The movie theatre is a dying platform. It crumbles under the weight of Netflix, ticket prices, and piracy – not to mention that most are just too plain lazy to leave the comforts of their home. I find that it is the audience that has been ruining my experience as of late. I get it; we’re all in this together. We’ve all bought a ticket and some popcorn and have scoured for the perfect seat in the middle of the row. We all have a stake in the experience we are about to take in together but with that said, I believe, with every ounce of celluloid that runs in my veins, that disruptive and ignorant behaviour is not only idiotic but just plain rude. If no one has informed you yet, allow me the pleasure of doing so: if you talk loud enough that someone, or everyone, in the theatre can hear you, and you continue to do so anyway throughout the film, know that you are an asshole.
You have destroyed the cinematic experience for all of us. You have taken us away from the sight and sound that has been meticulously crafted by a filmmaker and their team of hundreds, who all possess a devout passion for what they’ve created. Months and sometimes years have been spent behind the scenes to create the film that has just made it to the screen. And there’s so much more that you didn’t see. You didn’t see the writer secluded from their family as they toiled with the words they hoped you’d one day love. You didn’t see the dozens of rejected pitches and their struggle to face them. You didn’t see the crew busting their ass to appease the director’s vision. You didn’t see anything. You were too busy talking or looking at your phone to acknowledge the blood, sweat, and tears that went into the film that everyone else is trying to watch and appreciate.
You’re so self-centered that you have no empathy for the people around you. You care not for the student who treated themselves after a tough week, or the mother or father who took their kids to the movie even though they probably couldn’t afford it. You don’t stop and think about the older woman who goes to the theatre alone in remembrance of her late husband who used to take her every weekend. No, you don’t think about that at all. You lack the capacity for it, in fact.
And I pity you. I pity how stupid you are to spend over $10 on a film and then waste it to text your friends or scroll through Twitter. What you probably don’t see is how similar you are to the zombie that you aren’t watching on the big screen. And as annoying as your behavior is, it’s both laughable and depressing as I wonder what else you missed in your life because you were so compelled by the device that you continue to rip from your pocket.
I’ll try to give you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe you don’t like the film. I get it. I’ve seen my fair share but that doesn’t mean that my opinions are unanimous with the other individuals around me. That doesn’t give me the right to sabotage the experience. I can either leave, or watch the rest of the film despite my displeasure. No matter how bad the film, I refuse to partake in any thoughtless behavior that will distract another audience member. There’s simply no excuse.
Movies were made to be an escape. They were made to encourage us to leave our troubles at the door and to inspire some of the most potent feelings and connections. They were crafted to make us believe in the impossible, to make us forget the moments that are dragging us down, that have beaten us up and have left us weakened and shrunken.
Movies were made to pick us up and to put a kick in our step so that we may face our troubles and conquer them. Movies were made to be watched.