The Magic of the Movie-Going
Rebuilding my relationship with movies and the cinema in a post-lockdown world.
Debbie Ogunsanwo
Cinema trips are magical—from queuing up at the box office for middle-row tickets to buying warm, buttery popcorn before reclining in the velvety red seats—the entire process is just as much of an event as the film itself. But in a post-COVID world, there is a newfound value to the experience that makes it one to cherish all the more. COVID-19 significantly impacted the film industry, leaving many productions shut down, alongside cinemas that had to end showings of films amidst their theatrical runs. With little entertainment available during lockdown, many turned to the overwhelming amount of movies on streaming services to mediate mental health struggles and the mundanity of the period.
However, this didn’t always work for me as binge-watching helped pass the time but hardly provided the same enjoyment as the week-to-week series or weekly cinema trips I was used to. Just as big cinema chains struggled greatly (and independent theatres even more), so did the viewers who depended on the cinema as a source of comfort and an expansion of their cinematic palette.
The pandemic meant viewers had to turn to a modified version of their delights—one mediated through smaller screens—trapped behind ever-increasing paywalls from competing streaming services like Netflix, Amazon Prime and Disney+. If you're trying to be cost-effective, deciding on just one streaming service often limits the scope of films you can access. Having my cinematic experience clouded this way for so long made my return to the movie theatre all the more exciting.
I remember my trip to see Shannon Murphy’s Babyteeth (2019) in perfect detail and all the excitement and nervousness I felt on the train journey there. In light of the fact that one of my closest friends had just been diagnosed with cancer at the time, having my cinephile family present at the still-eerie screening felt comforting. I remember taking in the space, enjoying the feeling of being back in a cinema, staring at the vivid colours and the serene Sydney coastline on a large screen before the events of the film unfolded in front of me.
One of the byproducts of the pandemic is that there's been a rise in digital-only releases due to the increase in home viewing. Not to mention that the film screening window in theatres has substantially decreased, with more films than ever hitting VOD (video on demand) within weeks or a month of being in cinemas. Universal Studios, for example, changed their theatrical window from 90 days to 17 days, mainly because it was more cost-effective for them.
Yet, for me, the magic of the movie-going experience is not simply a luxury but something that is often intimately enmeshed with the magic of the film itself. Seeing Rye Lane a few months ago exemplified this— the smooth-flowing romance plot was punctuated with humour, evident in the continuous collective roars of laughter from the audience. It is one thing to be enraptured by the beauty of Blackness and romance on screen, but it is another to feel the same joy of others next to you coterminous with your own. My chaotic five-star Letterboxd review is a testament to Raine-Allen Miller's directorial genius, the talent of the actors and crew, and my personal experience of the film as an event shared with others in the cinema space.
Watching Wong Kar-wai's 2000 classic In the Mood for Love at the Prince Charles Cinema recently returns me to this. Moving away from small screens back to the fully immersive space of the cinema is a magical act of transportation that lands you in the world of a film in a way that my small bedroom never quite could. The cinema's nostalgic feel and indie aesthetic add excitement to the experience. Watching couples nestle into each other as they watch the gorgeously saturated colours radiate from the screen truly sets the mood for the film, with their shadowy silhouettes outlined in a deep red. As the film ends, I overhear someone explaining how much they love those closing scenes in Cambodia. The scenes do indeed look magnificent, especially because it's a 4k digital restoration—a fact which I tell myself just about makes up for the steep price of my £14 cinema ticket.
Though it's obvious that you need not spend your life's savings on cinema tickets to experience the beauty of a film, it's also clear just how a cinema trip in its entirety can shape your understanding and appreciation of it. From the moments of connection felt when cinema audiences laugh or sniffle-sob in unison to the overhearing of heated debates about the meaning or value of a film as you leave the theatre, all these seemingly small occurrences create the beauty of the cinema experience. The future of cinema and theatrical releases is unknown, and whether they are to become a thing of the past is left for speculation. However, for as long as I can, I will hold on to the magic that the cinematic experience (and £5 under-25 cinema tickets) has to offer me and everyone I share it with.
