I was one of the 200,000 blood clots that filled the veins of the Auckland CBD during the Rugby World Cup opening night.
My plan was to take the fan trail to Eden Park in order to make to the ABs Tonga game, meaning I escaped the viaduct before they closed it off like a quarantine zone.
It was quite an exuberant experience being amongst such a mass whose collective goal was simply to party down.
The overwhelming population came with a price though. The line for the cloud measured around a kilometre, bars were packed, the ferry couldn’t dock and even the simple act of walking became troublesome.
Crowds come with their pros and cons, and it works with your local movie-going experiences too. Dependent on the conditions, collective audiences have the potential to make or break a film.
We like to think that the ideal movie attendee would always keep quiet, but that may not always be the case. We often want others to join in with particular experiences, to positively reinforce our given reactions. There are a number of genres where this holds true.
Comedies
There’s a reason most Western sit-coms come with a laugh track: laughter’s infectious. I’m not aware of the science behind it, but if something funny occurs and someone around you chuckles, you’re more likely to do so as well.
So, if you were RO the FL during The Hangover Part 2 in a packed cinema, it would make sense if you were reduced to a LOL catching it on TV by yourself. You’d be surprised (perhaps disgusted) at what you may find funny amongst a crowd.
But hey, if a crowd can make even the weakest of comedies seem enjoyable, I’d call that an advantage.
Dumb fun action films
The ideal audience for a dumb fun action film is a group who KNOW it’s a dumb fun action film. They should realise that the plot is used as a wafer-thin spring board for the corny one-liners, ridiculous characters and absurd, awesome set pieces. Additionally, they should revel in those qualities.
To hear a crowd roar in applause when a total badass annihilates an entire platoon is far more memorable than sitting on your couch by yourself muttering “That was pretty choice.”
I would never watch Commando by myself, but if they were to screen it at the Civic, I’d be rushing out there in my war paint and camo gear holding my homemade replica steam pipe.
Camp horror
A horror doesn’t have to be “good” per se in order to be entertaining. Campy horror flicks fill our need to witness disturbing, disgusting and yes, horrific acts of manslaughter. As an added bonus, we witness some priceless reactions to such grisly scenes. There’s also an underlying sense of solidarity within a given audience that wince together in discomfort.
Or groan together in disappointment.
That’s what’s made the Saw franchise such a success (as well as Friday The 13th and A Nightmare On Elm Street). The right bloodthirsty crowd knows how to compliment an otherwise pretty bad film to make it somewhat enjoyable.
Specific niche films
You’ve then got the rare type of film that almost solely relies on its audience. Perhaps the most vivid example is The Room from the infamous Tommy Wiseau, a movie so bad it essentially revolves back to being a must-watch, but only with the right crowd.
I saw it back at last year’s NZFF (they also do regular screenings monthly at the Academy Cinema). The majority of the “Roomies” were aware of all the tropes as spawned by the internet (I still have one of the plastic spoons), with everyone acting as sideline commentators. Sure, some of the fan gags got old, but it was nevertheless one of the best cinema experiences I’ve ever had.
Other examples: Troll 2, Hobo With A Shotgun, The Rocky Horror Picture Show.
Unfortunately, we live on Earth, with dirty dirty humans, so we’re never always going to get the right crowd. You’re bound to sit behind to the moron who has to say “Why are there dinosaurs?” during a screening for The Tree Of Life, or be amongst that ass hat who thinks it’s hilarious to shock his girlfriend during the quiet, intense moments of REC.
There’s a lot of bitching, snitching and fantasised lynching we give to those douche bags that can’t turn their phone off or finish their pint of STFU.
However, let’s assume for a moment that we lived in a perfect universe where such villainy did not exist.
I’ll let you bathe in that thought for a moment.
Does this mean that a “perfect” crowd always beats a solo viewing session? I tend to think not.
When secluded in an empty cinema, there’s a certain intimacy to be had between you and the film, for that’s all there is in the room. This intimacy has often added to low-key dramas I’ve seen in solitude, like Never Let Me Go or, more recently, The Help.
Perhaps I find it easier to immerse myself in the film’s world without any involuntary audience-created distractions (sneezing, gasping, head-bobbing ’n’ such). Perhaps the direct connection between me and the big screen plays into how invested into the characters I become. Of course, the movie actually has to be good too.
Cinematic isolation also plays to the advantage of truly tense moment of any film that requires it (thrillers, horrors, etc.). Claustrophobia heightens if no one else is around you. I’ve mentioned before how the original Saw became so memorable to me partly due to my isolation.
Of course, the most important condition when judging a crowd’s worth is how YOU personally value them. Maybe you’re not a loner like me. Maybe you hate the idea of going by yourself to your local Hoyts. Or maybe you’re the type of person who’d wish that Transylvanian transvestite would just sit back down and quietly watch the movie.
Either way, whether you’re with a crowd or not, don’t let Len Brown organise your cinematic night out.
