I’m a veteran children’s theatre performer, quite familiar with the tradition of audience participation. As Peter Pan, I urged my young viewers to clap their hands to keep Tinkerbell from dying (yeah, it is a little dark). But these were kids, for goodness’ sake!
I expected that adults would be able to watch a show with quiet enjoyment. To my surprise, even years ago, we noticed that some patrons of our dinner theatre performances seemed to forget they were not home watching The Odd Couple on TV. One night I nearly stepped in someone’s plate of cheesecake, deposited on the edge of the stage during Act II.
Of course, there have been a few cult favorites like Rocky Horror Picture Show, where folks dressed up as the movie’s characters, and recited the lines aloud. But mostly, one could attend a movie musical with no danger of one’s seatmate bursting into an off-key rendition of “Seasons of Love.” By and large, audience members left the performing to the professionals, and all was well.
What’s happening? At the movies, grownups act like fidgety five-year-olds. They idly scroll on their phones, they chit chat. Those who pay no attention make sure to destroy the concentration of those of us trying to focus.
Things are not much better on Broadway. Here the financial stakes are much higher. A Hamilton ticket costs almost as much as a dozen eggs! Doesn’t seem to matter, though, even when a superstar like Patti LuPone stops the show to berate a rude patron. The offender looks around, shrugs, then resumes conversing. Inexplicably, there is always a universal standing ovation when the curtain comes down. Good play or dud, the crowd roars like they’re at a football game. This spectacle is less a sign of appreciation, and more an obnoxious lung exercise.
There is a tendency to blame COVID for the sharp decline in public etiquette, but come on—we can’t just keep pinning EVERYTHING on the pandemic, can we? No, I think its likelier that it’s a combo of a shrinking attention span, and a growing sense of entitlement in our culture during the past few decades.
So it was with trepidation that I took Aiden and Peter to see A Minecraft Movie last week. I’d heard some lines might inspire a vocal response. I hoped those moments would be few. Instead, after the prizefight scene (chicken with baby zombie on its back vs. Jason Momoa) (don’t ask), one child took the glad cry of “chicken jockey!” as his cue to keep screaming it for the last 40 minutes of the film. Oh, he had his mom with him, but no attempt was made to shush him. Even as we exited, the cherub kept yelling “chicken jockey!” through the lobby and out the door.
I sincerely hope that kid continued shrieking night and day, for the next week, driving his parents absolutely nuts, and that they finally saw the light.
All’s fair in love, war, and teaching good manners.
