The first time I went to the flicks in the USA, I was totally unprepared for the cacophonous soundtrack that would accompany the main feature. Used to a culture where the occasional rustle of a sweetie wrapper or a polite cough was as loud as it got, a brash Brooklyn audience’s rumbunctious behaviour seemed shocking. Sure enough, where America leads...Visit any British multi-screen now and the unruly ‘plex pests rule. Remonstration is pointless; Beavis and Butt-head know their rights. You’ll get done for harassment...or worse. Last Saturday, I literally (and figuratively) lost the plot - driven to distraction by the oiks in the row behind, noisily chomping the contents of buckets twice the size of their fat heads and engaging in popcorn flicking contests when not loudly discussing half-term - or the sexual availability of ‘that slag, Paige’ - on their mobiles. ‘I’m at the cinema’ is the new ‘I’m on the train.’ Bring back the silent movies!
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