The No Longer Unwritten Rules of Social Movie-Watching

Friday afternoon, I found myself at a friend’s house, re-watching Coraline. The first time I saw it, I’d gone to the movies with my parents and little brother. Cringing, I’d accepted the 3-D glasses, knowing I was in for a slightly painful experience. I’ve never been a fan of 3-D technology (it never seems to work quite right–maybe it’s my astigmatism), and I knew that having lost a contact lens in the car on the way to the theater couldn’t help. I liked the movie: the animation, sound, and editing added up to a dark, imaginative atmosphere, and the story-telling was clever, conflict-rich, and–a true triumph for anything related to the horror genre–not derivative in the least. Sadly, I spent the whole movie alternating between wearing glasses that made me dizzy and watching a blurry screen with one eye closed.  Being, in my estimation, a movie that relies heavily on the viewer’s sense of atmosphere, I’d been looking forward to watching “Coraline” on DVD, to give it a chance to really shine in the absence of my own myopic crises.

I wasn’t disappointed. The artwork spoke much more subtly and interestingly, though there were a few annoying shots which were obviously designed only to show off the 3-D imaging (needles poking straight at the screen, items plunging directly at the “lens,” etc.). I even bumped the movie up two spots to #5 for the year. Still, I’m not sure I’ve had a real chance to grasp the full feeling the movie inspires, not because of visual barriers, but because of a different, though equally sinister interloper: my friend’s new roommate.

This girl (we’ll call her “Joann,” because that’s her name) is a fine person, I’m sure. In our few opportunities to interact in the weeks since she moved in, I’ve found no reasons to dislike her. She seems kind and generally fun to be around. After Friday, though, one other thing is clear. Joann has no understanding of the rules of movie-watching, nor any intuitive, empathetic ability to sense when she is causing others pain. As soon as the credits rolled and Joann left the room, the collective, relieved exhalation was audible, and that’s when I knew something had to be done, as much for Joann’s sake as for ours.

So, Joann, if you’re reading this, know that I say these things out of love, both love for movies and for humanity in general. Here are a few rules that, if followed, will make your movie-watching persona match with the other lovable characteristics you seem to have mastered. Once and for all, here are the rules of social movie-watching, listed in ascending order of offense prevented. Master them, and I promise I will never again fantasize about smothering you with couch pillows.

1. Talking, if audible, must be more interesting than the obscured cinematic material, and must be interesting to all affected parties.

There are those who would completely outlaw talking during movies. These people should watch movies alone. Still, few things have as high a capacity for annoyance as superfluous movie-talking. How do you know what should be said and what should be stifled? It’s mostly an intuitive filter, but the above rule works 99% of the time. Here are a few additional guidelines:

ALWAYS ACCEPTABLE:

• Emergency notifications: “Joe–I just remembered that I’m supposed to tell you that your mom’s dead.”
• Making fun of Sarah Jessica Parker, whether or not she is currently on screen.

NEVER ACCEPTABLE:

• Pointless, bland commentaries (i.e. “This movie sucks.” or “This movie is weird.”), especially if negative or repeated.
• One-on-one conversations audible to others. Text each other, if you must.

CONTEXT DEPENDENT:

• Jokes are acceptable, as long as they are hilarious, brief (preferably one-liners), and movie-related. Anything else had better be really funny. Always acceptable: “That’s what she said.”
• Sharing your trivial knowledge with others (i.e. “that camera angle is obviously an homage to John Huston”) is allowed, as long as everyone else is at least as big a douche as you are.

2. Questions and other excessive interruptions must be important enough to warrant the use of your DVD player’s “pause” function. If interrupting is absolutely necessary, use that button.

Pausing a movie is annoying, but it is much less annoying than trying to field questions and pay attention to a movie at the same time. This also helps filter out the dumb questions. Most people know better than to pause “Fargo” to ask “Is that the guy from Lost?”

PAUSE-WORTHY QUESTIONS:

• “What kind of pizza should I order?”
• “What other movie is she/he in?” (provided that the actor is sufficiently obscure and trying to figure it out is causing you physical pain)
• “What did he/she say?” (provided that the line seems essential to understanding the movie and it comes at a highly pausable moment, like the end of a non-climactic scene)
• “Wait, what the hell just happened?” (provided that you preface the question by first acknowledging that you’re a moron)

NOT PAUSE-WORTHY:

• “How was your day?”
• Any plot-related questions in the first half-hour. This is my personal pet-peeve. A movie will start in media res, and the second the main characters appear, someone will ask, “Wait, are they married or something?” or “What’s in that bag?” I think we can all rest assured that the director will find it necessary to eventually let us know whether the main characters are married or not. If you don’t know what’s in the bag, odds are no one does, and if it matters, we’ll probably all find out together. Exercise patience and let the filmmaker give you information when she wants you to have it.

3. Absolutely no interruptions during any possibly climactic moment.

If your phone rings during a movie, you have three options. To answer and have a conversation, loudly so as to be heard above the sound of the movie, is not one of them. Option #1 (answering it and hanging up quickly with a “watching a movie–I’ll call you back”) is no longer available during a high-tension moment. The pause button is also off-limits in these situations. The remaining two options are: silence it and don’t answer it; or. silence it, leave the room, answer it, have your conversation, come back, take your seat, and try to catch up without asking any questions.

Some people seem to struggle to identify climaxes in story-structure. These people, if they insist on watching movies, probably don’t get much out of it anyway, and should leave the room anytime their phones ring. They are also probably poor lovers.

4. Do not give voice to your inner detective.

People react differently to suspense or mystery. Many people feel a strong compulsion to solve the mystery before the answer is revealed–Encyclopedia Brown style. That’s cool, and although I prefer to take things as they come, I understand why someone might feel this way. The problem arises when your hypotheses and astute mental workings start escaping through your mouth. Before you decide to vocally guess whodunnit or how the plot’s going to twist, let’s use a little logic to examine the possible consequences.

- When you make this sort of guess you are either (A) wrong or (B) right.

A) If you’re wrong, you look stupid.

B) If you’re right, everyone hates you for ruining the movie.

I don’t care if you’re Hercule Poirot. There’s no way around these two outcomes. So the next time you think the main character’s actually a ghost or his friend is just inside his head, keep it to yourself.

5. If you are not an originally-invited member of the movie party, feel free to join us. Just don’t assume you have any rights.

This includes your right to complain, your snacking rights, and your license to pause.

That’s all I can think of now. Anyone have any rules to add/remove/modify? Sound off in the comments. We also need to come up with some suitable, compassionate, yet sufficiently crippling, punishment for violations. Maybe something involving sofa pillows?

UPDATE: I’m watching State of Play with my family, and it’s helped make it clear that these rules (especially #3) don’t really apply when you’re watching a sucky movie. There is nothing wrong with interrupting this movie’s “climax” to point out that you liked this movie better the first time they made it, in 1993, when Russell Crowe was still black.