This hushed ritual, lasting mere seconds prior to each session or show, marks the commencement of one of the last experiences of total immersion remaining in our technology-savvy, multiscreen-saturated society. For the sixty minutes or longer that follows, audiences are asked to pledge their complete attention to the piece of filmed or performed art played out before them. Their eyes must only search the contents of their direct vicinity; their ears may only hear the sounds filtering through their surrounds; their senses must submit to the immediacy of the now and the near.
The meditation of darkened theatres commences, and gone are the distractions of life outside of the presentation space. But how do cinemas and playhouses cultivate and perpetuate their status as one of the last remaining bastions of uninterrupted, cathartic concentration? And why do audiences react and flock to them?
Committing time
The strongest component of cinema and theatre-going as therapy is also the simplest: in seeing a film or performance, and actively committing a portion of time to enjoying a piece of entertainment, you willingly let go of the extraneous and inessential. You ignore everything, pressing and not so, other than what is immediately in front of you.
The allocated duration is of vital importance, allowing a pre-determined, unbroken allotment of breathing space from reality. By not only intending to attend, but following through with your decision, you grant permission to be distracted from your concerns, relaxed from your responsibilities, and engrossed in pure escapism – but in controlled circumstances. You do so with purpose and precision, knowing your wants and worries can and will wait for your scheduled return.
Finding space
A multitude of opportunities exist for the intake of entertainment and the pursuit of avoiding duties and deadlines, but the where is as important as the what. As homes are increasingly filled with too many screens, and phones become portable media players forever screaming for our interaction, going to a specific location to consume products of creativity brings with it a sense of determination.
Theatres are custom-made for immersion, from the angle and upholstery of their seating, to the temperature of their rooms and the tone of their acoustics. They force your attention, and endeavor to ensure deviating from the central point of focus is the exception rather than the norm. Their standing as spaces dedicated to watching –and nothing else – aids in the absorption of all that they offer. They provide sanctuaries not only devoted to consuming art, but to avoiding anything outside of the current experience.
Getting settled
Taking your seat may not involve much thought, or, as allocated seating extends from live performances to cinemas, choice; however once you are installed in your chair, a process begins. Even in the most inhospitable of furniture, you attempt to locate a place of comfort. You adjust to your surroundings, and find a position of relative harmony.
Again, knowing the duration of your stay works in your favour; for a limited period, you must settle, become still, and fight the urge to fidget and fuss. A point of physical reconciliation is strived for, and ultimately – even reluctantly – attained, allowing your awareness to shift from your body to your mind, from the act of sitting to the experience of engaging with the content.
Remaining undisturbed
In a theatre, everyone can hear you scream, shout, take phone calls and send text messages, no matter how discreet you try to be. Accordingly, common decency dictates that for the duration of your time there, you don’t do any of the above. The transaction goes both ways: you don’t disturb others, and you aren’t disturbed – either by impolite patrons, or by the world outside.
In the solace of darkness, you stare at the film or the players above all else. By function and design, nothing else matters. Sans second screen, absent the ability to pause the performance, and unable to easily divert your awareness to another activity, your only interferences stem from your choice of entertainment. There’s no ringing phone, no nagging chores, and no lure of making a mid-movie cup of tea.
Relaxing the mind
It takes even the most trained mind time to relax, with the use of a mantra or sound championed in traditional meditation. By affording a dedicated time and space to unwind, endeavouring to provide a respite from physical demands, and eliminating disruptions, a darkened theatre primes your mind to let go. It starts the ignition sequence towards meditative lift-off.
Then, the film or performance sets in motion, actively offering an instant source of input, and passively allowing you to absorb its wares without interacting. It demands a departure of your attention from the things that normally fill your day, distracts with the machinations of its content and creation, but gifts the distance that gives your thoughts room to move. In its difference and diversion, regardless of the material at hand, it eases your mental burden.
Taking it with you
For better or worse, witnessing an act of entertainment comes with consequences: your impressions and opinions of the film watched or show seen will linger long after the item in question comes to its natural conclusion. You’ll ponder its successes and failures for minutes, hours and days to come. Long after the initial experience, it will continue to occupy part of your mind.
Taking the sum of your audio-visual experience with you is a positive outcome, even if the movie or play wasn’t worthy of continued effort. At any time, you can recall your reaction, re-visit the process of viewing, and re-ignite your engagement with the material. You have established something to return to, both as fuel for thought, and as a totem of your meditation in the darkened theatre.
