Reasons you should watch the credits

a few arguments for watching the entire movie

I am an annoying film-watching partner. I demand to sit front and center so as to be fully immersed in the movie and not distracted by the real world or any people who might be moving in my line of sight. Depending on the tone of the movie, I often allow nothing in the way of whispered asides, and I functionally ignore you. (We are having parallel experiences of the same film, not one communal experience. But, again, films with a gonzo or comedic tone, for example, usually allow for communal and communicative viewing.) Perhaps the most baffling behavior I exhibit in cinemas is watching the entire film, from studio logo to studio logo.

In other words, I watch the credits.

Even the theatre personnel find this unaccountably annoying. I once actually chose to take transit home in a new city (which took long hours and much confusion) instead of ride in the car I came in with the people who had been reentering the screening room every thirty seconds to tell me the movie was over.

But that’s just the thing: the movie was not over. The credits are part of the movie. You, too, should watch the credits whenever (at the very least) you have gone to the cinema to see a film. Why? Glad you asked.

Attention must be paid.

This, the recurring refrain in Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman, is the most important thing to keep in mind.

Hundreds of people worked very hard under bad conditions with horrible corporate oversight to make the film you just watched. They often put in more hours for a longer period of time than any of the actors. Their jobs are often more relevant to your enjoyment of the film than the onscreen talent. Watch one badly-edited movie, and you will never forget to thank the editor of a film whose cutting was invisible to the ordinary eye.

You will not know these names. The more you watch credits, however, the more you will get to know them. If you don’t recall seeing the names Ellen Lewis or Ellen Chenoweth, you have been spectacularly bad at reading the credits. But—just think—wouldn’t it be nice to have some familiarity with the names of the majority of the winners on Oscar night? Wouldn’t it make you care about them and what they do more? Wouldn’t you soon know what composers, directors of photography, etc. you liked? Wouldn’t that help you choose films more shrewdly in the future?

I won’t let you off with rhetorical questions, though. Just imagine putting all your energy and sanity into a project for three years and not getting any…credit. You can’t read every name. You won’t catch every job. But you will have given those spectacularly gifted people five minutes of your time in exchange for their toil.

The credits are a transitional activity.

I don’t know how anyone can pull their brain, soul, and body out of a film with one jerk and walk away. I trust that some personality types can do this more easily, but I need time to transition out of the artwork and back into the physical world. If the film is good enough, the credits don’t even allow the time needed for this transition. At times, I have driven half an hour home before I become aware of what I’m doing. Better to sit it out, talk it out, cry it out…

Again, imagine you have used years of painstaking training to prepare an elaborate and perfect dinner for someone. Now, watch them nibble your food as they talk about nothing. Watch them get up mid-entrée to go to the washroom. Watch them hop up from the table and stride away without finishing, without a nod in your direction. They haven’t experienced the dinner you made for them. Yes, food is almost essentially social, and I’m not saying that you can’t fellowship while you eat. But take the time to taste the food you paid for.

With the average film, the time it takes to watch the credits is almost exactly the time it takes to rejoin reality. Avail yourself of it. Watch the film as long as you’re able, and then let your head clear while what you have experienced sinks in.

You want some of the information.

Yes, you will see information you will otherwise go look up on IMDb. The best example of this is the song credits toward the end of the scroll. Oh, that song was by her? When did they play that one? Look, the director wrote the lyrics for that! You may not care who did craft service, but there will often be something you’re glad to have seen.

The credits can be fun.

It is always a great time to scan the job titles and names as they scroll past. You will see some ridiculous examples of each. You will see your uncle’s name randomly appear. You’ll say, “That film had a honey wrangler?” There is so much richness that you miss skipping the credits. I love to say certain names aloud, roll them around in my mouth. I love to learn the strange little jobs that are involved in the making of a movie. I love to see that the grip’s nickname is Monkeybox. And that’s just the serious credits.

Many films have what I call “wink credits.” These may be straight-out jokes and puns. They may be creative job titling. They may be callbacks to the movie’s themes or lines. Just last night, I rewatched No Country for Old Men and discovered that someone is credited as “The Only Right Tool” (a line from Javier Bardem’s villain).

Sometimes the wink is unintentional. Have you met the conservation officer, Mr. Lovegreen? He exists. One impactful coincidence is in Hirozaku Kore-eda’s Nobody Knows, which is about four children abandoned to fend for themselves. As it turns out, the actress who played their mother goes by the single name, “You.” In Japan, this is pronounced differently and means something different, but for English-speaking audiences, we are unexpectedly faced with the indictment that we are all culpable for a society in which the smallest lives get overlooked and wasted.

The credits are part of the movie.

Sure, it has become rather common to put stinger scenes or bloopers at the end of the credits. But even without them, you will not get the full movie experience as intended by the director without watching the credits. Listen to the music—or lack thereof. Sometimes, as in Children of Men or Inception, essential sounds emerge that change the understanding of the film. Think about these choices. Let the music shape your takeaways. There is little as satisfying as the way a film folds together in image, time, and sound as the credits end. Don’t miss that beauty.