It's the Guardian, so you know it's something ridiculous

"The Willem Dafoe film that only one person can see at a time".

It's "conceptual art": the "work" is the film being watched by one person. 

The film is Sculpt: Eye of the Duck, starring Willem Dafoe and Charlotte Rampling – and only one person gets to watch it at a time. Its director, the French conceptual artist Loris Gréaud, has cut six versions since its 2016 premier at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art; less than 500 people saw that first film at Lacma and even fewer have seen the subsequent edits, although you can dig up some clips on the dark web. Dark Mofo – Hobart’s winter festival – is now screening its seventh iteration, with nine tickets made available each day. Only 90 people will get a chance to watch the movie, and the act of seeing it is part of the show.

Now, perhaps the film maker came up with this gimmick because only one person showed up to watch the movie in the first place. I don't know. But I think I can go him one better. I'm going to announce that the famous conceptual artist, Monsieur Pacqueau, has completed the production of a startling new film, which can be viewed by only one person - ever. A lottery will be held to determine who gets the admission ticket (tickets to see who gets the ticket will be a chic 1,000 bucks a pop). The lucky winner will attend on the designated evening, walk through a hundred-yard maze of velvet ropes, and the artist himself - which is to say, yours truly - will be standing there, dressed in white tie and tails, to receive his admission ticket. I will take it from him, look at it, and then announce in a voice of withering scorn, "Imbécile! Theese ticket was only good for last Tuesday's matinee". Then I will tear up the ticket, turn on my heels, and march away in a state of high dudgeon.*

Of course, there will have been no movie at all.

*I will pick up speed as I approach the rear exit of the theater, thrust open the doors, and jump into a waiting cab, speeding away before the "patron" knows what hit him. I mean, you never know; he may be some low brow who doesn't understand conceptual art, and lingering to explain it to him might not be good for my health.