I, a 38-year-old woman, saw WH last night w my friend Brian, a 40-year-old man, in a Massachusetts movie theatre. We were surrounded on all sides by approximately eight groups of at least six 14-17-year-old girls per group. Before the movie started, there was a low buzz of chatter— the girls discussed anticipation for the film and recognized peers in the crowd. “I knew Hannah and Laura would be here!” They all had throw blankets. I offered my own hissed whisper Brian, “Omg this is the perfect way to see this. I hope they never stop talking.” They did not stop talking until the very end, which is when the crying started.

The immersive experience of hearing Jacob Elordi do the “Take any form. Drive me mad. Only do not leave me in this abyss where I cannot find you” speech over the stifled sobs and Diet Cherry Coke slurps of these kids was an installation piece to which I give 5 stars. I can’t separate the film itself from my singular experience of viewing it and hope I never can.