Movies are a shared experience. Sitting with a couple hundred other souls in a darkened theater as we laugh, cry--and in the case of 3D--scream and duck, enhances our entertainment and provides us with grist for the conversation mill at the Pizza Hut after the show.
But, I've found that over the past few years I've become addicted to "the shared experience" for all my media viewing. No longer satisfied to discuss the film we just watched with hubby or girlfriends over a glass of wine, I'm now driven to learn what the rest of the world thinks about the film, too. As soon as the movie is over, I can't wait to get to my computer and dive into Rotten Tomatoes or IMDB to read the user comments, frequently adding my own. In fact, with recent releases, I've often ended up spending more time on the internet reading about a movie than I did watching it.
And it's not just for the cinema that my viewer experience has changed. I rarely watch TV live any more, preferring to use my DVR to pause a show and race to the internet to research a location, an actor, a character or a plot direction. Living in LA, I can't resist looking up where in town that building is or where they shot that scene. Dialogue that references other books, TV shows and films makes me hit my pause button and rush to Wikipedia to learn more about the reference. Sometimes, my return to the screen is delayed for hours as I follow a computer trail "down the rabbit hole" to an entirely new media destination. Before long, I'm watching a referenced film online while my original DVR selection goes into screensaver mode on the wall's LED.
My favorite part of TV viewing has now become the post-broadcast discussions with fellow aficionados on the web. As soon as the final credits roll on a new episode of a favorite series, I'm at my keyboard checking sites such as Television Without Pity to read SuperFan476's opinion about the latest story arc or changes in the cast. Puzzled by plot twists, I turn to the internet to see what SmartSolver1982 has to say about that incomprehensible time travel sequence. Before long, I'm debating with the viewer who thinks the show has "deteriorated in Season 3," and snooping for spoilers on the episodes to come. I've even yielded to the come-ons of production companies and networks to "provide feedback" on their program websites, convincing myself of the fantasy that my input will really have an impact.
I suppose that this transformation of film and TV television viewing into an interactive experience that "keeps on giving" is a positive change. It enhances our sense of participation in a social community--somewhat akin to the post-episode watercooler chats we used to have about Bruce Willis back in the day when everyone watched "Moonlighting." But, I do wonder if our ability to use the internet to expand our film and TV screen time won't lead us instead to be even less connected with, and more firewalled from, real life.