The movie theater is an odd, unique place if you think about it, a remnant of a bygone era. Not just in the way they get us out of our house to take in a form of entertainment that could be readily consumed in the privacy and comfort of our own abode, but in the way that they are one of the last places where we willingly and voluntarily rest so much of our enjoyment upon the social courtesy of those around us. In the words of Scarlett O’Hara, it’s a matter of relying “upon the kindness of strangers.”
At a Badger football game, or any sporting even for that matter, a rowdy fan bellowing his support is rarely considered a nuisance and usually seen as contributing to the passionate game-day atmosphere. Even fans around you in the stands talking to each other about biology class TAs, post-game party plans or really any subjects other than the contest at hand, are hardly considered rude or disruptive. And attendees tapping out texts on their cell phones probably aren’t even considered anything at all—who would notice such a subtle act under the blazing afternoon sun and amidst the roar of the arena. But in the dark tranquility of the movie theater these actions take on completely different consequences and perceptions.
In his quintessential work “Leviathan” political philosopher Thomas Hobbes set out his concept of the social contract between humans that serves as the bedrock for society. The general idea is that humans all tacitly agree, or have been born into the agreement, to give away some of our freedoms in order to rise out of the unpleasant state of nature and gain some sense of comfort, peace and safety. And the movie theater is the perfect manifestation of just such a modern day social contract. When you walk into a theater you are agreeing to act a certain way and refrain from certain behaviors—in other words, to give up some of your freedoms—with the unspoken agreement that everyone else will do the same, for the utilitarian goal of maximizing everyone’s enjoyment of the film. But it turns out that when Baby Boomers and Gen Xers and Millennials intermingle in these darkened melting pots, they are all bringing with them different versions of just what our movie theater social contract should be.
At CinemaCon in Las Vegas last week, a panel of theater chain executives spoke about their business and touched on an interesting topic, one that they did not all agree on: cellphones. Amy Miles, CEO of the Regal theater chain, said her company is “trying to figure out if there’s something you can offer in the theater that I would not find appealing but my 18-year-old son might.” And by that she means openly condoning texting, web surfing, and otherwise engaging with your cell phone rather than with the movie on screen. Greg Foster of IMAX related, saying his teenage son “constantly has his phone with him.” He continued, “We want them to pay $12 to $14 to come into an auditorium and watch a movie. But they’ve become accustomed to controlling their own existence.” Foster concluded that strictly enforcing a ban on cell phone use may make kids “feel a little handcuffed.” The implication here being that if kids feel at all restricted by a trip to the movies, they simply won’t come.
But perhaps that’s just because they don’t understand the functioning of the movie theater social contract, or maybe they haven’t experienced the benefits it does offer.
Thankfully there remains at least one guardian bent on keeping the noise and light from cell phones out of the movies—the Alamo Drafthouse. The theater chain, centered in Austin, would best be described as outright militant against cellphone usage along with any other uncouth distraction. Before each movie they play one of at least two dozen humorous, but quite serious, warnings against texting or talking, almost all of which include the phrase “or we’ll throw your ass out.” And they are not kidding. Several of their PSAs feature recorded phone calls with real (and unbelievably self-entitled and obnoxious) patrons who have called to complain about being ejected from the theater for various crimes against the cinematic space. And let me tell you, having visited these theaters at least a dozen times during my tenure at the South By Southwest Film Festival this year, I have never experienced better movie theater audiences anywhere.
At the panel, Tim League of Alamo Drafthouse responded to the musings of his peers by proclaiming, “Over my dead body will I introduce texting into the movie theater. I love the idea of playing around with a new concept. But that is the scourge of our industry… It’s our job to understand that this is a sacred space and we have to teach manners.” And I guess that’s true. If neither their parents nor their peers are willing to teach kids how to respect the movie theater—both the work of art being performed before them and patrons around them—then it might as well fall to the movie theaters.
While the fear of alienating swaths of texting-addicted teens with $14 burning holes in their pockets may tantalize theater chains into caving and putting up with such distractions, they will only be digging their own grave as serious fans starting getting fed up and such teens realize they aren’t actually watching the movie anyway and everyone stops showing up.
R U like “OMG I cn’t watch a movie w/o txting”? E-mail David at dcottrell@wisc.edu.
