Be Careful Before You Judge Me for Laughing at the Movies

I always kind of hoped I might go viral on film Twitter—just not for the reason it ended up happening. I wish it was for my freelance writing instead of as part of the discourse about respectability politics around how audiences behave at the movies.

If you’ve ever attended film screenings for members of the press in New York City, you might have heard my easy-to-identify cackle (developed as a result of my autism and past speech therapy sessions) that sounds like a cross between Spongebob SquarePants’ best friend Patrick Star and a hyena.

Several critics, filmmakers, and industry stakeholders have told me that my rambunctious intonation is the pulse of this current moment in NYC film culture—and that it makes filmmakers enthusiastic about the reaction to their work, like when Ari Aster said my laugh “needs to be in his sound library.” At a recent talk with Todd Haynes at New York Film Festival, you could probably have made a drinking game out of spotting my distinctive laugh.

After a recent New York Film Festival press screening of the new tearjerker drama All of Us Strangers, I received an official complaint from the organization that puts on the event about my vocal response to the film. Apparently, they think filmgoers should be devoid of emotion and equate my laugh with chatting and phone use during the movie.

To be clear, I laughed at the cheesy dialogue (such as Claire Foy’s character asking star Andrew Scott if Paul Mescal, who plays his love interest, is his "special friend") and its romantic comedy-esque gazes between the two leads—not the film’s more tragic moments.

I spent my first 22 years in the Midwest, growing up in the northern Chicago suburbs and attending college in Missouri. At both multiplexes and the few prominent arthouses I regularly attended, people didn't stare or look down at me. I felt welcomed there and the annual documentary festival True/False in each of my pilgrimages as a University of Missouri student and alum.

I moved to New York City last year to pursue a career in media production or film criticism and had a steady portfolio of clips. I naively focused on the fun side of seeing flicks year-round, closing my eyes to the institutional ableism in film theaters. Despite ADA compliance rules, discrimination is evident at venues that don’t allow people with physical disabilities to easily access the stage or ground level to participate in Q&As.

After speaking with a couple of fellow critics, they informed me that people will measure my reputation not solely on my relationships with editors and stakeholders or the quality of my writing but also on how I carry myself in these ableist micro and macro aggressions. I can’t take it personally or seriously, they say, and I need to endure this subtle bigotry while sharing my passion for cinema.

I’m thankful for critics and industry professionals who have publicly had my back on social media. It has fortified me from the hurt I may otherwise feel because of festival-goers telling me to “keep it down” during the crowd-pleasing Hit Man and requesting that I stop chuckling during the provocative scene that opens the wry sex comedy The Feeling That The Time For Doing Something Has Passed.

It’s frankly absurd that I’m experiencing all of this public scorn because of something as involuntary as laughter. If I can respect people eating during a movie, the detractors who want to dictate how to communicate the pleasures of observing a work of art should do the same.

People mainly think of accessibility in the film world as something you can see, like helping people obtain a copy of a movie to watch at home, making it possible for them to attend screenings in person, or displaying captions on screen. But accessibility also involves how we express ourselves emotionally and mentally due to less obvious differences.

Critic Hayden Mears, who has autism, stated that he “attests to similar disconnects between presentation and intention” when it comes to his own public responses to films. I laugh while I am watching things for the first time and, like every moviegoer, am vocal when reacting to a funny moment, whether it’s a corny quote or peculiar shot. Even for somebody who is not neurodivergent, laughing is an essentially harmless activity.

Cinema is a social experience, and the movie theater values unity by offering us the best possible venue for the audio/visual imaginations we love seeing. Nobody should be penalized for reacting to something in a particular way. And I won't shut up and sit quietly during a moment that I find hilarious.

Simply put, it’s not a crime to laugh.

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