Student Blog: What Happened to Theater Etiquette?

In this writer’s humble opinion, there is something undeniably magical about the social contract that theatrical precedent has set for us all. Members of an audience— ranging in size anywhere between five and five thousand— all should know that buying a ticket means they have entered an unspoken agreement. They are bound by it to not only invest themselves as fully as possible in the event, but to allow others to do the same. Yet in my experience, there have been far too many incidents where the latter half ends up being violated and I cannot understand why for the life of me. 

I am fortunate to have an annual voyage from California to New York City and see a handful of shows, and since this is a once-a-year treat, I take it rather seriously. Imagine my horror in the Schoenfeld Theater’s center mezzanine at the chameleonically thrilling Life of Pi when the guy sitting right in front of me started texting someone in the middle of act two. While Pi was fighting for her life in the middle of the ocean, this jerk was fighting to stay awake, and took it upon himself to notify everyone by keeping his screen brightness up. It makes zero sense to me why someone would purchase a ticket to a Broadway show just to refuse to engage with the actors’ and designers’ work while drawing that kind of attention to yourself. A show that's staged as imaginatively as this one should never be interrupted like that. 

It has become especially challenging to coexist with these sorts of people at the movies as well. Earlier this month, I made the trek to my nearest IMAX to bear witness to Interstellar (at which I cried seven times) among a sold-out crowd, the likes of which I haven’t seen at a movie theater since the last Avengers in 2019. But in the corner of my left eye, I kept seeing a glowing blue rectangle popping out every thirty minutes or so. I chose to ignore it as best I could. That is, until the climactic scene with Cooper behind the bookcase, when the guy received a phone call with his ringer at maximum volume. If that were me, I would be absolutely mortified, but he visibly could not have cared less. When the credits rolled, the person on my right started telling him off, so I joined in. I said, “if you seriously can’t help yourself from using your phone for three hours, stay home. Stop going to movie theaters.” He retorted without making eye contact, “go write a tweet about it.” I did that and a little more, as you can tell. 

If I may get up on my soapbox, I think that the pandemic and the rise of streaming might have a hand in this. Sure, people being on their phones at the theater is not a brand-new problem. How else would every show at every level have a preceding message asking the audience to turn them off and keep them stowed? Being away from the theater for so long could have loosened people’s attitudes. Sitting on the couch with a movie on your favorite streaming service was the bulk of many people’s engagement time with art during this period. It can be easy to forget the proceedings of doing so in a shared space. Taking your phone out in the middle of a movie in your living room is your business, but conspicuously texting in a crowded theater becomes everyone’s business. 

Taking a seat in an audience carries responsibility. You assume a duty to preserve the magic of the theater for those around you, just as you would want others to do unto you. The sooner people re-learn this fact, the better— late than never— for all of us.