Cinema etiquette is dead - and these are the behaviours that killed it

I, like many others, have rediscovered the simple pleasure of catching an after-dinner movie – but my latest outing has exposed a not-so-silent epidemic rife among fellow cinephiles. Once-dormant cinemas now hum with crowds exceeding pre-pandemic levels, but it seems the collective, unspoken understanding of how the hell to act at the movies has since fallen to the wayside. Allow me to pose a question: is it everyone’s first day on planet earth? Amidst the growing dominance of streaming culture, it appears the slow erosion of cinema etiquette has finally come to a head.

While half of us have become overly comfortable replicating at-home behaviours in public spaces – the other half hesitate to correct these behaviours for fear of a Karen-issue confrontation. “As a society we have slipped into the casual zone,” etiquette expert Zarife Hardy told nine.com.au. “I do support that life isn’t about stiff formalities. However, people are treating public places like the theatre, an aircraft and public transport like their lounge room.” The cinema used to be sacred, did it not? It was an alternate reality where time itself suspended, and for a feature-length period you’d sit down, shut up, and let the troubles of the outside world drift away. Then came a tangible shift, as if COVID lockdown factory-reset social awareness.

The basic norms and rituals that held civilised society together were deserted. Cinema made a comeback, but common courtesy apparently did not. So in case you missed the memo on which behaviours are considered inappropriate in this context, view the following as a valuable resource and take note. Loud yapping Hushed tones are a cornerstone of the cinema experience, but it seems they’re also a long-lost art.

Full-volume discussions are now the order of the day, to the detriment of the entire general vicinity. I should not be able to hear your yapping, only gentle whispers as plot points are unpacked in a mindful manner. Moderate your voice, lest I cast a withering look in your direction. You should be forgetting you have a phone.

As far as you’re concerned, it does not exist. Theatres and cinemas stand true as the last existing spaces where we’re allowed – nay, expected – to fully unplug. More and more, we’re seeing rooms dotted with the dull glow of screens, where once there was total, blissful darkness. Put your faith in AusAlert to inform you of any world-ending events in your area, set your phone to silent, and pack it in.

Your eight-hour average screen time does not need adding to, and your situationship will survive for two hours without a text. Blocking the aisle If I am tripping over half of your household belongings on my way to the loo, you ought to be jailed. I am begging movie-goers to have a little spacial awareness. The experience of toppling over an aisle-mate’s basketball – and into the lap of his unsuspecting neighbour – was enough to send me into a coma.

Do not EVER put me in that position again, potential meet-cute notwithstanding. Keep your stuff tucked well out of the walkway, or keep your hazardous self tucked away at home where you belong. Feet on seats Respectfully, get your toes out of my face. If there is an occupant in the seat directly in front of you, your little personal footrest is officially closed for business.

I can’t believe I’m having to say this, but the only time this is acceptable is when the seat in front of you is empty – even then, it’s something you should avoid. You may not be able to smell your feet, but trust me when I say everyone else can. Chomping/slurping Perhaps a lesser-known gripe, though as equally valid as the rest: food noises. As someone who agonises over the perfect window of the movie in which to tear open my Doritos, nothing is more frustrating than the noise of those rustling with careless abandon during particularly quiet moments.

Pretty please, time your chomps accordingly. Punctuality If I had it my way, movie theatre doors would be locked as soon as the ads conclude. Absolutely no one appreciates their view being blocked by a late arrival traipsing in front of them to reach their seat. The ultimate measure of red flag levels – second only to how you treat the wait staff – is whether you pick up after yourself once the credits roll.

I’m convinced there is no litmus test that determines basic decency with quite as much accuracy. The one time I forgot my rubbish, the guilt almost consumed me. I still think about it to this day. If you leave your wrappers and containers strewn around for minimum-wage workers to pick up, a month of court-mandated cinema cleaning should be a legal requirement.

Go on, clock in. Let’s see how you fare. The beauty of cinema is its escapism. If your behaviour is actively jeopardising audience emersion, now is your chance to do better.

Ultimately, we go to the cinema to experience art as a collective; to laugh, to gasp and to cry together. It’s one of the last pure, human experiences we have left. I implore you keep it that way.