Straight Nonsense: For the love of God, bring back theater etiquette

In the column Straight Nonsense, columnist Moises Mendez II takes a queer eye to the insanity of straight culture.

We are living in an age of extreme individualism, and it's infiltrating every facet of our lives. We've seen it through the dumbest discourses taking place online — most recently, the "Stuffie" discourse, where someone posted a photo of them hanging out with their friends and was met with thousands of comments calling them capitalist freaks and evil — all for uploading a picture of a group of friends just hanging out in a lovely apartment. It's a product of the "Bean Soup" or "I love having coffee with my husband" discourse that happened a few years ago, where harmless scenes of contentment were met with digital rage.

But we've also seen the harms of extreme individualism manifest IRL at movies and Broadway shows — two places I've been to recently and had less-than-optimal experiences because of theatergoers who thought their experience was more important than anyone else's. I know what you're thinking: Moises, Broadway is the gayest form of entertainment there is. To that, I say you're wrong, and comedian Aaron Jackson's thoughts on the matter support my idea that musical theater is straight. He points out that the people who introduced him to theater (and a common entry point for most people) are straight parents. Personally, my parents took me to see my first ever Broadway show, The Lion King, as a child, and it made me gay. But straight people love live theater, and therefore it qualifies for this week's topic of Straight Nonsense™.

I've been saying this for years, and I'm definitely not the first one to say it: Ever since the pandemic, people have forgotten how to be outside and in crowds. More often than not, people are talking and texting during Broadway shows, reacting loudly and trying to get the attention of the person onstage, coming late, or disrupting other people's experiences by getting up to use the restroom in the middle of a scene. And that's just Broadway; the movie theater patrons and concertgoers are so much worse.

I understand that complaining about people not acting a certain way in a theater makes me (a 28-year-old gay man) sound like a wannabe Fran Lebowitz. But every interruption — big or small — is a distraction from the production and a nuisance to the people around them trying to enjoy it. It's disrespectful not only to your fellow audience members but also to the art that people work tirelessly to create.

Last night, I saw Buena Vista Social Club on Broadway for the second time — a fantastic show I would see over and over again — but a few people negatively impacted my experience. About two rows in front of me, a woman sat with three older men who were obviously very excited to see the show and reacted with undeniably electric energy during the incredible live music. I took issue with the fact that during the quieter moments — the more emotionally heavy scenes — I could hear them talking in every scene, without fail. You're welcome to cheer for the musicians as they leave their hearts on stage after they finish an emotional number or during a particularly impressive moment. The energy around them was tense from the jump because they were recording the opening number after being told (in English and Spanish) that recording was not allowed.

Don't even get me started on being in a crowd of older people who don't turn their ringer off, so phones keep going off in the middle of shows. I saw Purpose on Broadway earlier this year (a fabulous play) with a friend, and I kid you not, six phones went off during the show — one person's ringtone was a Billy Joel song, and they couldn't find their phone, so it just played loudly during a tense exchange between characters. That is the type of stuff that grinds my gears!

It was just an uncomfortable experience because you never knew when they would be disruptive or how other people around them would react. The same thing happened last week when I saw Wicked: For Good with a group of friends. We sat in front of a group of young people who were basically talking throughout the entire movie — making comments, giggling, kicking their feet, and, loudest of all, sobbing. Yes, the movie is sad, and people cried, but it felt like they wanted everyone to hear how loud they were crying, even when they were heaving during moments that weren't even sad (the waterworks started before the door scene).

The movie is by no means a Good Movie™, and that's not to say that some people won't be emotionally affected by it, but their open-mouthed sobs were a cry for attention because, again, while yes, it's a sad movie, very few films have inspired that big of a reaction out of anyone I've ever watched a movie with. On top of that, my friends and I could hear them talking throughout the entire film.

I'm not one to be confrontational, and some may argue that if you see (or hear) something, you should say something — but that's not me, especially as a brown person. But there comes a point of disrespect that warrants a reaction from your fellow patrons, and it almost got to that point.

This sense of entitlement — the conviction that your experience at an entertainment event is more important than others' — is plaguing these theaters, where people are spending what little money they have on a night out during this economic downturn. But because some people forget decorum or don't care enough, they do whatever they want. Sometimes it's best to let the ushers handle it, but if the moment feels right, you may be able to take matters into your own hands and politely ask them to stop talking.

It's not monstrous to expect a positive communal theater experience; that's why we go to the theater! It is awful to disrupt other people's experience and get upset when you get called out. If that's the case, maybe wait until whatever you decided to pay for becomes available on streaming.

Moises Mendez II is a staff writer at Out magazine. Follow him on Instagram @moisesfenty.

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