Trailer Tuesdays: The Babadook

I must admit, despite the fact it's a festival darling and a five-star film by all accounts, I have no intention of watching this.

The last time I braved a horror film, it was Insidious, a fairly lacklustre offering that delves into a mystical realm called 'the Further' to stop a boy from being possessed by a malevolent entity. Unlike Paranormal Activity where the foe is never seen, Insidious got brave and tried to create a new horror icon; a demon dressed in black with a a passing resemblance to Darth Maul. Anyway, one of the film's centerpiece moments revolves around a house alarm going off in the middle of the night, causing the family to leave their child alone. The other revolves around a grandfather clock at the end of a long corridor. So far, so pedestrian.

The next day, I was home alone, idly watching reruns of The Simpsons on a Sunday, when my neighbour's house alarm went off. Being the excellent, stand-up member of the community that I am, I took our spare key and ventured outside to investigate. The door was locked, so no forced entry here. I turn the key, let myself in and turn off the alarm. Then I see it.

At some point over the two years since I was there last, my neighbours redecorated. And at some point in time, they've inherited or installed a massive bloody grandfather clock at the end of the hallway.

So yeah, I am not watching The Babadook. Have fun with this one.

Sit down and shut up.

Around November time, I went to a screening of Thor: The Dark World in one of the bigger multiplexes. When Hemsworth stripped to the waist for the obligatory money shot, two teenage girls sat directly behind us broke into squeals of unadulterated glee. These girls, clearly ecstatic that they have just seen a human male outside of the Starbucks queue, continued to gush for several minutes until I turned around and asked for a bit of quiet. The fragile peace did not last long.

Talking during films isn't always such a taboo. Bruce Thomas' Fighting Spirit, a biography of Bruce Lee's life and work, touched on the plight of the Hong Kong film industry:

"Hong Kong audiences would openly jeer a film they didn't like, and were even known to attack the seats with knives if it was really poor."

 In a slightly more recent example, this reddit thread came from an /r/movies contributor asking about the concept of cheering and shouting during movies. As a Brit, this is an alien and barbaric concept: despite the show of appreciation and solidarity, you're clapping at a cast of people who can't hear you behind the magic window. But one commenter states:

"Watching a film in India is like attending a live sporting event."

The thread goes on to say that during a Bollywood picture, the claps and cheers are joined by dancing. Dancing. In some parts of the world, this phenomenon seems like a pretty popular part of the moviegoing process. But it's a distraction, and distractions, to a lot of moviegoers, defeat the point of immersion.

This certainly isn't the case with everyone, and it's not the case when it comes to all films. I will only watch Road House with beer in hand and a house full of friends to rip the performances of Jackie Treehorn and Crazy Swayze to shreds. But woe betide the individual who utters a word during a moment of pure cinemagic: talking during Mufasa's death scene is the cinematic equivalent of someone walking into your house and casually pimp-handing your mother. It's a violation.

Whichever side of the fence you fall, there is no denying that the claps and cheers have their place - cheering during a blockbuster is a bonding experience with a group of strangers, and nowhere other than the cinema does that happen.

Just don't be these people.