Popcorn, sing-a-longs and selfies: What watching the Queen’s funeral at the cinema was like-Emmie Harrison-West-Entertainment – Metro

Clad in a black dress, adorned with a leopard print sweater vest, coupled with a tote bag full of tin foil-wrapped sandwiches and snacks, this was certainly the strangest funeral I’d ever been to.

While the rest of the UK was either having a lie-in, thankful for an extra bank holiday, or lining the streets of West London, I was on my way to the cinema to watch the state funeral of Queen Elizabeth II.

At least you wouldn’t be able to see my white trainers or chipped nail varnish in the dark, I thought.

‘Have a nice time,’ my husband automatically said before I left the house, quickly kissing me before his face turned red. ‘Err, y’know, maybe don’t…?’ he tittered nervously. 

I didn’t know how to feel – or what to expect (Picture: REUTERS)

I was going to watch the funeral of a stranger, a woman I’d never met – a woman who I was, quite frankly, indifferent to – live on the big screen. The famous ‘statey funes’. Truthfully, like my husband, I didn’t know how to feel – or what to expect.

It wasn’t easy to get a ticket, by any means. Out of two, London-based cinema chains, one was fully sold out of free tickets in every single branch in the capital – and this was a week in advance. 

I managed to find a ticket an hour from home, in Hoxton, which soon fully sold out of three separate screenings of the funeral – the only showings on at the cinema.

‘Services are expected to be busy,’ Tube boards repeated on my journey there. But, for the first time ever, in my five years in London, there wasn’t a single soul on my train platform.

Streets were eerily quiet, with few cars and even fewer people. Even Pret was shut. It was the most surreal experience of my life.

Emmie at the cinema today

The Tube platform was completely empty on my journey there

Contrary to popular belief, at the cinema, popcorn was flowing. I suddenly felt foolish for choosing and packing food that made the least possible noise. 

Coffee cups and even beer bottles sat alongside packets of tissues and bags of sweets in the screening, with a chorus of tissues frantically unwrapped as the Queen’s coffin was brought into Westminster Abbey.

There were no retching sobs, as I oddly craved, but plenty of not-so-subtle throat clearing and sniffly noses. People of all sexes and ages wiped away tears, at peace in the dark. 

Aside from the murmur amongst the audience when Prince Andrew appeared onscreen, the only sound was the sound of shoes on tiles from the funeral procession.

Royal Family members in the pews at the funeral (Picture: Joe Giddens/Pool Photo via AP)

Normal cinema – or indeed, funeral – etiquette clearly didn’t apply from the get-go, as many a face was illuminated by the stark blue light of phones.

Scrolling through Facebook, brazenly taking selfies with the Queen’s coffin onscreen, sending them on WhatsApp or posting them on their Instagram Stories.

Young children and teens in front (on a big family day out judging by their entourage) squabbled and bickered – hitting each other and running up and down aisles to swap seats with their siblings. They splayed their feet on the chairs in front as their mother cried and followed the order of service on her phone.

The same children, who were afforded shaken heads from tutting audience members, zoomed in on Prince Harry’s face, giggling as they shared pictures with friends on Snapchat. 

Soon, the funeral had been on so long that the screen’s auto standby option popped up on screen

I couldn’t help but scoff in amazement. Though I didn’t consider myself a royalist in the slightest, if I‘m honest, the lack of respect made me feel uncomfortable. But how exactly were we supposed to react to the funeral of a woman none of us knew that well?

The Queen’s state funeral didn’t even stop the man next to me from manspreading – and I started to feel foolish as the only viewer in black, wondering what I’d got myself into.

Suddenly, the children’s mother started singing along to the funeral’s hymns. Out loud. The children did too, while stifling yawns – and one suddenly stood up with a nosebleed.

To say I was speechless was an understatement, especially when the screen’s unpaid choir singer looked behind her at everyone seated nearby with distaste as no one joined in.

The screening went on from 11-5 but, after 45 mins, people started leaving. 

It took 58 minutes for me to start feeling emotional, when the two minutes’ silence ensued. It was a peaceful moment of thought and remembrance for all and a lump grew in my throat.

The coffin of Queen Elizabeth II is carried in the state hearse as it proceeds towards St. George’s Chapel (Picture: Ryan Pierse/Getty Images)

Soon, the funeral had been on so long that the screen’s auto standby option popped up on screen. A relatable moment amongst the gold, gilded traditional costumes and feathers making people laugh with familiarity – a far cry from long nights of boxset binging.

If anything, as it was the first state funeral I’d ever watched, I learned more about British history, our military and royal symbolism than ever before.

Grateful for a HD screen to take in the intricate, immaculate pageantry of my country of birth, I was mesmerised by the impeccably solemn swaying of the Queen’s guards and rhythmic sounds of drums and horses’ hooves – interrupted only by my bladder twinging.

Upon finding out every women’s toilet in the cinema was blocked, I wondered to myself: just how long can military and royalty hold their bladders for?

Emma, the monarch’s fell pony, stands as the Ceremonial Procession of the coffin of Queen Elizabeth II arrives at Windsor Castle (Picture: PA)

The Queen’s corgis, Muick and Sandy (Picture: BBC/UNPIXS)

I must admit, I did shed a tear when I learned of the Queen’s favourite horse Emma awaiting her passing en route to Windsor Castle. Then burst into tears when I saw her two beloved corgis, Muick and Sandy waiting unknowingly as their owner’s coffin turned into her childhood home.

Somehow, it made Britain’s longest-reigning monarch feel a little more human.

Nearly six hours later, as the funeral drew to a close, I seamlessly integrated back into the unfaltering, chaotic nature of London life.

Just for a moment, I experienced peace – something I definitely didn’t expect. I was left with a solemn sense of thoughtfulness for those I’d loved and lost. 

I wouldn’t have swapped their simple ceremonies in comparison, saturated with respect, laughter and tales of their childhood ringing in my ears, for all the riches and golden embroidery in the world. 

It was one of the most surreal experiences of my life, but I’m glad I did it. I’ll definitely have an original answer when people ask where I was for the Queen’s funeral. 

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk. 

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