Phone Down, Volume Up
Last summer’s Oppenheimer (2023) drew people across state lines to watch what was marketed as the highest-quality film of our time. Christopher Nolan shot the historical drama on 70mm IMAX, a film format exclusively available in only 19 out of 2,278 theaters across the United States. The film was a massive success, securing seven Oscar wins and amassing close to one billion dollars at the box office. Nolan expressed the reward of watching the film on the largest screen possible, as he puts it: “The sharpness and the clarity and the depth of the image is unparalleled.”
I watched Oppenheimer for the first time two weeks ago on my 13-inch laptop screen. I tried my best to stick with the bomb talk, but after a few shots of Robert Downey Jr. frowning I would reach for my phone. I scrolled aimlessly while a superstar cast delivered some of their best performances; for me, it was an earnest but admittedly half-hearted attempt at giving Cillian Murphy’s blue eyes a chance to maintain my interest. Of course, this meant that I would rewind the movie when my attention was recaptured, and then restart whatever video was playing on my phone. I kept at this for longer than I’d like to admit, splitting my attention and getting frustrated by my brain’s inability to process both screens simultaneously until I gave up and swapped to some form of brainless stimulation. I can’t even remember specifically what it was that I chose, but I put my money on a slew of random YouTube videos or maybe some Instagram reels. Finally, on my third attempt at watching, I completed Oppenheimer on August 15th—an entire summer after its release.
I often watch things because I’m told to by the internet or people who get their opinions from the internet, which is just a roundabout way of saying my algorithm influences what I deem worthy of dedicating my attention to. Last summer, Barbenheimer was the main event, a social movement bolstered by TikTok audios and social media trends. The movies I watch and the music I listen to are the products of a catered feed that recycles my likes and favorites to reprocess them into content only slightly different than the kind before. Whether the media is popular, hated, or loved doesn’t matter. If eyes are on something, I become a part of it, suddenly interested in media I wouldn’t even consider if it wasn’t for the critics, the magazines, and the people on my phone telling me I just have to know about it. I have a surplus of opinions at my fingertips from people I don’t even know.
We all operate within this culture of mass consumption. We’re more likely to watch a reaction video for an album than we are to sit with the music ourselves. We’ll see what people on Rotten Tomatoes and Letterboxd think before we allow ourselves to buy tickets to movies we might want to see. I’ve told other people not to watch things I’ve never even seen because someone on TikTok told me it wasn’t worth my time. I’ve skipped listening to entire albums by only picking out their most streamed songs. I let strangers online tell me what’s good first, and then I give it a try. On the internet the line between which opinions are my own and which belong to the pixels on my screen blurs and becomes a fuzzy divide.
Upon his release of IGOR in 2019, Tyler, the Creator, announced his self-produced album with listening instructions. My favorite excerpt is:
I believe the first listen works best all the way through, no skips. Front to back. No distractions either. No checking your phone no watching TV no holding convo, full attn towards the sounds where you can form your own opinions and feelings towards the album.
That is what I’ve been trying to do more of. This summer, I listened to Billie Eilish’s latest album, HIT ME HARD AND SOFT (2024), sitting on my bed with the lights off, my phone lying face down in the opposite corner of my room, and the volume in my headphones turned all the way up. I did the same with other 2024 summer releases: Charli XCX’s Brat, Omar Apollo’s God Said No, and Childish Gambino’s final studio album Bando Stone and the New World. I have tried to make a small habit out of dedicating my full attention to new media, which has allowed me to form an independent opinion constructed entirely by myself. There’s magic in this isolated exchange. You are able to interact with art in a way that is specific to you, which leads to a connection that is exclusively yours. You figure out what your artistic taste is. You learn what stories speak closest to you.
This is all to say you get more out of art when you approach it with your full attention. Not only is this the more respectful way to examine and critique work that someone has spent ample time, attention, and money on (sorry, Mr. Nolan, big fan of Interstellar (2014)), but it also allows you to experience the work completely. Put your phone down, turn the volume up, and absorb what’s being presented to you. How can you participate in a conversation if you’re not even listening?
