voices in the dark

I now understand why, when I say "I talk during movies," people have such a strong negative reaction. It's because they're thinking of the talkers, of the teenagers that just use the opportunity of being in the dark to drool on each others' faces, play stupid pranks on each other, and have meaningless conversations instead of actually watching the movie. When I say I talk during movies, that is not to say I am not cognizant of the people around me; rather, I consciously try my best not to be disruptive. And I don't carry on conversations, either. I guess it would be more concise to say I talk to the movies, that I direct my comments toward the screen rather than necessarily wanting to be heard by my companions. I interact with the movie itself because I am so caught up in the story. And I do so as quietly as possible. That is what I mean when I say I talk during movies.

What brought on this bout of self-reflection? A bad experience at the movies, of course. "Bad" is an understatement, at best. Yesterday I took the day off (which I am trying not to regret at the moment, just as I am trying not to regret taking the ten-fifteen minutes it will take me to write this blog) and decided that I wanted to see what is quickly becoming my new all-time favorite movie, The Holiday (I can't quite bring myself to say it replaces my favorite movie yet, Back to the Future, because I've seen that one literally hundreds of times). This was (I am almost ashamed to admit) my fifth time seeing it at the theater. It's at the dollar show now (which is in reality the $1.50 show), and the theater that shows dollar shows is in the one and only local mall. (I believe the next closest one is 20-30 miles away.) I should have been thinking a little bit more: Dollar show + mall + cold Saturday afternoon = a bunch of bratty teenagers with nothing better to do, whose parents drop them off at the mall for (most likely) relief from having them in the house. The parents probably think, At least I know what they're doing and where they are. How much trouble can they get into at the mall?

Wrong.

I noticed as I was standing in the long line for tickets that I could have just walked straight into the theater and watched any movie I wished. There wasn't an usher actually checking the tickets and letting you in. But being the honest person that I am, I stood in that long line and waited. I had been there five minutes early, thinking the line wouldn't be long, and ended up entering the movie fifteen minutes late. This didn't bother me since I had seen it so many times and did not want to see that stupid Premonition trailer one more time (I swear I will never, ever, ever see that movie as long as I live. It looks horrible and I'm sick of seeing the trailer.) But when I sat down near the front--the only seats still available where I wouldn't be walking in front of anyone or blocking anyone's view--I realized that I was sitting behind a bunch of teenagers--thirteen or fourteenish--that had been goofing around outside of the theater when I went in to get my tickets. They hadn't stood in line, I was sure. They just walked in without paying. Fine. What did I care? I was going to watch my movie.

Immediately, though, I was regretting my choice of seats. They wouldn't stop moving or talking to each other. One kept knocking off the other guys' hats, and then would run from one row to the other, switching seats every five to ten minutes. They were texting people on their cell phones, and I'm betting they didn't even know what the movie was about after being in the theater for half an hour. What was more, this theater didn't completely dim the lights when the movie started, so I (we) was sitting directly under a light, which made it easier to see what they were doing and be distracted by it. When I realized that I had missed one of my favorite scenes in the movie because one of them was being so disruptive that I was watching him, I decided to wait until a part of the movie I didn't care about, go to the restroom, come back, and sit on the other side of the theater. Which I did.

Didn't help. Now the kids were directly opposite me and seemed even louder than they had before. Was it the difference in acoustics, or was it that they were actually louder? Probably the latter. Whatever the case, I breathed a sigh of relief when, apparently bored with the movie (since they didn't know what it was about to begin with), they left. But twenty minutes before the movie ended, a group of even younger teenagers/pre-teens came in and vacated the seats the previous group had left empty. This group was talking very loudly and when someone "shh'd" them, one of the smart-ass kids fake-coughed "shut up" right back. With both groups, I seriously thought of going and getting management to kick them out of the theater, but I didn't for three reasons: (1) I would miss even more of my movie; (2) doing so would be even more disruptive than the kids had been, even if the disruption only lasted a few mintues; and (3) there probably wasn't any management in the theater. The only people working were late teens/early twenties, and there were only three to four of them at most. That is the same reason I didn't complain afterward--what good would it do? These kids were doing their jobs and couldn't really stop what was going on because the theater wasn't willing to shell out the dough to pay an usher to make sure no one was sneaking in.

Anyway, my experience was ruined and I will probably never go to that theater again, at least when kids are out of school. I imagine it was like being a stranger in a theater with Dennis, Ethie, Log, and 7&7.