There are two activities people call “movie night.” One involves watching a movie. The other involves scrolling through little rectangles until a perfectly usable evening has left the building.
If you’ve ever spent longer selecting a film than watching it, pull up a cushion. This is your extremely unofficial nine-stage documentary.
You announce that tonight, you’re watching something NEW.
A proper film. Something with awards. Something that will give you an opinion at brunch beyond “the opening credits were quite long.” You have a blanket, an ambitious snack situation, and absolutely no reason to doubt yourself.
You even put your phone face down. Cinema has your full attention. For approximately eleven seconds.
You reject every option for reasons you could not defend in court.
Too sad. Too loud. Too much ocean. Why is everyone whispering? That poster looks like homework. This one has a dog, and you are not emotionally equipped to find out what happens to it.
Someone suggests the film you literally asked them to suggest. Unfortunately, you are no longer in that mood. The mood has evolved. The mood now requires a committee.
You ask the group chat. This is your first tactical error.
One friend sends a voice note longer than the trailer. Another recommends a seven-season show despite the word MOVIE being right there in your message. A third says “trust me” and refuses to explain further.
The friend with the best taste replies the following afternoon. By then you will have completed an entire emotional journey and eaten all the good snacks.
The trailer tells you the plot, the twist, and possibly the ending.
You meet the couple. You see the argument. The suspicious neighbour gets a suspicious close-up. Someone says a sentence that sounds expensive. Then the trailer politely arranges the entire third act for your convenience.
Well. That was a lovely two-minute film. No notes. Back to browsing.
The ONE thing you want is on the ONE service you don’t have.
Naturally. You own a small constellation of streaming apps, yet the particular film your brain has selected lives on a mysterious additional planet.
You briefly consider subscribing. Then you remember the service you joined for one show and have been financially supporting ever since. Character development is closing the payment tab.
The snacks are finished. The opening credits have not begun.
The popcorn has vanished during the research phase. There are two lonely chips in the bowl and a suspicious amount of evidence on your T-shirt. You have accidentally had dinner with a menu screen.
Now you need fresh snacks, which means standing up, which means the blanket arrangement is compromised. This production is running wildly over budget.
You check the time and experience a small administrative crisis.
Somehow, deciding what to watch has become the evening’s main activity. You start negotiating with the runtime: if you skip brushing your teeth, fold the laundry tomorrow, and experience sleep at double speed, maybe this still works.
A three-hour epic is now out of the question. So is anything with twelve named kingdoms. Tonight your brain has capacity for one workplace and several deeply familiar problems.
You start making a suspiciously detailed case for your comfort show.
“I mean, we already know it’s good.” “We can just watch one.” “It’s background TV.” A remarkable list of arguments from someone who will immediately shush the room because their favourite bit is coming up.
You are no longer choosing entertainment. You are delivering closing remarks to a jury that is also you. The jury is easily persuaded.
You press play on The Office. Again. Peace returns to the land.
There it is. The familiar faces. The familiar awkwardness. The glorious relief of not having to learn anybody’s name. You settle into the sofa with the satisfaction of someone who has made a brave artistic decision.
Will you watch that critically acclaimed film another night? Of course. It’s on your list. Right underneath the other forty-seven critically acclaimed films that are also on your list.
For now, Scranton has the floor.
BE HONEST WITH YOURSELF
How many stages
were a little too real?
Tap “I’ve done this” on the stages that called you out.
Tonight, give yourself ten minutes to choose. If that fails, at least put the popcorn on after you press play.
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All 9 reaction GIFs and 3 cover stills are remotely hosted media from The Office’s official GIPHY channel. Individual source links appear beneath each GIF. Character reactions illustrate our jokes; the captions and article are original INSTAFLIX copy, not dialogue or claims about the scenes.
This is an original humour piece. It does not report current IMDb rankings or audience research. The Office and its characters belong to their respective rights holders.