(no subject)
Catherine Deneuve and Gerard Depardieu were starring in Potiche. How can you pass up an opportunity to go see a Catherine Deneuve movie? Seriously?! In truth, it was a spur-of-the-moment decision as I was walking by the Shattuck Theatre, after seeing Super at the Californian Theatre - which I apparently liked much more than moroccomole did. . . my reaction was more like the guys at Pajiba.
Anyway. . .
I sit in my comfy seat and start to watch the wonderful, funny Potiche, and of course there are people talking in the row behind me. "Badaboum!" says one of them helpfully, as a character in the movie just finishes saying the same thing. And so on, randomly through the movie. I'm at a stage in my life where I no longer confront people in the movie theaters (I have gotten into shouting matches with people). At the first sign of moronic behavior, I'm off to tell an usher. (Bah! who am I kidding? They no longer have ushers at theaters. I just tell someone at the popcorn stand.) He comes in and sits down to make sure that they are talking. And sure enough they are and he politely asks them to stuff a sock in it.
At least I think that's what he does. I'd already moved to a seat further away from them.
On my way out, there they were talking with the manager. And I heard this actual statement, "We were not talking more than an acceptable amount."
Here's a newsflash, unless you're at the Rocky Horror Picture Show or some midnight movie or a Shyamalan POS, the acceptable amount of talking is not talking at all! Let me be clear on this, I did not pay money to hear two idiots chattering away in a theater. I came to see Catherine Deneuve and Gerard Depardieu be awesome! Be like a parrot in a cage: when the lights go out, you go quiet.
I walked by them on my way to the toilet. I could have said something, but then the manager, who looked like he was about to cry, would have had to deal with them arguing with me and so on and he would have probably gone and gotten a gun and shot everyone in a murder-suicide spree. And even if I did, it would have changed nothing as their parents didn't raise them right.
The moral of this story? People suck.
Anyway. . .
I sit in my comfy seat and start to watch the wonderful, funny Potiche, and of course there are people talking in the row behind me. "Badaboum!" says one of them helpfully, as a character in the movie just finishes saying the same thing. And so on, randomly through the movie. I'm at a stage in my life where I no longer confront people in the movie theaters (I have gotten into shouting matches with people). At the first sign of moronic behavior, I'm off to tell an usher. (Bah! who am I kidding? They no longer have ushers at theaters. I just tell someone at the popcorn stand.) He comes in and sits down to make sure that they are talking. And sure enough they are and he politely asks them to stuff a sock in it.
At least I think that's what he does. I'd already moved to a seat further away from them.
On my way out, there they were talking with the manager. And I heard this actual statement, "We were not talking more than an acceptable amount."
Here's a newsflash, unless you're at the Rocky Horror Picture Show or some midnight movie or a Shyamalan POS, the acceptable amount of talking is not talking at all! Let me be clear on this, I did not pay money to hear two idiots chattering away in a theater. I came to see Catherine Deneuve and Gerard Depardieu be awesome! Be like a parrot in a cage: when the lights go out, you go quiet.
I walked by them on my way to the toilet. I could have said something, but then the manager, who looked like he was about to cry, would have had to deal with them arguing with me and so on and he would have probably gone and gotten a gun and shot everyone in a murder-suicide spree. And even if I did, it would have changed nothing as their parents didn't raise them right.
The moral of this story? People suck.