The death of cinema etiquette

When I was around 2, my parents took me to the cinema for the first time to see Ice Age 2. While I don’t remember the plot, I remember the screen towering over me and stretching as far as the eye could see, not even wanting to go to the toilet as not to miss anything! Going to the cinema used to feel like one of the only places where an unspoken agreement still exists, and where everyone is immersed.

That sense of escape is part of what makes the decline in cinema etiquette feel so noticeable. From attention spans to influencer culture to main character syndrome, a huge problem has arisen.

Although the Covid pandemic didn’t start this issue, it definitely accelerated it. Of course, during the months of lockdown we all casually consumed films, pausing, scrolling and talking. But when cinemas re-opened, many have brought these living room habits with them, creating a huge disconnect. 

For example, you might have witnessed people putting their feet on the seats in front of them to create a makeshift recliner; although it is important to feel comfortable watching a film, it is not ideal for people around you and it damages the seats! But worse yet you may have been unfortunate to see people doing this with their shoes and socks off… One experience comes to mind for me. I had just sat down with my popcorn, excited to watch the trailers, when the guy next to me whips his socks off, exposing a pair of grippers that I did not care to see. To my absolute disbelief and horror, he started picking at the left-over sock material that was stuck to the crevices of his toes. For me, this was scarier than any horror film that could have appeared on the screen.

Speaking of grim, the living room style of viewing can be seen in some food choices people bring. Although bringing your own food is something I can sympathise with due to pricing, there are some foods that should never enter such a space. Highlights that I have seen include a pack of frozen peas, tuna sandwiches and (maybe controversial) anything that involves needing cutlery. Most people go to the cinema expecting certain smells and sounds, maybe the smell of salty popcorn and the odd screech of a straw against a plastic lid. Anything outside of this narrow boundary will be a discomfort and distraction for others.

Main character syndrome is a problem in public spaces because it undermines the idea of shared and collective responsibility. This mindset most likely has arisen from social media culture, where constant validation encourages people to prioritise their own experiences above others. As a result, public spaces lose the sense of mutual awareness and individuals don’t care about the consequences of their actions on others.

Another persistent problem is phones. It is never discreet; in a dark room some phone’s brightness levels are brighter than a thousand suns and create a massive distraction. The culture of phone addiction distracts not only the person using it, but everyone within its radius.

But more often than not it goes beyond just simply checking messages, I have seen people scrolling and playing games while watching, as if being off the phone for one moment is unbearable. Shrinking attention spans are likely a main contender for this issue, conditioned by constant stimulation and instant gratification that comes with scrolling. Tickets are so expensive, but even so some treat a film as background noise rather than the main focus, which is hard for me to understand. It often feels less like people don’t know any better, but more likely, they just don’t care about how this behaviour disrupts everyone else.

This also goes for conversations and commentary (yes, we can hear you even if you whisper) and people treating films with songs as an opportunity to sing along and perform karaoke, all of which are very irritating to others and pull everyone’s attention away from the film. However, this is a divided topic, with Zara Larson, who describes this social aspect as fundamental, causing huge debate online.

This indifference shows up in other ways too, for example leaving mess behind with the assumption that someone else will deal with it. I unfortunately can’t mention this topic without reliving the trauma that is the Minecraft Movie. As a cinema employee, hearing “it’s your job” doesn’t sting because it’s true, it stings because of the lack of basic courtesy that others hold. In the opening weekend, you could not see the floor through the sea of popcorn, drinks were spilled and abandoned, and all sorts of rubbish were shoved into crevices of seats and splattered everywhere. Something I wish to forget is putting my hand in a cup holder and finding used plasters. What made me sad is that this all felt deliberate, as the spectacle of the mess was part of the experience itself for these teenagers. It was more frustrating because of what it represented, which was a complete detachment from responsibility and the expectation that someone else would handle the consequences.

Social media culture has added another layer to this problem, something that was clearly visible during the Minecraft Movie. The viral pranks and exaggerated reactions reflect how online trends now dictate real life behaviour. The film, and many other examples, were not experienced for their own value but for how they could be recorded and turned into content. In this way, the line between sharing joy with others and selfishness is blurred, with public spaces being a backdrop for individual performances.

Cinemas are so important because they are one of the few spaces left in which people can sit together and be fully present. They sustain the film industry as a whole, supporting thousands of jobs and by showing up, audiences actively support an industry built on creativity and shared cultural experiences. Unlike at home where distractions are endless, the cinema is designed for collective focus with its dark environment and surrounding sound systems, allowing strangers to be collectively absorbed into the same moment together. 

The future of cinema won’t be saved by bigger and better screens and films and cheaper snacks. A large portion depends on whether audiences are willing to relearn how to exist respectfully in shared spaces. 

Perhaps a better argument to make is that etiquette in general is disappearing. The issue is that there is a deeper cultural problem of a growing acceptance of thoughtlessness as normal behaviour. If public spaces are to remain meaningful, etiquette cannot be treated as unnecessary because it serves as a framework that allows strangers to exist together without conflict. Without this framework, the cinema becomes less of a communal experience and more of a reminder of how disconnected we have become from each another.