Some noise about noise
It was one of those times I truly wanted to karate-chop someone in the throat.
At an early afternoon screening of Iron-Man 3, I had the tiny misfortune of being seated in the orbit of an extremely talkative young woman. We’ve all encountered her kind at one point or another: she’s that person who must work a side comment in after every major scene, no matter how spectacularly obvious or banal it may be. In the roster of inconsiderate filmgoers, this type of asshole roosts at the very summit, edging out those who chat on their mobile phones — or let them go off — and those who munch on their popcorn with too much gusto.
Amid the disruption, the Prince Charles Cinema in London came to mind. The theater in Leicester Square is clamping down on unnecessary noise with the help of a team of “Cinema Ninjas.†These volunteers, dressed in black Lycra suits, sneak up on errant loudmouths, tap them on the shoulder and point out what they are doing wrong. It would be fantastic if the Ayala Malls adopted a similar scheme.
Paul Gauguin’s Tahiti
It seems the complex question of passive sound — how spaces shape the noise that is produced by environment and use — becomes an afterthought to architecture as far as commercial establishments are concerned. The Landmark in Glorietta, for example, blasts music to welcome shoppers entering via the elevated walkway while on another floor, department store employees take turns at a karaoke machine. At Tous Les Jours, a South Korean chain bakery in Greenbelt 5, I’m ushered in enthusiastically by its staff, an unnecessary nicety since I’m quite aware of where I am.
Perhaps the aim is to seem friendlier or more vibrant, the way to keep the tills ringing, but I wonder why shops are convinced that adding to the relentless soundtrack of noise that underscores our daily existence is the way to do it. It can be a bit patronizing. London’s Selfridges, on the other hand, has a new Silence Room that provides overwhelmed shoppers with a place to relax. I imagine it to function more or less like a bookstore, my version of Paul Gauguin’s laidback Tahiti — where no one ever yells — as mentioned in Philip Roth’s early novella Goodbye, Columbus.
‘International shut up day’
While we can’t shut our ears as we can our eyes, one way I manage is by keeping myself constantly plugged into my iPod. By creating an invisible, audio-fueled layer of protection, I drown out the chatter from ringing phones or other people’s mindless conversations. Psychologists refer to this behavior as “divided attention†or “inattentional blindness,†and though there are road safety risks, I’d rather be sequestered in my own sound cocoon than be consumed by the claustrophobia of city life.
If the World Wide Fund for Nature can encourage households and businesses to turn off their non-essential lights for one hour every March and Shutdown Day, an Internet campaign that was active between 2007 and 2009, got as many people as possible to ignore their computers for 24 hours, maybe an organization can impose a period of enforced peace and call it International Shut Up Day. That no one will be allowed to talk then — at least not at full volume — could be regarded as extreme, but I think it’s genius. To quote Mia Wallace, Uma Thurman’s Pulp Fiction character: “Uncomfortable silences… why do we feel it’s necessary to yak about bullsh*t in order to be comfortable?†Aside from helping us regain calm and perspective, the resulting stillness should also minimize those bad movie theater experiences.
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