Shortest hour

Subjective time is a familiar phenomenon. “Time flies when you’re having fun”, and all that. How the wait in the airport departure lounge drags on and on, while the holiday that follows whizzes by, accelerating as the last day approaches. When we’re stuck with things we dislike doing, those which are boring, painful, or anxiety-inducing, we find that time slows right down. We may even check to make sure that our watch hasn’t stopped. When we’re happy and involved, time speeds up again. A twenty minute dental appointment may feel interminable; an evening spent in pleasant company and we can’t believe it’s already time to be putting our coats on. 

It’s a respectable topic, both in literature and in real life. A couple of examples may suffice. (1) The subjective nature of the experience of time is a phenomenon discussed in a fictional context by the character Hans Castorp in Thomas Mann's "The Magic Mountain". That’s one you may want to pursue. (2) Albert Einstein employed it in an attempt to explain the concept of relativity, using as an analogy the scenario of time spent with a pretty girl versus time spent sitting on a hot stove. I’m not sure how much of either he actually did, but since it’s Einstein, we must respect the theory (although we don’t have to pretend that we understand relativity).

It can get complicated, and there are anomalies, of course. There always are. For instance, elapsed time as experienced going forward may not pass at the same perceived speed as when viewed retrospectively. A boring week in the office, roll on Friday, and when Friday evening eventually arrives, and we look back over the week, we may query where the time went. Never mind, Monday morning will soon be here and we can try again. Another example. In the early hours, as one day is biochemically ticking round into the next, time may pass unexpectedly quickly. I’ve often found that, if I need to be up ridiculously early, if I’m setting off on my travels somewhere, the few minutes I’ve allowed myself to get up, to have breakfast, and to get myself ready, pass with alarming rapidity. The subjective speed of time somehow – certainly not linearly – reflects the amount of activity that needs to go into it.

Then there’s cinematic time. A couple of weeks ago I watched a morning showing of  the superb “Darkest Hour”, for which Gary Oldman has deservedly received an award for his portrayal of Winston Churchill during some of the most perilous days of 1940. I found every minute of the film enjoyable and enthralling, and only wished it hadn’t ended when it did.  

 
I never looked at my watch once during it, my only potential zeitgeber being my moronically metronomic reflex reaching for another Malteser to munch. At the end of the film it felt like about an hour had passed, and I was extremely surprised – disbelieving in fact - that it was so much later than I expected it to be. The Maltesers had kept giveaway time-for-lunch pangs at bay, had successfully suppressed the most basic of biorhythms, but the film had gripped my attention moment by moment. Intense pleasure and mental involvement. I’ve checked since, and the running time for “Darkest Hour”  is two hours and five minutes. This must be one of the most subjectively distorted stretches of perceived time I’ve experienced – in a long time.