Reader, I kicked him.
One of the most unforgivable things you can do in a movie theatre (and there are many such things) is to use the back of the seat in front of you as a footrest, especially if you are the sort who uses your feet to express emotion. I will tell you two stories featuring this grievous error, and then a third.
I had gone to see Kiss Me, Guido, a gay version of The Odd Couple with "Felix" being a gay actor who needs a roommate and "Oscar" a straight Italian who needs a room. I didn't find it terribly funny, but perhaps this was because every time the audience laughed I felt a dreadful pummelling against my back. It served as a form of Pavlovian conditioning - I did not have the slightest urge to laugh after the first few times. A more confrontational sort of person would have turned around after the second or third bout and let the boor have it, verbally. Sadly, I am not that sort of person, and as there were no empty seats in the theatre, I endured this assault for the length of the movie, simmering with rage. As the credits were rolling, I turned around, hoping to catch a glimpse of my assailant, and maybe give him a Hard Look which he could not misunderstand. I had envisioned him as a pimply eighteen or nineteen years old. Not so, he was a bearded forty going on fifty-three. WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU? I thought; but did not say. (Remember - not confrontational.)
One of the most unforgivable things you can do in a movie theatre (and there are many such things) is to use the back of the seat in front of you as a footrest, especially if you are the sort who uses your feet to express emotion. I will tell you two stories featuring this grievous error, and then a third.
I had gone to see Kiss Me, Guido, a gay version of The Odd Couple with "Felix" being a gay actor who needs a roommate and "Oscar" a straight Italian who needs a room. I didn't find it terribly funny, but perhaps this was because every time the audience laughed I felt a dreadful pummelling against my back. It served as a form of Pavlovian conditioning - I did not have the slightest urge to laugh after the first few times. A more confrontational sort of person would have turned around after the second or third bout and let the boor have it, verbally. Sadly, I am not that sort of person, and as there were no empty seats in the theatre, I endured this assault for the length of the movie, simmering with rage. As the credits were rolling, I turned around, hoping to catch a glimpse of my assailant, and maybe give him a Hard Look which he could not misunderstand. I had envisioned him as a pimply eighteen or nineteen years old. Not so, he was a bearded forty going on fifty-three. WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU? I thought; but did not say. (Remember - not confrontational.)
On another occasion I had gone to play by Carol Shields, called Thirteen Hands. This was about a group of women whose entire social life (independent of their husbands) was playing bridge every Tuesday night for years. But still, their lives were just as rich and meaningful as anyone else's, don't you know? This was one of those plays that brings out my innermost peevishness. I disliked the fact that the play jumped back and forth in time with the same actors playing different roles. Who are they supposed to be now? I disliked the fact that the actors had decided to treat this dreary pap as a comedy by milking the most modest of Ms. Shield's wryly witty lines as if they were performing Wayne & Schuster at their most guffaw-inducing (which would be circa 1958). (Too many Canadian actors appear to have attended the W&S School of Shameless Mugging.) But I especially disliked the fact that the rest of the audience appeared to be enjoying themselves immensely.
Especially this one man, one row and a few seats away from me. He found Ms. Shields' work to be a laugh-riot, and yes, as you've guessed, he was a seat-kicker. The woman whose seat he was kicking had more gumption than I would have had and turned around and let him have it. I felt vindicated. Though I still hated the play.
Which brings me to this. The other week, I'd gone to see Wall-E, the day after it opened. You who have seen this latest gem from Pixar know that there is a touching moment towards the end of it that requires absolute silence on the part of the audience (except for the occasional sniffle) in order to be fully appreciated. Absolute silence! Not, as in this case, punctuated by an obstrusive cellphone ring. It was coming from the seat immediately in front of me.
At first, I thought this was actually a sound effect from the movie. Then the truth dawned on me. Please shut it off! I, and (I am confident), virtually all of the rest of the audience were thinking. But no, he ANSWERED it! Worse, he began to conduct a CONVERSATION! Worse, he was with someone, who was not shushing him or otherwise attempting to stop him!
I thought, What can I do to get him to shut up? I could kick the back of his seat until he stops. But no - that would be low. I must be civilized. I must not descend to his level.
However, the conversation continued. So, I abandoned all my scrupulous moral principles and gave him one solid kick -
He got the point - almost. He stood up, walked away, and continued his conversation in the aisle. What's the use? I sigh.
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