Dear Fellow Movie Goer:
I enjoy hanging out with most of you. I really do. There’s no experience that equals watching a good football game or a movie with an audience.
But some of you? Some of you need to STFU. It’s that simple. In short: the movie theater is not your living room.
I really was cruising through an epic piece of fluff called Cowboys & Aliens Tuesday night. Harrison Ford. Daniel Craig and a mash-up of two very unlikely movie genres – the western and the sci-fi invasion flick. Sweet, sweet stuff.
That’s until I realized that I was seated in front of a couple of mental midgets who suffered from diarrhea of the mouth throughout the movie. They are the most annoying type of filmgoer. They know it all. They want to converse with the person with them and they need to crack their own jokes.
Sorry, but with all due respect. Last I checked you weren’t part of the flick. I do not need your running commentary throughout a film that I’m sitting through to review. I’m there to form my own opinions, not listen to yours. You want to provide an opinion, do it for the marketing person waiting for the audience when they exit the theater.
I don’t need you telling me what is painfully obvious to my own peepers. Shouting out “there he go” when Craig’s character is riding off at a crucial moment isn’t exactly necessary nor are you adding anything meaningful to what’s happening on the screen. Translation: you’re not impressing anyone with your observational skills.
Your jokes??? Really??? Seriously???
I don’t need those either. If I need jokes I’ll go watch a rerun of The Muppet Show and listen to those two old dudes who used to crack wise on Kermit the Frog, Miss Piggy and their entourage.
And as long as we’re going here, can we talk about your cell phone?
Yes, we are going to go there. In this hectic world, I understand the need to be perpetually connected to the outside. Really I do. I’m a journalist. Writing here isn’t my only gig. I have a day job actually and on more than a few occasions the boss – meaning my editor – has to get hold of me.
But here’s the reality: after I check all my email, text messages and, yes, even Facebook before the movie, my phone goes on vibrate. It stays there and it doesn’t come out. And should I actually be expecting an important message, phone call or email, I leave the theater before pulling it out to look at it. My phone isn’t illuminated to help someone else find their seats. And no one really needs to hear my ringtone of The Jacksons’ This Place Hotel.
For you parents, who can’t get a babysitter for R-rated movies, keep your butts at home with the children. That is where you should be. It shocked me, although it probably shouldn’t have after hindsight, to see several parents bring children to raunchfests such as Bridesmaids and The Hangover Part II. We’re not talking teen-agers. We’re talking kids under the age of 10. God knows I want my 7-year-old being exposed to a guy diving head first into a pile of cocaine or enduring jokes about anal sex between a pre-op transexual and a guy and eventually seeing pictures of said sex act. Nothing like having to explain that one.
But of course heaven forbid you actually show some consideration for the adults in the audience who came to see a film with adult material without having to worry about being disturbed by a whining toddler or bratty child under 10.
Am I telling you how to raise your children? Maybe? But most normal parents wouldn’t expose children to that type of content. Nor should any movie-goer who is reasonably respectful of anyone else at the theater endure that other crap.
The movie theater isn’t your living room. If you feel the need to comment, predict plot points or do anything other than to react appropriately to what’s on the screen, please keep your arses firmly planted in your couch at home and stream Netflix. Then you can be as annoying as you want.