RUDENESS TOO COMMON AT MOVIES, CONCERTS
Two men were kicked out of a Boston Pops concert last
week. Apparently, they started fighting
because one of them wouldn’t stop talking during the performance. If that’s true, getting kicked out was too
good for the talker. I’d have him stoned
publicly. Or at least forced to listen
to “It’s Only Rock and Roll.” He won’t
like it.
Is it just me, or have people become more convinced that the
importance of whatever they have to say outweighs how little a paying audience wants
to hear it?
Seeing movies or concerts as a kid, I always remember the
surroundings as being supernaturally quiet.
If we had to say something during a show, we always whispered it, and
heaven forbid you make any kind of noise during a concert. Nowadays, it’s a
totally different ball game. Even if
you’re sitting in the family-friendly section.
There are all kinds of people who talk as if other people
don’t matter. Here’s a field guide:
The Giggly Girl
Talker. These usually travel in
packs, and are attracted to multiplex theaters. They communicate in signs, strange vocabulary,
and giggles, all for reasons that have nothing to do with the movie.
The Extremely
Important Conversation Holder. This
busy executive simply has to answer his cell phone right away, in the middle of
a darkened theater, and let us all know what he’s up to. That nice message from the establishment
asking patrons to silence their cell phones doesn’t apply to him. He’s way too important.
The “I Know the Actors
Can Hear Me” Talker. This person is
convinced that the people on the screen can actually hear her. She tells the characters what to do, warns them about impending danger, encourages them when she
thinks they’re right, and lets them know when they are wrong.
The Musical
Know-It-All. Tells us with running
commentary, during the softest movements of Mozart, exactly what the woodwind
section is doing. A blow-by-blow
description, as it were.
The Macho Talker. This guy spent fifteen bucks of his
hard-earned money to take his date to the movies. He wants to build on that good
impression. If he’s seen the movie
before, he’ll explain everything to her so she’ll see how smart he is. If he hasn’t seen it, he’ll show off his talent
for detecting which shots involve stuntmen, how every special effect is done,
and where the continuity problems are.
The Drunk
Concertgoer. Regrettably shirtless, he’s always shouting at
the group to play their big hit.
Because, of course, they’re not going to play it unless he tells them
to.
The “Speak to Anyone
But the Almighty” Talkers. If these
people find the sermon uninteresting, or the meditation period too quiet, or
the liturgy too boring, they are more than happy to get caught up on the local
gossip, do some business, or just shoot the breeze. In my own place of worship, I’ve heard it
charitably described as “reverent inattention.”
I admit, I’m unusually sensitive to talkers. It always seems like I’m the guy who has to
give people The Look, to ask them politely to lower their voices, to contact
the usher if they can’t be persuaded any other way. And I understand context is important. I can mix it up at Rocky Horror with the best
of them.
But I still think that talking above a whisper at a concert
or film, quiet conversation at a restaurant, or the rest of the crowd at a
sporting event, is horribly rude.
There’s a social contract we all abide by that assumes other people
matter as much as we do. That’s a good
contract to support.
We also recognize that people attend events specifically to
hear and see something special. Next
time you go to a show, check the name on your ticket stub and see who you’re
paying to entertain you. It’s not going
to be that loudmouth in the fourth row.
So please, the next time you’re sitting by me, don’t yell
out who you think really rocks. There’s
nothing worse than shouting “Earth, Wind and Fire!” in a crowded theater.