This evening I went to see Monster’s Ball, and as usual, I end up in the part of the theater filled with idiots. We had (only) one cell phone ring, but no one moved to answer it or turn it off. Four rings. Sheesh.

And I had the people behind me. Those ones who always say the most inane and obvious things in a stage whisper. When the doctors pull the sheet over the person’s face after the operation failed, they say “He’s dead.”

When one character is drinking multiple small bottles of whisky, slurring words and being rather gregarious, he tells her “she’s drunk.”

As the camera pans across the backyard, with several gravestones visible he says “they buried them in the backyard…”

When the credits started rolling, their cellphone rings, and he has an unecessarily loud and lengthy conversation, which he then debriefs his wife on (“it was our DAUGHTER! Who else would it be?!”) and then starts complaining about the pointless credits listing crew etc. when what he really was interested in was the cast (ahem, buddy, that’s when you were talking?).


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