Jonathan Dodd‘s latest column. Guest opinion articles do not necessarily reflect the views of the publication. Ed
I’ll never understand why cinemas sell popcorn, and sweets in the crinkliest, noisiest packages imaginable. It’s almost as if they’ve done research on finding the loudest and most awkward packaging to create the most disruption possible to anyone’s concentration.
I’m a fan of Mark Kermode and Simon Mayo on Friday afternoons on Radio 5Live, a station which I otherwise don’t listen to. They’re grown-ups who love cinema, and they’re intelligent and very funny together.
A ten-commandment code of conduct
There’s a large amount of audience participation, much of which revolves round the bad habits of cinema-goers, and it has resulted in a ten-commandment code of conduct that you should respect if you want to be taken seriously as a lover of film. It goes like this.
- No eating (unless you take silent food in silent packaging, such as a soft roll in a cloth bag)
- No slurping (especially from straws from huge ice-filled buckets of fizzy sugary stuff)
- No rustling (see above for packaging and the aforementioned popcorn)
- No mobile phone usage (in my view, these people should be tasered where they sit)
- No irresponsible parenting (babies – apart from special showings – children far too young for 12a films, and children who don’t sit and behave, obviously)
- No kicking of seats (having your kidneys massaged by the feet of the person behind you isn’t conducive to movie fun)
- No hobbies (I like this one. It applies to any activity not directly related to the watching of films)
- No arriving late (one of my own particular bugbears. They should lock the doors once the film starts)
- No talking (Obviously, really, but I’m often still having to listen to someone’s grandmother’s problems with their feet five minutes in from the start of a film)
- No shoe removal (consider this to be a plea for personal cleanliness whilst in a confined and crowded space)
Climbing over seats, just like in school
I was once in a cinema in Brighton, about to watch Back to the Future, when it first came out. The place was heaving, and it was all teenagers, yammering away, throwing things, climbing over seats, just like in school. I was thinking I would have to go home, when the film started.
Amazingly, if you remember the film itself, it starts with a scene in a kitchen where an assortment of alarm clocks dispense dogfood from tins to a dog that’s not been there for some days, and Michael J Fox plugging an electric guitar into the largest speaker and set of amps you’ve ever seen. Once that scene was over, you could have heard a pin drop in there for the whole of the rest of the film. That’s the magic of movies.
Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves except me
I was also once in a cinema in Star City, in North Birmingham, a 30-screen complex. It was a late-night showing of Vanilla Sky, yet another disappointing Hollywood remake of a moderately successful Spanish film. The cinema was packed once again by an international audience, all of whom were on their phones constantly and talking to each other loudly so they could be heard over the soundtrack. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves except me.
I’m not trying to portray myself as some kind of puritan fanatic here. There are plenty of occasions when it’s fine to make a noise during a film. Children’s films are wonderful, because they naturally express their appreciation in less constrained ways. A certain amount of uninhibited laughter or whooping, and some screaming or gasping is also fine, as long as it’s relevant to the film itself, and comes from your reaction to it.
As if the whole audience is holding its breath
The most moving film experiences for me come after really astonishingly good films, when the credits roll at the end and the lights come up and it’s completely silent, as if the whole audience is holding its breath, completely under the spell of the film they have just seen. The first time I experienced this was at the end of the Deer Hunter, and it remains one of the most incredible experiences of my life.
Everyone should by now be so used to the notices and warnings that they should have their phones switched off, but there’s always someone. We’ve all experienced the terrible phone ring in the dramatic moment of a play or concert, and the offending phone is always at the bottom of some Tardis-like handbag, set to as-loud-as-possible.
Save their money and watch it on YouTube later
I have heard of actors stopping the play so they can make the point about the ruination of the performance. I believe Kevin Spacey does that, waiting until the offending audience member leaves the theatre before resuming. And lately Benedict Cumberbatch has begged people to stop filming him while he’s trying to act, because the screens are incredibly distracting.
I know everyone films concerts on their phones. Apart from the terrible quality, it ruins the actual experience anyway. I don’t understand why people go and then spend the whole concert looking at the phone screen instead of just enjoying the show. They might as well save their money and watch it on YouTube later.
Shocked by the behavior of some very different participants
We always think it’s the young, mainly teenagers, who are guilty of making enough disruption to spoil a performance for others, and we think of films particularly. We assume that they’re too selfish and wrapped-up in their own egos to recognize the effects they might have on others. And we tend to think of manners being taught in childhood but only truly understood and practiced in proper adulthood. But recently I was shocked by the behavior of some very different participants.
We went to a Prom. In the actual Royal Albert Hall. We managed to get two tickets up high, round the side of the second tier, way above the stage, with a surprisingly good view. Up there it’s all small boxes, seating four or five, with a low wall separating them. There were five people next to us, two of whom were obviously there for the music, and three old people just there for the event.
The annoying dialogue was that goo
These three spent the whole concert shifting around, talking in what they might have thought was a low whisper, but actually very loud. It wasn’t even interesting or entertaining. During Tapiola, a tone-poem by Sibelius describing the Finnish forests (yes, I know you had to be there. I was entranced), one of them leaned to another and said very loudly – ‘Scandinavian!’ The annoying dialogue was that good.
This person also had a piece of paper in his hand the whole time, which he was rubbing for some reason between his fingers, which produced a crinkling noise. After the interval they opened a hamper of food, and proceeded to open wine bottles, pour noisily, glug loudly, and chomp their way through an unending variety of foodstuffs. They even managed to produce some sticky sweets in the loudest wrappings ever, and not manage to unwrap them successfully so they had to pass them round. And then one of then felt they needed to fold the wrapper as small and as carefully as possible before wrapping it in a serviette.
Hitting a large wooden box with a huge wooden mallet
Their particular triumph came at the end of a piece of very modern music, which involved, among other things, hitting a large wooden box with a huge wooden mallet. Before the start of this piece, which was stunning and surprisingly effective, the conductor reminded the audience that the concert was being broadcast on Radio 3. At the end of this piece there was a pause of about three seconds before the applause started, into which the voice of one of the people in the next box clearly spoke the immortal words – ‘Very interesting!’ in a tired and supercilious drawl.
I think you probably know me well enough by now to tell that I was almost unrestrainably annoyed by this. These people were actually spoiling my evening. I had looked forward to it for ages, it cost a lot of money to make the trip, and it was a fantastic performance, a night otherwise to savour. There was no reason for them to act as they did, and I can only assume either that they were all so deaf they didn’t notice the noise they were making, or that they didn’t care.
People who should have been old and wise
For me there is a point up to which I will make excuses for lapses in behaviour. The aforementioned teenage self-centredness being one. I was particularly guilty of that myself, as I remember only too well. But I’ve been trying to atone for that ever since, not wishing to spoil anyone else’s evenings.
I’m quite happy to shush people or just stare at them in a cinema if they’re being noisy, in case they haven’t thought about it yet. But I was so shocked at the simple rudeness of these people who should have been old and wise and would no doubt have complained bitterly if I had made some noise.
People have a duty to take others into account
I wonder if they had just become old and didn’t care any more. Or if they were completely deaf, in which case I don’t know why they went to a concert in the first place. And, of course, you’re entitled to suggest that I’m being over-sensitive and shouldn’t get so het-up about a little bit of noise.
But you’d be wrong. It’s rudeness and lack of respect, and people have a duty to take others into account.
If you have been, thank you for reading this. And remember, popcorn is for evenings at home, not for the cinema.
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