Why I'm Done With Movie Theaters

I just got back from seeing Lincoln at a movie theater in Odessa. It was remarkable, will likely sweep the Oscars (especially if the nominations are any indication) and you should see it. I have things to say about the movie as both history and as film, but that's not what I'm here to discuss.

Instead I'm here to announce that with the exception of movies geared toward my seven-year-old nephew, I am done with movie theaters. I thought I was done a few years ago after a series of events during the first Sherlock Holmes movie a few years ago, but I came back (albeit rarely). But I have now decided to forego the theater experience entirely in favor of our wonderful drive-in theater in Midland that puts on double features of three pairs of first-run features for less than the cost of one theater ticket and waiting to watch dvd's or On Demand in the comfort of my living room.

The long-stated advantages of the theater experience have been extolled by critics and other aficionados for generations. Movies are best enjoyed as a communal experience, they say. Or, the theater, with its surround sound and seating and popcorn and the big screen elevates the experience.

Let me dispense with the second half of that defense first: Sure, the theater is great in its idealized form. But the problem is that I can come pretty close to that experience in my car at the drive in, and in many ways I can surpass it at home. My sound at home may not compete, but my couch is a lot more comfortable, and I can make popcorn and can snack throughout for a lot less money (a small popcorn today would have cost me $5.50), and while it may make me a philistine, I am happy with my big-screen High def television. During the day I cannot envelope myself in darkness, to be sure, but on the other hand, at my house I can munch on braised short ribs, drink beer or wine, and, if I need to, I can stop the movie to go pee.

But none of these would be enough to make me sacrifice those things about the theater that I admit I do appreciate, especially on opening night for a huge new movie, or something I have been waiting to see irrespective of its bigness.

It's the first half of the equation, the "movies as communal experience" myth that has, at least for me, long been debunked. I don't want to seem like an old man, I really don't. But I suppose the largely rhetorical question that follows will give the game away: When the fuck did it become ok to chatter throughout movies? And when did it become ok to ignore repeated requests to turn off one's phone, to neither text nor talk (nor allow one's ringer or message chime) during a movie?

Today should have represented the perfect movie experience. A Saturday matinee of a serious film several weeks after its premier should not have been the venue for widespread idiocy among the patrons. And at first it was promising -- there were possible a dozen people, perhaps a few more or less, in the theater. And yet the promise failed. At least five different people used cell phones during the movie. Three of them for texting purposes, one incessantly -- do people not realize just how distracting the lights on a cell phone are anywhere within range of one's vision, peripheral included? One woman several seats down to my left spent a good 20 minutes on her phone during the middle of a movie that really required one's full attention. Two other people let their cell go off multiple times.

Not to put too fine a point on it, but what the fuck were these people thinking? As soon as previews come on (and preferably well before that) at minimum, anyone in a movie theater or who might be in a movie theater should turn the volume (and vibration mode, which makes its own distracting noise) to zero. But really, if you have something urgent going on outside, why are you at the movies? Turn your damned phone off. I am as bad as anyone about checking my phone. I know I have let my phone become the appendage that has me glancing for texts during conversations, surreptitiously (or so we all think) checking emails, mindlessly doing Words With Friends at random moments. But that's exactly why I turn my phone off at times when it is not appropriate to do any of those things.

And while it would be convenient to say that it's all the fault of those pesky teens with their iPhones and smartphones and emoticons, the reality is that every single one of the violators in the movie today were my age or older -- in two cases substantially older. I never ant to go to a movie again with a heavy teen demographic, but my experience today reminds me that when it comes to how too many of us act at the movies, we are all one giant teen demographic.

And then there is the talking. When people speak quietly they tend to speak at a lower range, at a murmur. But what most people do not recognize is that that can be exactly the sort of sound frequency that is most pervasive. Stage whispering, sotto voce, whatever it is, other people will hear it. And it will distract them. And if everyone in a theater does it once, that makes for many distractions. And it makes the movie watching experience worse.

Now, I'd love to end this with the power of my outrage giving me moral superiority. I'd love to claim the high road and maintain that I rode it to martyrdom only to let loose with my silent, clench-jawed suffering to any of you who might be reading this.

I'd love to. But it's not true.

I have an issue with keeping my feelings to myself (source of greatest strength is my source of greatest weakness and all that) or keeping things bottled up. With me you know where you stand. But the irony is that if you make a scene during the movie you end up not only committing but surpassing the very sin you are combating. So I let it build. And fester. And simmer to a low boil. And then heat up to a full on bubbles raging with fury boil.

And when the movie was done I let loose. To everyone there (I'm effectively quoting but obviously cannot perfectly replicate it here, so no quotation marks.):

There are two rules. Any adult knows these rules. No talking. No cellphones. And a lot of you people violated those basic fucking rules. (Yes, with f-bomb.)

That did not go over well with at least a couple of the guardians of morality in the theater. The first guy confronted me on the way out and we had a heated but by and largely civil walk and talk. I probably should not have used the f-word, and acknowledged as much, but also pointed out that any adult who feigns to be offended by that word (used at least once in the film, btw) or worse yet feigns offense for others probably should not go out in public too much. Not much came of it, but it certainly set me on edge.

The second guy was a bit more aggressive in the lobby. Well, sort of aggressive. Mostly passive aggressive. He starts the conversation, after telling me that I "need to calm down."

That's the kind of thing that can get your ass kicked. 

Well, if someone is inclined to kick my ass I'm standing here. 

We're not all pussies here in West Texas.

Hey, Emily Post, I'm not the one talking about kicking someone's ass who is standing right there in front of them. 

etc.

The friend I went to the movie with knew the other guy (and probably was not thrilled with my comportment, fair enough -- I'm wishing I'd acted differently too) and did enough to diffuse the situation.

Now, a general rule of thumb is that if you piss one person off to the point of confrontation, well, so be it. Twice? Well, it's probably on you. So: it's on me. 

Still, I'm done with going to the movies.

Nonetheless, on behalf of what I hope is still the silent majority of movie-goers`: Please. Pretty please. With a cherry on top: Shut the fuck up, and turn off your goddamned phone.