As lockdown began, I commented to a then closing public venue that during the last war, our cinemas had been a source of succour. They continued throughout those years of disruption and conflict (in so many uses of the word). And yet, during this time that has oft been compared to war – and I am seeing more analogies – cinemas were one of the first things to shut and the last to re-open. Theatres are only now beginning to announce dates.
Deprived of a favourite past time, along with so many others, I mused on what movies give to us, to me. In my novel, Parallel Spirals, I feature a story within a story about the power of cinema. Like attending live arts, it can be a compelling experience that isn’t matched at home. It is the solidarity with strangers which is part of that power. As I deliberate in my sequel (hoping to finish my draft within a week), it is that collective hush, that shared viewing in the dark which bonds us, even if we do not speak. We have a more intense encounter with the film because of being in that dark large room, with the story ‘thrown as particles of light for all to see’. (That’s from my first novel).
Cinema is something to share with those close to you, but it can also be an activity with those not so close. It is literally companionable silence, whether you’re watching something that’s a deep expression of likemindedness, or thing to do with someone that you don’t easily share conversation with. Now you’ve something to talk about!
If one goes often, you can feel a sense of community with staff and other cinema goers, especially in older and artier cinemas. I’ve enjoyed interactions with those next to me or with the usher. Some cinemas have a regular matinee or older persons, or parent and child or autistic screenings. Film clubs are another kind of public cinematic experience, often ruder stables – suspended sheets, harder chairs and no raking. The room may be colder. But that is another way where the watching of a film, although not unfolding live before you with the actors or filmmakers present, can feel as intense and intimate as if they are.
Of course, at festivals and other times, the cast and crew are guests at screenings. I was pleased to see that the Toronto festival went ahead this year, despite their Q&As being streamed from the stars’ homes.
My questions about cinema and covid are: why did they need to be shut down entirely?
And why are the reopening conditions – which could have been maintained all along – made so unpleasant that it’s offputting? I think that governments must know this.
Wearing a mask in a dark, windowless room is especially difficult, where one is still for some time.
Being checked on – which normally doesn’t happen, even when we might wish for staff prescence to counteract anti social behaviour or fix the projection issue – is like being treated like naughty kids. Have we moved or taken off our masks?
The reliance on QR codes, which I’m starting to see as sinister; the lessening of staff contact, the expectation that we’ll book ourselves from home – but still be required to pay a booking fee – are also detractions from the attraction.
I’ve seen bars expect us to get our phones out to read the menu, when we are in shouting distance of the counter!
And of course, contact tracing – that a trip to the cinema can earn you a trip to the health centre. But with website cookies and accounts, our details were being harvested anyway.
I’m also meditating on the dominant cinema chains in this country and that few are truly independent, and don’t show anything very different from each other – including the supposed arts cinemas. I’ve been ruing this for a while. Picturehouses got rid of its brochures a while ago, and other chains and even indies have shrunk or discontinued them. Some, like Vue, don’t even list the films in the cinema itself.
Hence we know that this isn’t all in the name of safety. As much I appreciate the thought of not sitting squished up with strangers, I also challenge a renewed focus on the family. As I said, cinema is a pastime we engage in with our household and those outside of it. We go alone, with close friends, people we’re becoming friends and more with, people who we’re just happy to share an evening and a viewing experience with. Even those two for one campaigns – I won’t honour them by naming them – recognised this.
The viral closures and rules have heavily undermined our cultural diet, and with that comes the relationships we build with those on stage and those beside us, at the bar and in the box office.
Cinema is a place that new ideas which critique our world are expressed. By shutting it or making our viewing, at home and in public, accountable to by faceless stangers, it attacks those freedoms.
I’ve stopped and altered several long term habits in recent months, and not just since lockdown. I’ve long questioned how I feel about supporting certain cinemas, who want to record every coffee I had with my membership and how I had it, and reawakened showing pre covid films such as the already overexposed Parasite – and not allowing us to see the many whose release date was scuppered due to government rules.
We need cinemas and our arts – and yet we don’t. We don’t need them at any cost. If they become unrecognisable experiences, where it is no longer enjoyable but stressful, even risky (I question track and trace, or the possibility of police involvement for not wearing a mask – don’t forget exemptions), we won’t come back. If you continue to not listen to your customers, we’ll stop buying tickets. I’m seriously wondering if I want to return.
I’ve found that there are other ways to spend an evening and to fill my mind with stories. There are many there already.
I also make a plea for restrictions to not effectively strangle our arts and other amenities, and that the arts fight back and tell the government that although I am sure they care about our safety, that nonsensical and untenable laws will simply cripple them, and that means a) the cinemas take action actionst thse measures for loss of business; and b) that the losses of businesses will impact on governments own revenues and credibility.
I have been writing more about my views on the virus and its handling on my sister blog, which is subtitled ‘a skewed world view’ – although I feel it’s the world that’s wonky. Happily, many others now are looking with different lenses.
Cinema with Elspeth 