Before the start of every press screening, there’s always at least one bigmouthed sociopath who’s determined to “perform” for everyone else. A person, I mean, who regards a quiet screening room occupied by 25, 30 or 35 colleagues as a kind of Comedy Store venue…as an opportunity to do a little stand-up…a chance to broadcast each and every banal, eye-rolling opinion that comes to mind with a loud, close-to-bellowing voice.

The douchebag usually “performs” with a partner who acts as the straight man — a sitting guy who always says “uh-huh,” “yep,” “oh, yeah”, “hah-hah, yeah” and so on. The sitting journalist audience (i.e., people silently scrolling through Twitter on their smart phones) have no choice but to sit and listen to this ayehole go on and on about how he feels about this or that upcoming film or about how his junket interview went with Taron Egerton or Ben Mendelson. Or whatever.

These guys will talk and talk about anything and everything. What matters most to them is that others are paying attention.

The offending party is almost always a 40ish or 50ish guy wearing dad jeans — I’ve never seen women or gay guys pull this crap.

If the venue happens to be a large theatre (used for all-media screenings) and it’s not as easy to be heard, the performer will stand in front of his straight-man and lean against a row of seats — facing the rear of the theatre, back to the screen — so that every journo facing the screen is obliged to stare at him as he chats away.

They may not be able to hear every word, but they know he’s got stories and opinions — lots of them — and that he’s quite the gadfly and sharing like a motherfucker.