The Day I Walked Out of a Movie

In all my years of going to the theater, I have never walked out of a movie and asked for a refund. That is, until this past weekend.

Photo credit: Express Monorail via Compfight

I have been waiting to see Interstellar for well over a year. The movie brings together two things I feel passionate about: Christopher Nolan’s films and the subject of space travel. Nolan famously shoots his movies on film rather than digitally, and the movie was being shown in the 35MM format at my local theater. Most theaters these days have switched from film to digital projectors, so I knew this would be a rare treat.

When the movie began, I was disappointed to see large streaks on the screen. The picture was also very dim and slightly out of focus. I stepped out and spoke to an employee, who assured me they were working on it. After watching a while longer with no signs of improvement, I decided to leave. I couldn’t watch the movie this way.

When I asked for a refund, one of the employees mentioned they had been having lots of problems with the film projector. They no longer used 35MM projectors and had brought this one out of storage just for Interstellar.

In the vast scheme of things, this incident is a pretty small deal. But I try to learn something from every experience, good or bad. I came away with three lessons for artists:

1. Good art can be ruined by a poor presentation.

I’ve read a good number of reviews of Interstellar and was pretty sure I’d enjoy it. The director, writers, actors, crew and hundreds of other people worked for a couple of years to produce a work of art. Yet it was all compromised in this one instance by a sub-par presentation.

We’ve all heard that content is king, and that’s true to a degree. In any art form, the ideas are the heart of the creative process. But no one will pay attention to our art if it’s presented poorly.

In music, the recording quality and cover art matter. In writing, the formatting and book cover matter. In blogging, the website design matters. In podcasting, the microphone quality matters. In painting, the frame matters.

Artists are chefs who nourish the soul. We must not only choose good ingredients, but also prepare them in a compelling and effective way.

2. Most people are comfortable with mediocrity.

In my theater experience, it didn’t surprise me that there were problems with the projector. Technical problems happen and that’s part of life. What truly surprised me is that no one else seemed bothered by it. The problems with the projection were glaringly obvious, but the rest of the audience seemed content to watch the movie this way.

That is an apt metaphor for life as a whole. Most people are content to go about their days never requiring excellence of others or expecting it from themselves.

Does this make me an elitist? I hope not. I don’t think so. I don’t believe I’m better than anyone else, that’s for sure. But what I do believe is that our standards in life are far too low. Why should we settle for less than excellence from others or ourselves?

Most people don’t want to rise above the average. But you and I shouldn’t aspire to be like most people. We want more out of life, and more from ourselves, than just the average.

3. Excellence is the best protest.

If we want to be a positive influence in the world, we can’t focus on pointing out the flaws of others. Anyone can do that, and many do. (Lots of people make their living that way. For instance, most politicians, cable news programs, and gossip columnists.)

The best way to counteract the mediocrity around us is to be excellent ourselves.

It’s easy to complain to a theater manager about bad projection. It’s hard to make your own art and present it perfectly.

It’s easy to complain about your negative co-worker. It’s hard to have a positive attitude yourself.

It’s easy to preach a sermon about the immorality of our culture. It’s hard to love your neighbor who doesn’t share your values.

It’s easy to write a negative book review on Amazon. It’s hard to write a great book yourself.

It’s temping to choose the easy way of criticism. But criticism alone doesn’t bring about lasting change. We’re much better off spending our time making art that represents our best effort to serve others, glorify God, and make use of our talent. Let your excellence be your protest.

I don’t regret walking out of the theater. But I plan on going back to the same theater and seeing the same movie (with digital projection, not film). I want to support good art and all the people who make it possible.

But even more, I want to make good art myself.

What is your biggest challenge in making excellent art?