Back to the movies
Returning to the multiplex in the age of COVID.
Last weekend, for the first time in nearly a year, I went to the movies.
My son turned 9 at the end of January, and my wife and I were trying to figure out a fun, safe way to celebrate. We usually do a sleepover preceded by some sort of event with his buddies; last year, we went bowling. The previous year, we went swimming at the rec center. Both options, for obvious reasons, were out of the question this year.
Instead, we decided to rent a private theater at our local AMC. They were offering a pretty good deal; depending on what movie you saw, it was either $145 (for a new release) or $99 (for select older films), and you could have as many as 20 people go with you. Michigan just loosened its restrictions on indoor dining at the beginning of the month, which meant we could also snack on popcorn. For not much more than we’d pay to send everyone bowling or rent a room at the rec center, we could all go to the movies and feel a bit like normal — without the fear of mingling with strangers.
It had been almost exactly a year since I’d been to the movies; as it happens, also with Mickey, for a Saturday matinee of Sonic the Hedgehog before COVID was confirmed in our state. As you can imagine, I was excited about the prospect of returning in a way that was safe and could give us all a fun, memorable experience. We went through the list of potential movies, and I briefly hoped we’d go for Raiders of the Lost Ark or Back to the Future before my wife reminded me that Mickey is a bit too young for Raiders’ head-exploding finale and Future’s dicier plot specifics. I worried that he would pick The War With Grandpa or Jurassic World. Instead, he picked John G. Avildsen’s 1984 family sports drama The Karate Kid, which we had just watched about a month ago at home but that he was quite taken with.
Doing the private booking works pretty much just like going to a regular movie. I purchased the rental online a few weeks ago, and all we had to do was show up at the theater 15 minutes before showtime. Aside from the fact that we were all wearing face masks, there wasn’t really any difference to the viewing experience. We had some trailers, a short promo from AMC to teach us about safe viewing protocol, and then we were traveling from New Jersey to California with Daniel LaRusso.
Pre-pandemic, going to the movies was a regular part of my weekly routine. Whether going to a press screening, taking my wife or kids to a show, or slipping into an early Saturday show to catch up on something, I was at the movies an average of once a week. It was a regular part of my life since I’d gotten a driver’s license. In the days before marriage and kids, it wasn’t rare to see me at a press screening or at my local theater upwards of two to three times a week, sometimes seeing several films in one visit. It made up the fabric of my days.
And so going back to that AMC multiplex last Saturday felt like returning home. I’ve written before about how being away from movie theaters for the last 11 months has changed my viewing habits. I’m watching more older films, and I’m less swayed by marketing for the latest big thing, which has led me to more eclectic choices. But when the lights went down and the movie started, I knew I’d been missing something. At home, there are so many distractions. The dog barks, the kids need something, I obsessively check my phone, or we get pulled into side conversations. In the theater, the movie dominates. The house lights go down, the sound cranks up and your field of vision is taken up by a story. This is how movies should be seen.
But I was also reminded how powerful the entire experience is, both as a communal activity and a sensory one. Laughter at a good joke, cheers at a victorious moment. Sharing a Coke with my wife, my arm around her, both of us happy to be out of the house for an evening. The smell of popcorn wafting in from the lobby. The theater walls vibrating when the sound cranks up. Whispered commentary in the row behind us, or excited jabber from the kids a few rows back (okay, in normal days, I don’t let the talking slide. But for this, I made an exception). Turning to everyone as you file out as the credits play, eager to know what your friends thought of the movie. Passing by posters in the lobby to see what can get you there next. Damn, I missed this.
And by the way, The Karate Kid plays so well for a group. The kids, of course, loved watching Daniel learn from Mister Miyagi and prove himself against Johnny Lawrence (and those who’d seen Cobra Kai got a kick out of seeing the origin story). The adults enjoyed the gentle humor and the nostalgia, relishing every famous line, from “wax on, wax off” to “get him a body bag.” I appreciated anew this movie’s patience, the way it focuses just as much on Daniel’s plight with the bullies, his budding relationship with Allie, or the tender friendship between him and Mr. Miyagi as it does on karate fights (which it largely holds off on until the ending). So many family movies these days are a strung together collection of hijinx and set pieces; The Karate Kid is a real movie, and it’s extremely well done. This was a great way to come back to the theater.
Still, I would be lying if I didn’t admit that there was something bittersweet and sad about it. The experience has undergone changes, and face masks are the least of it (for the record, I barely noticed the mask during the movie). Yes, there were reminders of the pandemic everywhere; signs to mask up and socially distance as you entered the theater. Floor markers in the concession stands. You couldn’t grab your own candy from a display case or put on your own butter; concession staff had to do it for you. But that’s all the necessary work of operating a business in a pandemic.
What stood out most was the emptiness. Michigan restrictions currently limit theater capacity to 20%, but I’d be shocked if a single theater was near that capacity. The parking lot had maybe 20 cars outside of the 20-screen multiplex. It was 7:15 p.m. on a Saturday, and there were no lines at the box office or concession stand, no one walking down the hallways. By 9:30 p.m., as we were leaving, the vestibule near the ticket counter was dark, the video games turned off, and the concession stand closed down. It was surreal; on a typical Saturday night, even in February, this place was hopping.
I don’t think it was necessarily empty due to fear of the pandemic; on our way to the theater, I noticed the parking lots of most restaurants were pretty full. I think it’s a number of things. Caution is likely part of it, and I can’t blame that. After all, theaters have been reopened for over a month in Michigan, and this was my first time coming back. But I think the way the pandemic has altered the release schedule plays a roll, too. There’s simply nothing new out that people are enticed to see. Studios’ willingness to debut movies on demand and streaming means people don’t have to venture out to see the newest releases; in cases where movies go strictly to theaters, there’s a certain stigma attached. Movies that are exclusively theatrical these days, ironically, are often ones the studios are trying hard to bury. And while I think studios aren’t trying hard enough to get some of their classic vintage titles into theaters, I don’t know how much that would entice people. Why head out, particularly in a pandemic, to watch a movie that you can not only watch at home, but one you’ve seen a dozen times?
I don’t think this is the end of the theatrical experience. Eventually, the pandemic will end, restrictions will go back and big releases will return. My belief is that once that happens, there’s going to be a big desire for massive communal experiences. People will want to be with other people; I’ve told my wife that once we get the vaccine and things start rolling back, we’re going to every concert and ballgame. And I think movies, that most popular communal activity, will be a big draw, particularly the big events. People are hungry for that experience again. Whether it can ultimately be sustained now that events also hit HBO Max and Disney+ regularly, I don’t quite know; but my hunch is studios will find a way to maintain balance.
But until then, what happens? How does this industry stay afloat until then? After all, no one’s going to ring a bell and tell everyone it’s safe to get back in the pool. Some states will emerge from the pandemic sooner than others. Do studios start releasing movies in a regional, roadshow format? Will we continue to see big releases pushed back until it’s all clear across the nation? And if so, how do theater chains sustain limited viewership until they have a supply of the movies people are actually excited for?
I don’t know, and I’m glad that’s not the industry I’m in. I think private theater rentals are a step in the right direction, and as people slowly begin to acclimate toward getting together in trusted groups again, I think it’s a canny way to welcome them back. When the weather warms up, I hope more theaters will find innovative ways to do drive-ins and outdoor screenings. In areas where the pandemic starts to roll out and restrictions are loosened, I hope studios get a bit more intentional with their vintage releases. Toss Jurassic Park and Independence Day onto IMAX. Give the Lord of the Rings movies a more sustained rerelease, not the once-a-week event we have now. I know Disney has a streaming service to feed, but how many people would flock out to a weekly re-release of every movie in the Marvel Cinematic Universe or another go-round with the Star Wars saga? And independent theaters, who will be hurt the most by this, need some sort of support, and I’d urge anyone who is comfortable with going back to the theaters to consider making their local art house their first stop.
As for me, does this mean I’m back to the movies? I don’t know. Right now, that supply isn’t quite there. There are great movies coming out; today, Judas and the Black Messiah and Minari hit theaters, and you can now see my favorite film of 2020, Nomadland, in IMAX. But not only are these films I’ve seen already, they can be viewed via streaming platforms. Judas is on HBO Max, Minari can be streamed through A24’s website; Nomadland will hit Hulu later this month. That will likely be the case for many new releases for awhile. And the truth is, I’ll probably lean on the side of safety and convenience, even if I know that’s not the best experience.
But getting that taste of a big-screen experience was powerful. And it felt safe; heck, with these low capacities, theaters might be the safest place to be, so long as you’re wearing a mask and social distancing. And so, who knows? Maybe if I have a few free hours and something catches my eye, I’ll head to a screening and take in a show, just to show support. Because I was reminded how much I love this experience, and I don’t want it to go away.
The Digest
Where you can find me this week
We’re Watching Here podcast: Perry and I continue our 2020 catchup, and I think we’ll be doing that for the next few months, up until the Oscars. There’s a lot of good stuff to catch up on. When we planned this episode, we hadn’t meant for it to sync up with Black History Month, but it was a nice little twist of fate that it did. This week, we talk three new movies from Black directors about the Black experience in America. And all three movies — Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, One Night in Miami, and Judas and the Black Messiah — are must-sees that you can watch from home now, on Netflix, Amazon Prime and HBO Max, respectively. The latter two in particular are great movies, fueled by strong direction and even stronger performances. I won’t say more, because Perry and I talk about them for over an hour. But man, are these movies worth that time. Available on iTunes, Spotify and online.
Chrisicisms
The pop culture I’m consuming
Heaven’s Gate: The Cult of Cults: This week’s Chrisicisms section is shorter just because the movies I’ve been watching are talked about at length on We’re Watching Here. But I did want to mention this four-part HBO Max documentary series, which talks about the Heaven’s Gate cult, whose members committed a mass suicide in 1997. I was a senior in high school when that happened, and I can recall the footage vividly. This series explores the group’s history from its origins in the mid-1970s to that day in 1997, interviewing sociologists, former members and family of victims. It’s easy to just stare slack-jawed at the cult itself, whose adherents believed they would be taken up into a UFO and changed into new beings. But Heaven’s Gate isn’t gawking; it also explores how people get caught up in cult beliefs and how rational people can often believe irrational things, an idea that is particularly resonant these days.
Night Stalker: Here’s the series that gawks. While I like a good true crime podcast or documentary just as much as most people, I’ve never really gotten into the whole serial killer craze. It’s just a brand of evil I don’t really like to spend time encountering, and the constant dwelling on bloody crime scene photos and grisly details is always a bit unseemly. But my Cross.Culture.Critic. co-host Joe had recommended this to me and, at four episodes on Netflix, I decided to give it a try. Yes, it’s lurid and sordid, and I did feel queasy viewing the graphic photos. But it’s a focused, fast-paced crime story I knew nothing about, despite it’s notoriety, and I have to say I was sucked in. The Night Stalker is a particularly evil individual, his crimes so outside the pale that I had trouble grasping how one man could do all of that. But the documentary series is also balanced by the way it studies the smart detective work that led to the Richard Ramirez’s identification and eventual capture, and the way he was caught provides a cathartic punch I hadn’t expected. If you like the whole serial killer thing, you’ll probably enjoy this. And if you don’t, it’s just shocking enough to hook you.
That’s it! We’ll be back next week!