Vic Sautter: Week 3
This week, VIC dreams a dream…that everyone shuts up at the cinema.
Okay, you got me. That was my application column and last week was a busy one. Shoot me, I’m a finalist…no please, shoot me. I hate my life.
But however much I hate my life, I hate people who talk in the cinema more. Or should I say, chuckle? Through a certain musical concerning mass suffering in France. Shepherd Book said it best, these people are going to “the special hell. A place reserved for child molesters, those who talk at the theatre.” So let me get one thing perfectly clear: If you attended the 8:20 showing of Les Mis on Wednesday 23rd January at the Vue in the Grafton, and if you sat in row D, on the left hand side as you walk into the cinema, there is an 85% chance that I hate you.
There are lots of things I don’t get. Homophobia, algebra, the fact that Glee is in its fourth season…but the most incomprehensible thing in the world to me is people who talk in cinemas, or plays, or operas, or ballets (is my middle class showing yet?). Just how could you possibly think that it is an acceptable way to behave? If you want to have a natter with your friend about how dreamy Eddie Redmayne is then google image him and have the conversation in your room. It’s a lot less annoying and you won’t have to see him make the weird faces he does when he sings, which, FYI, aren’t that hilarious. Why pay eight pounds for the privilege of not watching the film and riling me up in the process? How do you not see how bloody annoying that is? Are you sociopathic?
Furthermore, gentleman sitting in the aisle seat, this is a musical. What did you fucking expect? Don’t start laughing every time someone starts singing. Did you not watch the trailers? I don’t care how abruptly Hugh Jackman might come in; it’s not so unbelievably hilarious that you literally cannot contain your laughter every time this happens for a two and a half hour film. What are you, five? Grow up and stay out of films for adults.
It may seem like I’m taking this too seriously, but….. Okay, I’m taking this too seriously. But honestly, I hate these people more than the people who don’t understand that you stand on the right hand side of the escalator. It’s just basic etiquette. Don’t be a douche.
I used to tolerate this stuff. I used to sit quietly and seethe away in the traditional British way, but two years ago I used up my capacity for tolerating bullshit. I am now that person that tells the insensitive, gormless morons to shut the fuck up. You may think that this makes me a bitch now, but when you’re on the receiving end of this kind of idiocy you’ll acknowledge me for the hero I am. Unfortunately, I was stuck two rows behind these nattering twits and even though I shushed loudly and frequently, but of course at moments sensitive to the drama of the film, I went unheeded.
However, if Les Mis teaches us anything, it’s that great suffering and great cruelty can be accompanied by great kindness. So a big shout out and thank you to the very lovely, very beautiful, very awesome, very polite and charming people who gave me a free ticket because they had one going spare for Orange Wednesdays. You are the Jean Valjeans of this world, but I wish you a happier life than him.
The rest of you? Go die on a barricade.