Movie Theatres Aren't Going Anywhere
Watching a film in a theatre is not…just about watching a film. It’s a social activity. It's how we fall in love, forget the mundane-ness of life, and catch-up with friends.
(Photo Courtesy: Steve McCurry)
“You want to go watch a movie?” If I make a list of sentences that have the power to banish a bad day for me instantly, this one question would possibly be at the top. I love watching films; and I especially love watching them in a theatre. Sitting in a darkened theatre, forgetting the world and its warts for a few hours, planning interval snacks (“popcorn toh banta hai!”), nudging your companion with random commentary (“this is that guy from that show, na?”) and the feeling of welcoming the world again after you exit a theatre… If it’s not clear enough already, I love watching films in a theatre.
Which is why, I know that they are not going anywhere.
The COVID-19 pandemic has led to many declarations of the demise of movie theatres. Everyone is insistent that with OTT platforms giving us the biggest stars, and best storylines, in the comforts of their home, who will bother going to the theatre? And why?
The answer to the “why” is simple enough: Because watching a film in a theatre is not…just about watching a film.
It’s a social activity.
For my Masters’ thesis in 2016, I analyzed young women watching films on their mobile phones. I had a simple question. Why do people condense the 60mm experience to a 6-inch-phone screen. And some 30,000 words later, I came up with a simple answer: convenience. It’s convenient to watch a film whenever you want; while you travel in the Metro, cook food, browse through Instagram, whatever.
But during my fieldwork, whenever I would ask which way to watch a film is preferred the most (mobile, laptop or theatre), the theatre would win. Every time.Because even for the young woman who uses her 2-hour commute to watch a film every day, the theatre is when she can watch a film and have a social life.
The easiest way to ask out anyone? Ask them if they want to watch a movie. Bunch of friends looking for a weekend plan? Picture dekhne chalte hain. Tired with work and want to do something? Book a film ticket.
The social associations with watching a film — where you feel a part of a community, where the movie is a way to establish a relationship, where watching a film is a leisure activity – cannot be replaced by OTT platforms. It’s the same argument that came to the fore when TV became ubiquitous in India in the 90s. People looked at the wonders of television, and asked who will go to a theatre. But, the theatre didn’t die out.
What is dying out is a certain kind of theatre. A theatre which is affordable and accessible to all. The coming in of multiplexes, and far too expensive popcorn, may have attached an aspirational angle to watching a film. But it has excluded so many people who go to the theatre to live, love and take a break from the mundane-ness of life.
If I look back at my most treasured film-watching experience, it didn’t happen at a mall. It was in a single-screen Amba Theatre on GT Road near the Delhi University campus, where we sat on massively uncomfortable chairs and saw Yash Chopra’s “Jab Tak Hai Jaan.” SRK didn’t get as many cheers as Katrina Kaif, and the film was unwatchable. (And I say this as a SRK-fan, sigh.)
But sitting in that theatre, I felt like I was a part of a community. A hodge-podge, unlikely community of people. Who sit in a darkened room, leave the outside world behind, get lost in the world of fictional people who can make you laugh or cry, and be amazed at the glorious 60mm miracle of cinema.
It’s the closest you can come to magic in a world that increasingly seems to be heading towards despair. And when the theatres do return properly, as I am sure they will, I can’t wait to experience that magic. (And grudgingly pay for popcorn.)
Before we go to links of the week, two things.
I wrote a chapter based on my thesis on watching films on mobile phones, for a an anthology of essays on digital media published by Orient BlackSwann. You can buy the book here.
I realised I never shared that I am doing a podcast on this newsletter! Well, I am. It’s called “The Oversmart Girls Podcast,” I host it with my friend and all-round-cool person Shivani Sharma, we are seven episodes down, and we have been told we’re funny. (We think so, too.)
Links of the Week:
If you listen to podcasts, you’ve probably heard of New York Times’ award-winning podcast “Caliphate” reported by Rukmini Callimachi. An investigative look into life inside ISIS, “Caliphate” set the tone on non-fiction audio storytelling. And now, it’s been reported that it was…fiction. This is a great reminder of why journalism must look beyond “rockstars” in the field, and editors must go beyond the "story they want.” Do read this piece by Ben Smith in the New York Times on this mess; my jaw dropped several times.
“The Times was looking for one thing: evidence that the Canadian’s story was true. In Manbij, Mr. Flood wandered the marketplace until a gold merchant warned him that his questions were attracting dangerous attention, prompting him to quickly board a bus out of town. Across the Middle East, other Times reporters were also asked to find confirmation of the source’s ties to ISIS, and communicated in WhatsApp channels with names like “Brilliant Seekers” and “New emir search.” But instead of finding Abu Huzayfah’s emir, they found that ISIS defectors had never heard of him.”
Scaachi Koul writes in Buzzfeed News on men, good PR, and their apologies for sexual assault, taking the example of Shia LaBeouf and the horrific accusations against him. Believe women, and take men’s apologies with a pinch of salt.
“People do change — except when they don’t. Last week, we were reminded, yet again, that just because a man has moved on from the allegations of abuse against him — usually by ignoring them, waiting for the public to forget, or even by making art as a way to ask for forgiveness — doesn’t mean we have to move on along with him.”
I am getting back to running, yes even in Delhi’s freezing winter, which means this old-but-gold piece in the New Yorker on running by Haruki Murakami is being re-read. I don’t like his fiction, but I loved this piece, and his book on running.
“That’s why I’ve never recommended running to others. If someone has an interest in long-distance running, he’ll start running on his own. If he’s not interested in it, no amount of persuasion will make any difference. Marathon running is not a sport for everyone, just as being a novelist isn’t a job for everyone. Nobody ever recommended or even suggested that I be a novelist—in fact, some tried to stop me. I simply had the idea to be one, and that’s what I did. People become runners because they’re meant to. “
Books I Read This Week:
A Patchwork Quilt by Sai Paranjpye: I have been a Sai Paranjpye fan for a while and I thoroughly enjoyed reading her memoir. So rarely we see a woman look back on her creative legacy, and what an incredible legacy Paranjpye has! If you haven’t heard of her before, I recommend watching Chashme Buddoor.
Broken Harbour by Tana French: Have I mentioned how much I love crime thrillers? I do. And Tana French is a damn master at it. This is the fourth book in her Dublin Murder series, and again, I was up till 4 am reading it. Highly recommend.
That’s it from me for this week!
I had always thought I would never be the kind of person who gets wrist pain due to work, but I have become that person this week. If you have any ideas on how to fix that, and other thoughts on this newsletter, hit that “Reply” button. As always, I would love to hear from you.
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