When I first heard about “A Quiet Place” I was intrigued. I thought, really? A QUIET movie? Most movies today are SO LOUD. Scratch that. The special effects and music are loud; the dialogue is usually too quiet for me to hear, even with my hearing aids. Whenever my son watches movies in the basement after my husband and I go to bed, I often wake up thinking that we are being invaded by cyborgs or whatever the current alien/monster/robot is. The floor vibrates as the booming effects enter our bedroom through the air vents. So, when I heard Jim from “The Office” (That is who he will always be to me) talking about his new movie with a real, live deaf girl and almost no noise at all, I wanted to see it.
On Sunday, the family and I went to our local “have some booze and eat before you see the movie, heck you can even have booze and food in your reclining seat in the theater” movie theater. I love those. It seems like they are everywhere now. Unless you live in a town where “turn left at the third barn” is one of the directions to your house, you probably have one of these magical theaters. So, my husband, my son, and my son’s girlfriend got to the theater early and had drinks and tasty food. Then, we entered the quietest theater I had ever been to in my life.
Well, actually it was loud at first. We found our group of pleather recliners while the previews were still going. We had to inch past the people that were already in full recline mode, including a man who was at least as tall as Shaq. His feet hung a good six inches over the edge of the recliner. With the previews going, it was still a normal theater. So, we slurped on our drinks and the kids (they are 21 and 22, but still kids to me) crunched on their candy. This all came to an end rather quickly when the movie started.
The great thing about “A Quiet Place” is that it is, well, quiet. Most of the movie is nothing but sign language, sub-titles, and bare feet. Since I can’t hear for shit, I usually have the sub-titles on at home. It was a real treat to have them at the theater because, as I mentioned, I usually can’t hear the dialogue. If you are hearing impaired, “A Quiet Place” is THE movie to see in the theater. Because of this, I LOVED the movie.
The downer to “A Quiet Place” is that it is TOO QUIET. You can hear EVERYTHING in the theater. My ice shook when I took a drink and I felt bad because EVERYONE in the whole damn theater could hear it. Once this fact hit me, I got anxious about the possibility of farting. I literally broke out in a sweat just thinking about gas. In a normal movie, you can get away with a little fart, here and there. I’m not talking about one of those “for the love of fuck somebody light a match; something died in here” farts. I mean your garden variety toot or rubber band snappy sounding fart. In a normal movie, you could totally let loose. DO NOT attempt this in “A Quiet Place.” One time, I changed positions in my pleather seat and it made that sort of fartesque noise that denim scooching across fake leather makes. Two people in front of me looked at me and I wished I knew the sign language for “that was not a fart!”
And then I had to pee. Usually, I can hold a pee for a while if I’m watching a really good movie, but this was one of those pees where your bladder feels like a water balloon that is about to pop. I had to try to quietly walk to the bathroom. So, I lowered my recliner. That made a noise. This woke my husband who always sleeps in movies, so I signed “P P” so he knew where I was going. Then, I put my rain jacket, which crinkled, over my purse in the seat, and walked quickly to the exit. Of course, I ran right into Shaq’s feet and the bottom of his shoes dragged across my new Stitch Fix jeans. Now, I had to wash them or burn them when I got home. I could visualize the germs. When I came back from the bathroom, I did the sideways crab crawl plie to get past Shaq without soiling the other leg of my jeans.
I was able to watch the rest of the movie without causing any distractions, aside from making the fartesque noise again while sliding into my seat, and uncrinkling my rain jacket as I moved it to my lap. My husband went back to sleep after I sat down, and he was able to keep his snores to an acceptable level. I stopped drinking my drink so I wouldn’t make any more ice noise or have to go to the bathroom again. I was ready to sit silently and watch this movie.
And then it ended. Just like that. Really suddenly. I hated the ending. I’m a typical American when it comes to movies, I guess. I don’t want an artsy fartsy make you think ending. I want to know what happens to the characters. I want to know if they live or die. I want to know if they solve this pressing monster issue that has plagued them and caused them to risk ringworm, tetanus, and a number of other things by running around barefoot. The ending of “A Quiet Place” did not tie things up neatly. Office Jim and his co-writers left the audience hanging quietly in their seats. Perhaps there will be “A Quiet Place Two” or “A Quieter Place” or “Seriously, Be Fucking Quiet” movie in the future. If there is, I’m watching it at home. I can’t take the pressure of putting all bodily functions on hold.