this way, you learn that humanity is a great symphony, and though each voice is but one instrument, it is in the collective harmony that beauty resounds.

Therefore, O traveler of the modern age, let not your life be lived only in isolation. Go forth to the places where people gather—whether in theaters, in music halls, in temples, or in marketplaces—and let yourself be shaped by the presence of others. For though the story may dazzle your mind, it is the people beside you, unknown yet kindred, who will make the moment eternal.

So remember: the movies are not only about the story told on the screen, but about the story written in the audience itself. Sit with others, eat the popcorn, and know that in the company of strangers, you discover the truth that you belong to a greater whole. This is the wisdom of Peter Weller, and it is a flame worth carrying into your days.