Ask Pappy #2: The credits aren’t the end, they’re the thank you note.

Reader Letter:

My friends always get up as soon as the credits start. Meanwhile, I like to sit there and read the names — maybe it’s just habit, but it feels respectful, you know? They tease me for it, but I don’t know… those names matter. Does that make me weird? — Nina L.

Weird? Kid, that makes you the only one left in the theater who still remembers what respect looks like.

I read your letter and near teared up — which, for me, is dangerous business ‘cause tears and popcorn salt don’t mix. You’re not weird; you’re right. Those names scrolling by? That’s the real movie magic right there.

See, most folks think a film ends when the hero kisses the girl, the monster dies, or the spaceship explodes. But for me, it ends about five minutes later — right when the names start rolling. That’s when you meet the people who made it all happen: the gaffers, grips, sound mixers, caterers — the heartbeat of the picture.

Back when I ran a projector, I used to know some of those names. Not personally, mind you, but in spirit. There’s an art to the unglamorous work. The lighting assistant who saved a shot at 3 A.M. The prop master who found the right ashtray. The intern who spent six months labeling drives so the editor wouldn’t lose their mind. You’ll never see their faces on a poster, but you feel them in every frame.

Walking out during the credits is like leaving a concert before the band plays the encore. Or worse — leaving grandma’s house before she brings out dessert. You can do it, sure, but why would you?

Now, don’t get me wrong — I understand your friends. The movie’s over, the popcorn’s gone, and they’ve got places to be. But you, my friend, you stay. You linger. You give those names their due. That’s not weird — that’s reverence.

And every now and then, if you sit long enough, the theater empties, the lights come up soft, and it’s just you and the music and those names floating up like ghosts. That’s the part I miss most about working the booth — that quiet after the storm. So next time your pals rush for the exits, you tell ‘em Pappy said this: You don’t leave before the credits because you’re weird — you stay because you care.

Stay kind, stay curious, and don’t spill the butter on your way out.— Pappy Hull, The Popcorn Philosopher