As we enter a major movie-going season, second only to summer, the question has to be asked: What is it about being in a theater that makes otherwise normal people into such assholes?
There, I said it. I was trying to think of some way to be polite, to give them the benefit of the doubt by saying they've just forgotten they're out in public, that they were distracted by some important business in their lives and didn't realize there were other people around—like me—who actually had an interest in the film being shown.
But no, they're simply assholes.
Case in point: Some time ago, my wife and I were at a theater in town to see something. The theater and the film don't really matter, because this is a social plague that cuts across all lines of class, income and education. The theater was nearly empty, and two rows back was a young couple. The man was busy talking throughout the movie on his cell phone. His girlfriend, having lost her date as a conversational companion, simply addressed her comments to the screen. Every time I made to turn around and say something, my wife stopped me ... until it became too much for her, too. "Excuse me, but would you mind being quiet? We're trying to watch the movie," she finally said. To which the girlfriend said, "Who is she talking to? Who is that [a rude phrase for those of the female persuasion] talking to? Because I know she ain't talking to me." Well, there was an elderly couple a few rows behind us on the other side who had also been talking throughout the movie, so maybe she was legitimatly confused. Her boyfriend quieted her down, and for the rest of the movie we got to listen to his cell phone conversations and her muttering.
Another time, I was at an evening press screening for The Last Samurai. The public is always at these showings, but I was sitting in a row reserved for the working media and their guests. And the middle-aged woman sitting next me was speaking Chinese to the elderly woman on her other side throughout the movie. I shushed her, but she gave no indication that she had heard me. A few minutes of chatter later, I quietly asked her to stop talking. Despite this being an English-language movie, she didn't seem to understand what I was saying; she didn't even seem to realize I was speaking directly to her, despite my face being inches from hers. It wasn't until I told her that I knew she could understand me and that I was going to have her thrown out if she didn't shut up that she actually shut up. Curiously, I haven't seen her at a press screening since.
But both of those are topped by a story related to me by Chris, a graphic designer I know. He had been at a movie where one guy asked another man to be quiet. Words were exchanged, tempers rose and the two began to grapple with each other. At that point, Chris said, half the theater emptied out. Chris stayed, so he was able to watch one of the men get the other in a headlock, pull out a gun and hold it to his temple. "Who's the bitch now?" or some similar question was asked, at which point the remainder of the audience left. Presumably, the answer was satisfactory and one man enjoyed a private screening.
Everyone has similar tales to tell. Well, maybe not as dramatic as Chris', but close enough. Crying babies at R-rated movies. People taking or making phone calls. People talking to each other. Kicking seats. Laser pointers. The glow of a dozen cell phone screens as people check the time or play games.
This all begs a couple of questions. One is, do any of these people ever complain that their movie-going experience is being ruined by someone else? The other is, why?
The theory du jour is that like everything else wrong with modern life, it's TV's fault. The argument is something like this: We sometimes watch movies on TV at home. At home, we don't have to worry about bothering strangers so we're free to make cell phone calls, kick the seat in front of us and play with laser pointers. When we go to a movie, we're now conditioned to continue the same behavior.
I don't know about you, but when I'm watching a movie at home, I tend to watch the movie. If I start talking during the movie, I get dirty looks from my wife. If I continue, I get kicked off the couch. Heck, that even happens with sitcoms.
This theory is most often advanced by people of a certain generation, the last to grow up without a TV as babysitter—baby boomers. But the problem with blaming it on the kids is that it ignores the many seniors who don't know how to behave at a movie, as well as boomers' offspring who presumably would have learned their manners at their allegedly polite parents' feet.
No, this deluge of bad manners has nothing to do with anything other than our lack of manners. Time was that parents never would have considered bringing crying babies to expensive restaurants, strangers were addressed as "sir" or "miss," and people dressed up for special occasions. Sometime in the late 1960s, though, it was decided that all of that was just bourgeois trappings and anti-egalitarian. Parents with squalling infants demanded their "rights" be respected (as if a reservation at Le Cirque was enshrined in the Constitution), calling someone "sir" demonstrated a concrete class system rather than respect and asking that someone not wear a T-shirt and shorts to the opera was fascist.
Unfortunately, having bad manners is something like catching the flu; it's highly contagious. When everyone else around you is chattering during Saving Private Ryan, it doesn't seem like such a big deal if you whisper your bon mot to your neighbor. Suddenly, being considerate of those around you takes a back seat to your own importance and ego. Who cares about some unknown people around you if you've just got to check in on what your buddy is up to that very minute, or you just realized Bruce Willis is really a ghost who can only be seen by Haley Joel Osment and need to tell your date in a loud, impressive voice.
Is there a cure? If we throw more tax money at stem-cell research, will scientists come up with some kind of injection that will reintroduce common courtesy into the general population? Doubtful. Bad manners are just too ingrained at this point, and the tide cannot be reversed. Frankly, I'm surprised it hasn't become socially acceptable to urinate and defecate in the streets (other than in San Francisco, of course).
The only suggestion I have is to fight fire with fire. When someone invades your space by blathering on about the plot, turn around and see what they think about the quality of the acting. If someone makes a call to set up drinks after the show, ask if you can join them. When your neighbor's baby starts fussing during a tense scene, insist on taking the child and bouncing it on your own knee. After all, they've already demonstrated that they see the world as a big, communal village, so you might as well join in the love.
Unless they're armed, of course. In that case, maybe you can get a rain-check for another night.