This weekend I took a break from painting Warhammer and went to the BFI to watch Christopher Nolan's latest film, The Odyssey. As I walked through the slightly urine-scented tunnels connecting the South Bank to Europe's best IMAX screen, I felt uneasy. It wasn't the thought of Matt Damon fighting a weeping one-eyed monster or the smell of wee that bothered me, but the idea of a large crowd watching a film together.
Cinema-Going Anxiety
I love movies and have built a career on having inane opinions about them, but the cinema experience isn't always what I want. As I sat down, a shiver of anxiety went through me when I saw the man next to me. In his greasy hands was a box of the most nefarious and pungent substance: popcorn.
There's nothing wrong with popcorn in theory—if you like sweet and salty polystyrene, that's fine—but it's not popcorn I have a problem with; it's eating in the cinema in general. I believe if you want to eat, go to a restaurant, pub, or the pavement outside Greggs, not the pictures. I don't care that they sell it; I don't want to hear about concession profits, and don't get me started on places that bring loaded fries or pizza to your seat.
No Food Near the Screen
Food has no place within 100 feet of a silver screen. When I say food, I mean all of it—popcorn, crisps, nachos, hot dogs, chicken tenders, ice cream, and any fried or sugary delights behind the counter. If it's edible, it makes noise, smells, and distracts from the movie.
Friends and coworkers argue they can be trusted with food. They can't. They merely believe they eat quietly. I'll concede some people are respectful, but to paraphrase Ben Affleck in that dreadful Batman vs Superman film, if there's a 1% chance of my film experience being ruined, I don't want to risk it.
Barbaric Cinema Behavior
I believe most people are brutish barbarians who chomp, rustle, and slurp through blockbusters and indie darlings. If I had a pound for every time I heard someone failing to put crisps in their mouth, I'd have £14. That's not a lot—could barely buy a cinema ticket—but it's 14 times more than I want to hear someone chomping on steak McCoys.
Even press colleagues are poorly behaved. At a press screening, I complained about hacks eating. A colleague told me to get a grip. But when the film reached its climax, all we heard was someone wrestling a bag of popcorn. No shame, no embarrassment, no worry about ruining the film for others.
Cinema Etiquette Violated
My grievance with food at the cinema is that it goes against cinema etiquette. We're all there to watch the film, not listen to someone guzzle chicken tenders with honey mustard. A trip to the pictures is expensive, and it's rude to spoil someone else's experience by crunching through nachos or munching Minstrels in the third act. Making noise is as bad as scrolling Instagram or texting.
Back at the BFI IMAX, the man with the popcorn turned out to be a gentleman who finished his starchy treat before the first trailer. I salute you, random popcorn snaffler—Odysseus wasn't the only hero I saw that day.
