FILM ME IN

Why we don’t walk out of the cinema anymore.

I recently read a book of compiled letters written by Groucho Marx, a well-worn, yellow paged gem that’s no doubt out of print which I happened upon in a second hand book store. The dude had refined taste and high standards when it came to entertainment and he had no problem voicing his specific grievances often to the key players and writers themselves. What he thought of his own films has been well documented as he would be the first to ridicule himself, his brothers and anyone else involved, compete with that razor wit, and if he weren’t a member of the famous family comedy group then I am led to believe that he wouldn’t have been a fan. For instance it’s been reported that after a table reading for quite possibly the Marx Brothers most notable film Duck Soup, the four brothers stood up and Groucho exclaimed something to the effect of ‘It’s terrible. We’ll do it!’ But I noticed within these letters something else that was repeated more than once when it came to watching films at the theatre that I thought seemed rather odd by today’s standards. I get the distinct impression when understanding cinema-going throughout the last century that without a hint of hesitation, patrons would just up and leave during the screening without any regard, consideration or more importantly, an inkling as to how the climax would play out regardless of the time they had just invested. Did audiences gradually develop an appreciation for the film they had chosen and remain seated throughout the entire duration or was this habit of walking out a commonly accepted or merely insignificant act? What further surprised me was that Groucho would often leave before the end despite whether he hated or thoroughly enjoyed the film and I can’t help but feel he wasn’t alone and that such behaviour was perceived as completely normal.

I remember my mum telling me that back in her day you would pay the price of admission, from there the double features plus news reels would play on a continuous loop so you could always play catch up from where you left off depending on your point of entry. However even the idea of watching a film out of sequence seems absurd but I get the distinct impression people would go to the cinema as long as it suited them then casually head off to other planned events or regular engagements like arriving home in time for dinner without any prior consideration for the possibility of a clash of agendas. If this was the case then were the filmmakers generally insulted after connecting so many dots to ensure their films were seen as intended just to have audiences casually come and go disallowing any solid connection to the many cinematic art forms being presented? Obviously the film industry prevailed so someone was paying attention but audience behaviour from another era before any firm rules were accepted is rather fascinating.

I still find it bizarre that Alfred Hitchcock had to make a disclaimer to film-goers attending screenings of Psycho that if you didn’t arrive before the curtain was drawn then you would not be admitted until the next session. This was due to the protagonist being killed off in the first half of the film unbeknownst to the audience who were to effectively encounter such a jaw-dropping twist and I guess to avoid confusion to extremely late-comers expecting to see the main star Janet Leigh. Psycho came out at the dawn of the 60s, cinema wasn’t exactly a recent phenomenon, in fact it had been almost sixty years since The Great Train Robbery adorned the world with a film plot and yet it seems people were still prone to arriving whenever the hell they felt like it. I grapple equally with the lack of respect and the compromising of fulfilment when not seeing a film in whole. My romanticised version of films from the silent era through to Hitchcock’s drawing-a-line-in-the-sand moment, is that a trip to the cinema was a rowdy affair, on par with a bar brawl or a decadent night in Vegas. Rather than checking facts I’ll just assume Cinema Paradiso and to a lesser extent Inglorious Basterds got it right in that their portrayal of the theatre as a place where any and all disruptions were permitted and if you didn’t like what you saw then carnage reigned supreme as you catapulted your cigar or glass beverage full pelt against the screen.

What a sight the silent era must have looked like without the blanket of sound to hide your protests and vocal indifferences. Especially once films hit their stride they jumped in duration from an average of ten minutes to an almost mandatory two and a half plus hours. The celebrated German master Eric Von Stroheim would butt heads with American studio execs because he wasn’t able to present his nine hour features and felt they had been butchered when reduced to three and a half hours. I’m still unsure as to who I side with. Look at some of the biggest pictures and financial successes pre-sound – Birth Of A Nation, The Thief Of Bagdad, Metropolis, King Of Kings, in terms of length these were no walk in the park, each clocking in at over two and a half hours. I can’t help but wonder, were people giving these films their undivided attention or were they destroying everything in sight for as long as they pleased then leaving well in advance of the conclusion for other, more worthy commitments?

It all got me thinking about how personally I have never walked out of a cinema no matter how bad the film, and sure, I’ve burst in at the eleventh hour – you still often see people shuffling in, blindly reaching for a seat after the lights have dimmed late but only by a matter of minutes. These days I have a dedicated room in the house for watching films so upon entering the room I mean business and I’m committed to seeing the film right through and in one sitting. Armed with coffee as I disarm the iPhone I’m dedicated to whatever number I’ve selected until the end irrespective of whether the film turns out to be a dud, a dull experience or even the equivalent of visual and mental torture not to mention a clear waste of precious weekend time – I’ll simply put it down as a bad one and succumb. On the other hand if it’s a surprise gem or a long anticipated attraction that delivers the goods, then the overwhelming force brightens the day in a single moment as the end credits roll.

I started to wonder if perhaps I should have walked out of the cinema at least once just to say I did it although even if the movie stinks I find people are generally more inclined to find other means of unruly pleasure – nod off, stealthily (or openly) remove the phone from their pockets, make out, or engage in conversation rather than make the ultimate statement by leaving. It’s even the little factors that keep us bound to our seats –the privilege of the time provided in the cinema and of course that choc top / popcorn duo didn’t come cheap and even in a mega-combo pack you still could almost justify asking if they do lay-buy. As the eternal film fan I don’t necessarily critique films, I’m not overly harsh, if there was plot holes or flaws I might discuss them afterwards but I prefer to find the good in most films I see in the cinema purely since I’m overjoyed just to be there. Besides, you have to admire a filmmaker’s tenacity, perseverance and endurance just to get anything in the can at all, let alone onto a screen. For instance in the documentary and James Toback / Alec Baldwin vehicle Seduced And Abandoned, we learn that the creative process accounts for very little, and that a background in sales seems more mandatory than art, as these two film lovers strive to get their film idea financed at The Cannes Film Festival. It’s about selling an idea and a bankable star to a rich mogul or oil tycoon to ensure your vision is realised, rather than penning a great script then simply stepping behind the camera.

I was eleven years old and it was my sister’s birthday the first time I confessed not to liking a movie. We were treated to the film adaptation of the television classic The Addams Family. Now recent history has proven how misguided a move this adaptation from a TV favourite can be – from The A-Team to Dark Shadows to that absurd take on Bewitched, the film was always likely to be disastrous but as an avid fan of both The Addams Family and even more-so The Munsters, even though both shows originally aired well before my time, these sitcoms of the macabre certainly captured my imagination and therefore this was going to be the year’s highlight as far as film anticipation went. Upon leaving I felt a strange sensation, I was in a habitat poised for a good time as my brief cinema-going history had affirmed, I had whatever sugar and salty requirements essential for the experience and yet I felt nothing for the film itself which to this day I still have very little recollection of actually seeing. I was riddled with guilt, how dare I be treated to such a favoured past time, a siblings birthday no less and walk away feeling such nonchalance. Mum was there to retrieve us afterwards and upon receiving confirmation from my sister and company that they did enjoy the film, she sought my summary and with a meld of turmoil and embarrassment I mumbled something that clearly admitted displeasure. At the time I didn’t realise that there were no implications for not liking a film and mum smiled and said ‘you didn’t like it’ as if to suggest it was OK, but I had trouble shaking the burden and guilt.

The next time I can remember such clear and equal indifference was when I was about twenty-two. My friend Peta and I went to see an Australian film called Trojan Warrior (IMDB rating 3.3 FYI). We were on a bit of a Chopper Read trip after loving Eric Bana’s portrayal in the 2000 film Chopper and all the television commercials for this film heavily mentioned that Chopper himself was acting (his character’s name is Erik Bana). Well Chopper stared in the film for no less than one scene and we were bored stiff. It was also one of the only times I saw people leave the cinema. It was clear to me and Peta that they weren’t just using the facilities with intentions to return but that the real piss was in the poor plot, and yet we compliantly sat there and persisted in a state of sheer boredom.

I believe my wife came close to leaving the cinema during the famed parapsychologists ghost story The Conjuring and this is an entirely different type of walk out, not one of disgust or the realisation that you double-booked your time but one of a lack of endurance. Also not in the extreme that people fainted and left with vomit protruding from their mouths when The Exorcist was first released, but more that it’s something that is withstood should you choose to withstand the boo-type scares. Author Chuck Palahniuk’s book tour to promote a collection of short stories set a record for people fainting. He read his story entitled Guts, where a character’s guts are accidentally vacuumed out whilst in a pool. A story of which when read by the author caused people to faint, and it’s a tough scenario, you’re there to support the author but you can’t stop the author from continuing as you would when reading it yourself. In a similar sense and as my wife reiterated, at least at home you can always hit the pause button and claim you need to ‘use the toilet’ to give your beating heart a break as opposed to remaining bound to the seat, but alas she persevered in the face of ghostly adversity.

I can’t say the same for myself as the closest I’ve come to actually leaving the cinema was mentally, I just packed up my brain and took it elsewhere. With all due respect to my wife’s decision for she claimed that the best-selling paperback One For The Money was ‘good’ therefore if the source was endeared by the masses then surely the film adaptation would be worth our while. I decided not to bear with the convoluted plot somewhere early on and ended my confusion of this romance / action / thriller / whatever, allowing my concentration a free pass to drift away. There’s worse places to be than the cinema after all, so I stared blankly at the screen and started compiling my top ten albums that I would take with me to a desert island. Beyond my satisfaction with the well comprised album list I then tried to name ten films starring the film’s star Kathrine Heigl, without the use of the internet of course, and when it was over I sheepishly explained to my wife that I mentally checked out to which she thankfully and completely understood.

I think it’s safe to say at this point in time I may never actually walk out of a cinema for feelings of disenchantment of the film before me, we’re too savvy with our choices these days with endless reviews, ratings and pedigree you can estimate a good time before you buy the ticket. Unfortunately we never turned the camera on the audience in the days when people were happy to sit and watch whatever was playing with little background knowledge other than the charm of a film poster. Those first projected images of a grainy train coming into a station at the turn of the century sent its viewers into a fearful frenzy, but as people warmed to this screen of moving pictures I can only yearn to catch a glimpse of their physical disappointment or shock as reviews were made verbally and openly throughout the main attraction. I want to see the outrage during a Douglas Fairbanks or Mary Pickford number that simply didn’t cut the mustard or the reaction of the shower scene as people finally ascertained why they had to arrive on time. Images like these I could argue would be far more entertaining than the films themselves.