The Death of Cinema?

I’ve read or heard that prognostication several times recently: that cinema is a dying art form, and going to the movies will eventually become a thing of the past. Not being a frequent movie goer myself, I’m part of the problem, not that I want to be. As much as cinema has suffered in the wake of the global pandemic and the advent of affordable, passable home theater systems and umpteen inch TVs…oh, and streaming services, I’d like to think cinema is making a comeback and has been for over a year now.

I wax nostalgic about coming of age in the ‘70s and being just old enough to hang out at the movies sans parents, just in time for May, 1977, when a movie premiered telling the saga of a boy coming of age in a galaxy far, far away, a fun film called Star Wars. Maybe you’ve heard of it? This was back when a kid without an allowance could shell out a few bucks for admission, pop, and popcorn and not go broke.

Briarwood Mall Theaters, back when the ticket kiosk was in the middle of that arm of the mall, apart from the theaters themselves. I’d be lying if I said I can still imagine the smell of the popcorn being synonymous with the Empire, rebellion, and Jedi Knights. I will tell you that it took decades of life for that association to fade.

I spent a good chunk of my teenage life at the theater, watching movies first run whenever they caught my attention, and they often caught my attention. It wasn’t just science fiction or fantasy, either. My taste in movies was eclectic from an early age. I liked a captivating story, whether in space or contemporaneous to me on earth. I laugh when I think about taking a girl I liked on a date to dinner and an adult drama, Alan Alda style, called The Four Seasons. This was after the State Theater, once a single screen theater with a balcony from the Golden Age of Hollywood, was split into three—or was it four—separate screens.

I enjoyed the movie. Her: not so much. We were silent on the drive to drop her off at her house. She told me she needed to get up before dawn on Sunday for a Sunday paper route before church…

I digress. I blew my chance with a girl I’d been crushing on for months. I blame my early, unwitting cinephile self for not better reading the audience.

I have so many great memories of going to the movies. These are mostly from my youth, but also from the days when I was dating my soon-to-be wife. Or even before I met her. I wasn’t adverse to going to a movie alone. I enjoyed my own company when I had no one else to go with.

My lifelong passion for the movies didn’t end when I could own them on VHS and, eventually DVD and Blu-Ray. Now we have high definition streaming. I have a tough time keeping up with the options.

But what is this about the death of cinema? I refer to experts in the field like renowned screenwriter and lecturer Robert McKee, who said on a recent Rich Roll podcast that the cinematic experience is suffering thanks to the pandemic and streaming services.

Although studios are no longer doing it, they were simultaneously releasing first runs at the theaters and on services like (HBO) Max. Dune: Part 1 comes to mind because it was the first big release I saw after moving to Asheville, once I was discharged from a year of rehabilitation.

I wasn’t yet ready to venture out to the theater, still being worried about the pandemic. I instead bought a 65” TV and home theater setup and watched the movie that way.

It wasn’t until the spring of ‘22 that I was ready to return to the theater for the first time since my accident. I regrettably cannot remember the first movie I saw that spring, but I can’t forget the second one, a movie sometimes credited with resurrecting a blockbuster theater-only audience: Top Gun: Maverick.

You’ve probably guessed by now that this post isn’t intended to be a researched essay on The Death of Cinema. That’s not what I write my blog. I write just to express personal observations. Sometimes I’ll toss in cited sources. More often I won’t. I’m not aiming for a NYT byline. Not here anyway.

End delayed disclaimer…

Back to the return of Tom Cruise’s Pete “Maverick” Mitchell to the big screen. Like him or not, Cruise did Hollywood cinema a favor by waiting out the pandemic until the numbers justified insisting on a theatrical-only release. Waiting paid off, not just for Paramount, but for the industry as a whole.

I served in the Air Force. I know what it’s like to be near a jet when the pilot increases to military thrust and punches afterburners. You feel it in your body and bones as much as hear it through two layers of hearing protection. After everything I’d read about Maverick’s theatrical release, I knew that the big screen experience wasn’t to be missed.

I paid extra for the premium sound experience, RPX. There are speakers in the seats. It’s no stretch when I say that experience was worth it. As soon as those F/A-18 Super Hornets throttled up during the opening sequence, I knew I’d come to the right place, the cinema.

But it’s not only about the incredible carnival experience the big screen and sound can provide; no matter what anyone says, a home theater will be hard pressed to provide a similar experience. Going to the theater gets to the very core of what it means to be human. We all love a great story well told. Sharing in that experience with an audience of strangers adds something intangible but magical.

So is cinema in its death throes? I sure as hell hope not! There’s too much humanity to be shared, together in a cool, dark place once those credits start rolling. The pandemic was a gut punch to some theaters—my favorite multiplex back home in Ann Arbor closed and was demolished.

And though I support the SAG and writers strikes, they were either well timed or poorly timed, depending on your perspective. There is leverage for the unions, emerging from the pandemic. But then can the industry as a whole survive another jab when it’s already on the ropes? Time will tell.

I personally don’t think cinema is dead. Nor is it dying. It’s had to reinvent itself to compete with the increasing fidelity and production values of the streaming services. We’re human. We thrive on narrative. We’ll always seek entertainment, living by proxy through the lives of characters that are larger than life. Where else can we fully experience being James Bond or Ethan Hunt?

Will cinema be around in 50 years? Hard to say. But that’s a topic for another day, how advanced 3D, IMAX, and virtual reality will impact the industry. Let’s just say I believe cinematic storytelling will still exist. What delivery systems it will use is anyone’s guess.

But then, I’ll be gone in 50 years. Maybe we’ll all be on the verge of extinction. Yet another blog post. OK. Shutting up now. Thanks for reading.