In a world without COVID-19, the 2020 summer movie season would've been kicking off in the United States tonight with the release of Marvel's hotly anticipated Black Widow. While it goes without saying that the delay, if not full-blown cancellation of summer movie season isn't even close to the most pressing issue in the current climate, it's days like today where the absence of fresh, exciting pieces of escapism from the grimness of reality particularly stings.
The seemingly endless list of horrors that this pandemic has offered up are going to have ripple effects long after the virus itself has been eradicated. Not only it is difficult to predict what human behavior will look like post COVID-19, but there are serious questions surrounding what businesses will be able to remain in tact after dealing with an unprecedented level of economic hardship. Among the top institutions at risk of completely disappearing as a result of the pandemic is movie theaters.
Attendance has been on the decline over the past few years as streaming services have gained popularity and months upon months of lost revenue, especially during a time of the year that is traditionally among their most profitable, is the type of hurdle they may not be able to recover from. How theaters perform upon re-opening along with the burning question of whether the success the titles-most notably Trolls World Tour, which has reportedly netted Universal roughly $100 million since it came out on April 10th-released through on demand video services is simply a product of these times where people are stuck at home or the unexpected start of a new permeant release strategy could ultimately dictates their long-term fate. Even the prospect of movie theaters disappearing for good is incredibly depressing to me, so that's why I decided to write about why they mean so much to me and my hope that they'll be able to persevere through the most difficult time in modern history.
This pro-theater stance is by no means an attack on streaming. The emergence of streaming services have been a terrific addition to the entertainment ecosystem. The convenience is unmatched, they give exposure to non-blockbuster titles that otherwise wouldn't have reached such a wide audience and the total creative freedom these platforms (especially Netflix) give writers/directors is a refreshing departure from the ill-advised meddling that longtime major distributors engage in on certain projects. That being said, an entertainment landscape where streaming is the only method of releasing content would suck a considerable amount of joy out of the world of movies.
No matter how solid the quality of the streaming output on the whole is right now, there are certain aspects of the theatrical experience that just can't be topped. I'll start with a nitpicky preference that almost definitely won't apply to a lot of people: The theatrical setting is far more ideal setting for commanding undivided attention on a product. While the ability to freely pause something when you have to go to the bathroom, get snacks or a drink, etc. and eliminating the potential for the inconsiderate behavior of some a-hole stranger to derail the whole viewing experience is great, being in the confines of your home invites distractions to enter the equation that at the very least shouldn't exist at the theater.
Whenever I'm watching something that I actively dislike at home, the feeling that I'm wasting my time can become unbearable and I'm likely to start spacing out or even doing shit (sending texts, mindlessly surfing the internet on my laptop) that I would NEVER do in a theater. On the rare occasions I've watched something with a group at somebody's house, there can also be the problem of people feeling compelled to have full-blown conversations in the middle of the movie. Obviously theaters don't eliminate this behavior completely, but I've found that it greatly reduces it-especially now since the people that are attending movies more than likely really want to be there.
Then of course there is the actual technical setups of a theater. As hard as companies try, there is no HD resolution quality, soundbar or other piece of home entertainment equipment that can match the towering screens, digital projectors and unreal sound systems most theaters possess. There are a decent amount of titles that hit theaters don't benefit from being seen with these state-of-the-art specs, but for films that are designed to be visual or visceral spectacles such as 1917, Ford v. Ferrari or any of the Fast and Furious films released in the past decade just wouldn't have the same impact on a 52-inch screen in someone's den.
As much as I value those aspects of theaters, that's not what inspires me to frequent them. The primary appeal of movie theaters is the communal experience that comes with it. Getting to bask in the energy and emotion that comes with watching a movie with an engaged crowd is so, so special. I'll never forget the opening night screening of Get Out where the audience cheered, yelled and gasped throughout. I'll never forget missing about a quarter of the dialogue in Superbad due to laughter drowning out the audio. I'll never forget the sporting event-esque atmosphere that filled the room during Avengers: Endgame. I'll never forget the raucous applause that broke out when Hitler got brutally killed in Inglorious Basterds. I'll never forget the two dudes who sat next to me during Cats and frequently reacted with visible disbelief/confusion that they were actually witnessing a movie about horny singing CGI felines that had the faces of several A-list celebrities begging for the sweet release of death. Nothing in the world can replicate sharing laughs, surprise, enthusiasm or tears with your fellow humans and imagining that going away is just devastating.
Whether it be the theater owner's current targeted reopening date of mid-July or any other time in the future where it's deemed safe enough to gather in small, socially-distanced groups, I'll relish any opportunity to step foot into a movie theater again. Escapism is as an essential tool to navigating the tragic pitfalls that fill life and for me, movie theaters might as well be fucking Narnia. It's a magical land where liquid butter fills the air, '90s arcade machines provides an ambiance that is akin to a sketchy waterfront arcade and the carpets are covered with substances that I'd rather not know about. If I get to walk through the neon-illuminated entrance and ride a semi-functional escalator up to a massive multiplex paradise where memorable entertainment could be waiting behind every auditorium door again, I'll be nothing short of delighted and grateful.
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