I have a confession: I walk out of movies frequently. This habit stems from two main factors that have shaped my relationship with cinema as both a viewer and a storyteller.
First, my work on a novel has made me hypercritical of narrative structure. When a film fails to meet my expectations for storytelling craft, frustration overtakes entertainment, and I find myself heading for the exit. Second, there are moments when I recognize I’ve extracted all the value a particular movie can offer me. Rather than staying out of obligation or social convention, I choose to redirect my time toward more productive pursuits.
My departure point is remarkably consistent: the inciting incident. This crucial story beat often reveals whether a film will deliver on its initial promise, and it’s precisely where I decided to leave the indie film “Eddington.”
“Eddington” isn’t inherently flawed. The filmmaking displays competence, and I found myself genuinely invested in the characters—a rarity among the movies I abandon. However, as the narrative trajectory became clear, I recognized what lay ahead: two hours of what felt like ideological messaging wrapped in conservative, anti-mask rhetoric.
The film’s contentious reception makes perfect sense. While I personally couldn’t stomach what I perceived as heavy-handed preaching, I understand why others might find value in its perspective. The characters possessed enough depth to warrant emotional investment, which perhaps makes the ideological divide even more pronounced for viewers on either side.
My walkout wasn’t a rejection of the film’s technical merits or even its right to exist. Rather, it was an acknowledgment that this particular story, told in this particular way, wasn’t going to serve my needs as either entertainment or artistic inspiration. Sometimes the most honest response to art is simply recognizing when it’s not meant for you.
