I first watched Ghost World back in 2009 after borrowing it from my local library. I knew absolutely nothing about it. The cover caught my eye, I took it home, and I fell in love with it almost instantly.
Since then, I've probably watched it once or twice every month. Most people have a comfort film they return to every few years. Mine is Ghost World. It's become one of those films that feels like home.
It's difficult to explain why. The soundtrack is a huge part of it, but it's also the atmosphere, the quietness, and the way the story unfolds. It's not a film driven by action or big dramatic moments. Instead, it's built on awkward conversations, uncomfortable silences, and all the things happening between the lines. Every time I watch it, I notice something new.
As I've grown older, the film has grown with me.
When I first watched it as a teenager, I related to Enid because she never seemed to fit in anywhere. Watching it now in my thirties, I still understand Enid, but I also understand Rebecca's desire to build a life and move forward. And then there's Seymour, whose love of music and lack of self-worth make him one of the most quietly tragic characters in the film.
I don't think any of them are meant to be perfect. They're just lonely in different ways.
One of the reasons I love Ghost World so much is that it never tells you exactly what to think. It trusts its audience. If you watch it expecting constant plot twists, you might walk away wondering what everyone else sees in it. But if you pay attention to the small moments—the expressions, the pauses, the conversations that never quite say what they mean—there's an incredible amount beneath the surface.
There are still scenes that make me laugh no matter how many times I've seen them. Josh discovering the note left for him is comedy gold, and Seymour's complete discomfort in the adult shop never fails to make me smile. The humour feels awkward, human and wonderfully understated.
Then there's the ending.
It's one of those endings that people have debated for years. My own interpretation has always been that Enid gets on the bus because she can't cope with growing up. I see it as the moment she chooses to leave the world behind. Whether that's what the filmmakers intended or not almost doesn't matter. That's what the ending has always meant to me, and it's the scene that stays with me long after the credits roll.
Maybe that's why I keep coming back to Ghost World. It doesn't give me all the answers. It lets me bring my own experiences to it, and those experiences have changed over the years. The film hasn't changed, but I have.
For me, Ghost World isn't just a coming-of-age film. It's a film about loneliness, identity, friendship, and trying to find your place in a world that doesn't always make sense. It's subtle, melancholy, funny, and strangely comforting.
Seventeen years after I picked it up from a library shelf, it's still the film I reach for when I need to feel at home.
