On Phones and Cinema

I'm expecting letters.

Recently on social media, fans of the film Wicked began posting pictures and videos taken inside the theater during their first of what would clearly be many viewings of the new film. To be clear, these are not casual viewers. They’re superfans. Maybe their excitement simply got the better of them. Maybe they are also part of the “influencer generation” that feels an experience is not real until it has been documented and shared online. Maybe it’s both. What’s indisputable is that they breached what many consider to be a vital social construct. They also broke the law—it’s called piracy—although that’s not what the film community is so upset about.

The posts caused outrage among cinephiles, critics, and film journalists, with hundreds weighing in to condemn the offending parties, and, in several cases, arguing that they should be shot for their transgressions. Hyperbole aside, the incident clearly touched a nerve. Cinemas are sacred spaces for many sensitive folks, a place where they can forget the outside world and lose themselves in a work of visual and sonic art. It’s where they process emotions. A place to connect with their childhood selves. A true sanctuary that is increasingly sullied by what they perceive as rude, thoughtless, and even antisocial behavior. 

People keep telling me that loud talking. phone use, and even singing along to the music in movie theaters is increasing. I haven’t experienced it—I live in Connecticut, where movies are sparsely attended and people don’t know how to express their feelings—but I believe them because, more and more, I have felt the urge to reach for my phone during movies. I don’t do it, except in rare cases when I’m alone in the theater, but I feel the urge physically, like an itch that needs to be scratched. We are all addicted to our phones to some degree, and if I didn’t have such reverence for film, I’d probably be one of those annoying people scrolling through Instagram during a screening of Red One. Let’s be honest: Some movies are not designed to be watched closely.

So I’ve been trying to figure out where I stand on this issue, and I’m having a tougher time than expected. I don’t support simply obliterating the rules and allowing people to use their phones with abandon. Most serious people agree that we must have some standard for behavior in a cinema, even if it’s not always met. At every major theater chain, a pre-movie video is played encouraging viewers to put their phones on silent and refrain from talking during the film. These little PSAs have been around for as long as I’ve been going to the movies. Being respectful of each other is not a new idea.

But here’s the thing: Our relationship with our phones has drastically changed. Asking people not to look at their phones is like asking them not to breathe. It is, quite simply, how they perceive the world, and we tolerate it in many other venues. Have you ever taken a photo at a sporting event or a concert? Tell me how this is so vastly different. You might say that taking a photo at a concert doesn’t disrupt anyone else’s experience. Au contraire. When I see thousands of phones being held up between me and the band, my experience is thoroughly disrupted. Meanwhile, the feeling of sanctuary I once had at baseball games has been obliterated by other exigencies of the short-attention span era. Loud music, flashing lights, faster games. I don’t enjoy going to games like I used to, and I’ve had to get used to that. It’s one of the reasons I only went to two Mets games this year.

When I go to a Grateful Dead-related concert, there are “tapers” who record shabby audio and make it available for free online. It’s a tradition that goes back to the band’s early days, when there was actually a “tapers section” in the crowd. These tapers are revered by some members of the community and tolerated by the rest of us. Oh, and they get special treatment. When we’re all in a bottleneck trying to cram our way into the arena, we’ll often hear a guy announce “Taper!’ and the crowd will part so that this gentleman (they’re almost always men) can get in first and find a prime spot near the stage. Is it disruptive? Yeah, a little. It’s also an inextricable part of Deadhead culture. Sometimes I wonder if that’s the direction film is moving in.

The more I think about all this, the more it seems we’ve all gotten a little too precious about our moviegoing. In the early days of cinema, people used to throw vegetables at the screen. They would boo and hiss villains in silent movies. They’d vocally cheer for the cowboy in the white hat. We shouldn’t go back to that (although I’d be willing to have the debate), but maybe there’s a happy medium between respecting each other and treating cinema like church. When exactly did we come to expect total silence in movie theaters? I find myself getting annoyed these days if someone crumples their popcorn bag too loud or shakes their box of Junior Mints for a second longer than needed. If we’re getting angry about candy, something is amiss.

Whereas once cinema was either art or entertainment, we now expect it to redeem the outside world, or at least provide true respite from it. That’s simply too big of an ask, and perhaps not a healthy one. The movie theater is not an escape from society. It’s part of our society, and yet, on the issue of snapping pictures and taking video, neither the offending parties nor the offended are treating it as such. As the Wicked clips made their way through the social media infrastructure on Monday, and people shared their own horror stories of disruptions in movie theaters, I read very few accounts of people trying to resolve their issue in person. Instead, they saved their outrage for Twitter and Blue Sky. Apparently, even cinephiles are not immune to living their lives online. 

There’s no surefire way to deal with a person being disruptive in a movie theater, but there are things you can try. You could ask them to be quiet and put their phone away. It might not work, but it could make them think twice before doing it next time, if only to avoid the awkwardness. (This generation hates awkwardness even more than putting their phones away.) You could change seats. You could try to ignore them. Complaining to the manager seems like a fine idea, especially since a law is being broken.

Another option, and you may not want to hear this, is simply waiting to see the film at home, where you can have complete control over the environment. To be honest, I often have a better experience watching films on my television, where I don’t have to worry about anything but myself. It’s easier for me to get lost in the storytelling that way. Some of my best moviegoing experiences have been on my couch. I watched We Live in Time last week at home, and wept like a baby. I wouldn’t have allowed myself to feel that catharsis if I was surrounded by strangers. I can see why cinephiles don’t want to cede ground to those who don’t respect movies or the social contract, but at some point, you just have to save yourself the stress.

In other words, you can adjust, and what other choice do we have? We live in a polarized society, where our understanding of the nature of the universe differs based on where we get our news.  Why should a movie theater be any different? Expecting our favorite things to stay the same is a loser’s bet. As Bob Dylan wrote, “Everything passes, everything changes, just do what you think you should do.” I’d say: You can either change where you go, or you can change where you’re coming from.