Ticket to sit down and shut up
My love of the movies trumps my misanthropy, calling me out into the light and then back into the dark. As far as human contact goes, it’s not bad; I just have to buy a ticket from one person, then have another rip it. I then say “thank you,” the one nicety I’m adept at. After that, I’m in a dark room with various people around me — no interaction required. Despite not having any direct contact, those around me still manage to provide supple irritation. I propose this list of annoyances for the off chance some offenders might read it and that I might shame them into rehabilitation.
Once the previews start, cell phones must be put away; it’s disrespectful to the other filmgoers and to the thousands of people who put their blood and sweat into making the film. The light can be seen from all angles of the room — such is the behavior of light in the dark. When you pay for a ticket, you’re not paying for the right to behave any which way you want, you’re paying to rent a cushy place for your butt while you experience a film — no more, no less. And is your attention span so infinitesimal — so shrunken by bite-sized media — that you can’t focus on a narrative for two hours without checking up on what shallow footprints your “friends” are leaving upon the earth. Time will kick sand over their footprints immediately, movies, on the other hand, last forever.
And there’s always one elderly person who has been taught how to use the flashlight on his or her phone, and walks into the theater like a mobile lighthouse. Just because you’re closer to death than the rest of us, doesn’t give you carte blanche. I propose there be ushers in every theater with little walnut hammers, so that when someone takes out their phone, the usher walks over and smashes their head in.
Unless you’re alone in the theater, or there’s at least a five-empty seat radius, plopping your feet up on the seat in front of you is inexcusable. When you’re at a restaurant, you don’t stick your feet on the table while you wait for your food, do you? But when the lights come down, manners seem to follow. Even if you are alone in the theater, as soon as another person walks in, you must immediately retract your legs, as you never know where that person might like to sit. In fact, the only time in life that putting your feet up in public is acceptable, is if you’re armless and you have a question.
There are two categories of unwanted speech in a theater: casual conversations and film commentary — both equally heinous in their ignorance. I can’t even begin to understand casual conversations during a film — there are 22 other hours in the day far more conducive to discussion. It’s like going to a football game to read “David Copperfield.” Beyond that, I highly suspect that your thoughts are like green eggs and ham: unwanted in any arena.
Film commentary is typically enacted by the very young and very old. The young will often take a stab at humor, miss their target and fall on the blade themselves. The old, whose senses are already transitioning to the next life, will often ask questions, either not hearing or because their senile brains have trouble keeping up. If you have a question, either keep your mouth shut and look it up later or come to terms with not knowing.
A very wise man once said, “All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone.” If humanity can’t even sit quietly in a room with other people during a movie, we are truly doomed.
