‘We come to this place for magic’

I have Nicole Kidman’s entire AMC theater pre-show advertisement committed to memory. If you’ve been to this theater in the past five years, chances are you’re familiar too. There are few words to describe the feeling that washes over me in the theater when this ad begins to play. I genuinely feel the spirit of Kidman enter the room — silver pinstripe suit and all. 

As Kidman steps through a puddle — with AMC’s logo glowing red in the water’s reflection — she enters the theater and takes a seat as her uplifting monologue continues, a love letter to cinema. 

“Somehow heartbreak feels good in a place like this.” And she is completely right! This ad perfectly encapsulates what makes movie theaters so special. 

The theater gives its patrons a temporary escape, operating as a center for community and unique experiences. Yet, movie theaters around the world have continued to struggle in the aftermath of the pandemic. To many, movie-going has become obsolete in the streaming age. 

But for me and so many others, the theater will always be an important space, and I believe our generation will be the one to keep cinema culture alive. 

I don’t think I know anyone who loves going to the movies more than my grandma. And this appreciation is something I’m sure I learned from her. As a kid, I remember a handful of days where she was supposed to take me to school, but we ended up at the theater instead. 

These dates are some of my favorite memories with her, and we have continued this tradition today. Birthdays, Christmas Eve and any time I’m back home, my visits with her almost always involve a big silver screen. 

Quality time hasn’t always been a strong suit of mine. Especially as a busy and generally irritated teenager, most of the free time I had I preferred to spend alone in my room. “Let’s watch a movie!” was my mom’s most frequent suggestion in her attempts to drag me out of isolation. The movie was typically “The Sister Act 2,” and my answer was typically “No.” 

In time, though, we found a happy medium — catching the newest movies at the theater down the street. On the weekends we were free, my mom, little sister and I would make a day out of going to the movies. My sister and I would beeline for the concession stand, reciting our ritual order: A large popcorn with extra butter, two ICEEs and a bag of mini Kit Kats. 

With hometown friends, trips to The Loft Cinema — an iconic, small arthouse theater in the heart of Tucson — were always a fun venture. The Loft is a unique community hub in the city, with over 50 years of history. 

Coming to ASU, I was so excited to have a theater just walking distance from my dorm. The Arizona Center AMC became a sanctuary for my friends and me. Amid stressful spells, we’d go to the theater for a breath of fresh air. For a couple of hours, we had nothing to worry about, and as we left, all we could concentrate on was decoding the film we’d just seen. 

The movie theater has always been a place I felt excited to go to, and sharing the experience with people I love makes it that much more special. 

Recent revival 

The pandemic drastically impacted theaters around the world, as many were forced to close their doors, unable to fill seats. A local example that comes to mind is the Valley Art Theatre on Mill Avenue, which opened its doors in 1940 and closed temporarily over five years ago.

As the third established Harkins Theater, this venue has a rich and important history. Valley Art was the only theater constructed in Tempe during the Great Depression, making it a symbol for the persistence and success of arts and entertainment amid economic and social hardship. 

For half a decade, some variation of “See you soon” has been written on the marquee, and despite community pressure, the doors have remained closed. 

There are several threads on Reddit consisting of user inquiries about the fate of this landmark, with many describing the various possible uses of the theater as a community hub for film lovers around the city. One user even suggested a possible student film festival in partnership with ASU’s Sidney Poitier New American Film School. 

In general, I’ve witnessed a common craving for a space like Valley Art in the city, and this longing reflects a much greater movement emerging within our generation. 

These days, it seems like everyone is a “cinephile,” or in layman’s terms, a profound lover of film. In 2025, Gen Z had the highest increase in movie going attendance at 25%, according to Cinema United’s “The Strength of Theatrical Exhibition” report from that year. 

This statistic is unsurprising to me. For one, because of the incredible lineup of films from last year and secondly, due to the widespread resurgence of cinema culture among younger audiences. 

Letterboxd is a platform that has, in many ways, motivated this revival. Users on Letterboxd can rate, review and list films through journal-esque logging and tracking. I hopped on the bandwagon in 2021. For me, much of the app’s appeal is its ability to make movie- going feel productive. When I go see a movie and fully immerse myself in it, I get excited to write about that experience in my review after the fact — or even just to read other people’s responses to the film. 

Many of my peers feel the same way, and this interest in many ways relates to the growing cultivation of analog and physical media among younger generations. 

My take on this phenomenon is that Gen Z is becoming increasingly aware of the impermanence of digital media. Shows we watched as kids have become “lost” media in the turnover to streaming, censorship has become a growing fear and any media we consume could disappear at the drop of a hat. 

As a result of this, we have found solace in the security of ownership and the novelties of lived experiences. Buying DVDs and movie tickets is more valuable than streaming a film that only exists in the cloud. When we opt for physical media, we are ensuring the continuation of a film’s experience through both immediate access and memory.

Theaters as third spaces 

When I say memory, I am referring to the impression of a movie-going experience on oneself. There is a certain rarity to this practice that I have come to appreciate. You can watch pretty much any movie you want from the comfort of your own home, but there is something so special in the experience of seeing a film as it was meant to be viewed. 

Recently, a lot of big directors have advocated for this experience, pushing for theater attendance. Last year, the theatrical rollout of Ryan Coogler’s “Sinners” was an incredible success. Coogler often encouraged audiences to view the film in IMAX theaters in order to retain the full scope of the film as he designed it. 

I have seen “Sinners” on a 50-inch flat screen TV, in a standard theater and on IMAX, and I can absolutely attest to the impact of formatting in the experience. The film was incredible despite the venue, but what made the greatest difference to me was the experience as an audience member. 

One of my favorite parts about the theater is the practice of consuming and analyzing art at the exact same time as a group of strangers, and all the varying reactions that come with it. Some of the most satisfying moments while viewing a film for me are the shared gasps or laughter, audience-wide. 

There are very few places available today for this distinct kind of connection, and that is why theaters are so important in fostering community, as they achieve it through the increasingly scarce idea of shared experience.

Edited by Leah Mesquita, Natalia Jarrett and Abigail Wilt. This story is part of The Culture Issue, which was released on March 25, 2026. See the entire publication here. 

Reach Keyanee Walls at kwalls6@asu.edu.

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