Sunday, October 17, 1999
Tell that lunkhead to button it, then demand a refund
BY MARGARET A. MCGURK
The Cincinnati Enquirer
Here's a mental exercise for you movie-going regulars: You're in a restaurant, ready to enjoy a pleasant repast. Another customer walks by and spills your root beer on the floor.
Would you say something to that person? “Hey, don't do that,” maybe?
Say the same customer comes back and turns your salad bowl upside down.
Would you complain to the manager?
Then imagine the same guy wanders by one more time and flicks ashes on your pizza. Then he walks away laughing.
Would you pay for that meal?
I didn't think so.
So tell me, why in the name of holy commerce should you sit quietly and let other customers steal movies from you?
That happens every time you pa tronize a theater infested with blathering, loud-mouthed, no-class clods who can't keep their yaps shut for the duration of a Gap ad, much less a feature film.
They may be old, young, male, female, black, white or none of the above. The one thing they have in common is some weird psychosis that requires them to destroy good movies by squawking, jabbering, bleating and blathering.
Why do they do it? Because they can.
Far too many patrons sit and seethe silently rather than ask the blabbermouths to put a cork in it. Of course, people rude enough to talk out loud during a movie are rarely sensitive enough to comply when asked to cut it out.
That, theoretically, is when theater management should step in. Personally, I don't see why theaters won't install soundproof Plexiglass cages for the I'm Talking And I Can't Shut Up Club. But they won't, any more than they will put a lid on the louts.
I have never once seen anyone ejected from any theater for bad behavior. Not yelling, cursing, walking over seats, pointing lasers at the screen, throwing food, threatening other customers — nothing short of a felony apparently can draw the attention of an usher.
Twice it has gotten so bad I have left a movie in progress to ask someone to remove disruptive clients. No such luck. In both cases, theater staff only spoke to the miscreants, apparently to tell them, “Go on, you can do worse than that! Let's see you get really obnoxious once I walk out of this theater.”
Every movie fan has horror stories to share. The wonder is that anyone goes back. Nothing like a miserable evening spent within earshot of some yack-happy yahoo can drive ticket-buyers away forever.
But walking away is the wrong answer. Why should you give up a favorite activity because someone else is a jerk? I say it's time for theater customers to get what they pay for.
Don't put up with thoughtless gum-slappers. Tell them to be quiet. A quick “Sssh” should be enough. If it's not, everyone around the yappers should join in with a chorus of “Ssssh's.” You, the respectable movie fan, are in the majority. So act like it. The boors should be the ones who feel uncomfortable.
You pay plenty to see movies in a proper theater. You also plump up exhibitors' profits with exorbitant prices for a cup of sugar water and a handful of grain. Any old night at the movies can easily run $25 per couple. Add a few extras, bring a friend, hire a baby sitter and you're out $100 in a heartbeat.
When you spend that kind of money, you should do so with the expectation that you will get a pleasant experience. That means a decent print, competent projection, good sound, clean restrooms and a civilized environment.
If a theater fails to uphold the peace, you are literally robbed of the service you thought you were buying. When that happens, you deserve to get your money back.
Don't accept a cut-rate experience at premium prices. When your evening is destroyed by some mouth-almighty-tongue-everlasting lunkhead, stand up, walk out, go to the cashier, describe exactly what happened and ask for your money back.
If every person whose enjoyment of a movie is ruined by unruly patrons were to insist on a refund — not a raincheck — I suspect exhibitors would find it in their best interest to pay at least as much attention to theater decorum as they do to keeping out unauthorized snacks.
Margaret A. McGurk is Enquirer film critic. Write her at 312 Elm St. Cincinnati 45202; fax to (513) 768-8330; e-mail to mmcgurk@enquirer.com.
