Small theaters struggle to survive in the hard work of cinema – Variety

Nestled at the foot of a large hill on the outskirts of downtown Providence, in the state of Britain, the Cable Car cinema was known to moviegoers in the region as "the one with couches". It was a charitable description. These were love seats, really – perfect if you were with a date, but embarrassing if you were going to see a movie with a friend or you were sitting next to a stranger.

Despite, or perhaps because of its special seats, Cable Car has inspired a fierce devotion among its regulars, a collection of students from Brown and Rhode Island School of Design, teachers, artists and of moviegoers.

"It's a place where you went to socialize with other moviegoers," says Mike Ritz, a long-time patron. "You did not go there to see" Spider-Man. "They played art films that challenged you, that caused emotions, that made you think."

Last May, after 42 years of showing everything from "Pulp Fiction" to "RBG", the cable car used its projector for the last time and closed forever. The activity was profitable, but the owners, Daniel Kamil and Emily Steffian, could not agree with RISD, the owner of the building, on an agreement that would allow them to buy the theater on site. Kamil and Steffian concluded that to stay competitive, they had to expand beyond their restricted space on one screen.

"We were looking at a future where it would be increasingly difficult to break even," Kamil told Variety. "We bought the theater because we liked movies and wanted to preserve a local icon, but we could not make it work."

The closure left a void in the welded community of independent moviegoers, which has not yet been filled. "I kept having this really unhealthy fantasy that a miracle would happen and that someone would rush to save it at the last minute," says Anna Macgregor Robin, a regular on the cable car. "You know, like in movies."

But no white knight has come to the rescue and the theater has become a prime example of the challenges facing independent cinemas. Faced with an aging audience, competition from streaming services and theater chains with reclining seats and other amenities, many of these exhibitors are balancing precariously between popcorn burst and obligation to extinguish their capitals.

"It's a tough business," says Eric Handler, an exhibition industry analyst at MKM Partners. "Your incomes are inconsistent. Your rent continues to increase. Unless you have a heavily invested investor, you do not have the capital to do what they do in movie theater chains by investing in high-end food products and more stylish seats. "

Owners of independent theaters have been forced to find creative ways to remain solvent.

Some have become non-profit organizations; others have launched GoFundMe campaigns to fund renovations. Newt Wallen, chief operating officer of Anthony Wayne Theater, a film palace in Wayne, Pennsylvania, which has grown in tatters, solicited donations from clients living in the main line of the movie theaters hoping to install new leather seats. carpet, paint the hall and refresh the screens. He wants to raise $ 2 million, but declined to say how close he was to achieving that goal.

"I'm painting, I'm fixing the plumbing, but I can only do a lot of things," says Wallen. "I play on people's sympathy and hope they make a donation. But sometimes it's difficult. Sometimes I have the impression of screaming in the sky. "

Despite the challenges, a large number of independent cinemas still exist. In the United States, the exhibition sector is dominated by three major channels – Regal, AMC and Cinemark – which collectively control 50% of the country's approximately 41,000 screens. But once you have passed these behemoths, there are a number of small circuits and popular theaters. Among the more than 600 members of the national association. Of the theater owners, the leading trade group in the exhibition sector, 414 have fewer than 10 screens and 91 of them have only one screen.

"Challenges and opportunities vary from one market to another," says NATO spokesperson Patrick Corcoran. "Businesses tend to be hyperlocal and influenced by what's happening in their economies."

This means that ticket sales can be heavily influenced by the closure of a factory or by a new company setting up its head office on the street, without being limited to films coming out of the screens.

General Manager Victor Martinez is a 31-year veteran of the historic Vista Theater in Los Angeles. Pamela Littky for the variety

The term "independent" is flexible. NATO defines it as a theater or a theater chain with 75 screens or less. This encompasses a wide range, from the single-screen cable car to Cinergy, a thriving chain in Texas and Oklahoma, with five locations and 47 screens. These companies present all kinds of films. Some play obscure films in a foreign language; others present the latest superhero adventure. Regardless of their size or the films they present, independent theaters have no choice but to thwart larger circuits if they want to survive. Take Vintage Cinemas, a chain of three theaters in Southern California. Lance Alspaugh, head of the company, thinks it's the personal touch that makes the difference.

"Those [corporate chains]it's a cookie cutter, "says Alspaugh. "These are boxes with giant seats."

On the other hand, Alspaugh and his staff know their customers by name. They also respect the privacy of the celebrities who frequent the two Vintage sites located in the Los Feliz district of Los Angeles (the Los Feliz Theater and the Vista), a group of stars including Angelina Jolie, Katy Perry and Quentin Tarantino. During the process, the company has developed a dynamic sense of community. These are not just places to see the latest movies.

"Our place is a special place," says Alspaugh. "We had weddings there. We had funerals there. "

The Vista attracts a handful of locals representing many demographic groups, as well as suburbs attracted by Los Feliz shops and Instagram-friendly hipster aesthetics. At a recent performance of "Captain Marvel", teenage crowds, Marvel fans and couples gathered to cheer Brie Larson as she struggled to save the day. universe. Perhaps the most dazzling special effect of the evening was the price of admission, which was $ 9.50 for a Sunday night show, half the price of a one-kilometer ticket on the road from the Arclight Hollywood. While Vista does not boast Arclight's selection of high-end caramel corn or wasabi peas, its popcorn and sodas are also cheaper. But maintaining the attraction of the theater takes time and sweat. Alspaugh, who became Vintage's CEO in 1999, says he's still working.

"Things are breaking," he says. "A popcorn popper is not heating up as it is supposed, or the roof is leaking, or an emergency exit needs to be replaced, something like that worries me, I'm like a doctor – I'm not never on call, I do not think I've ever been a real starter. "

Alspaugh may spend a lot of time putting out the fires, but he was lucky in an important sense: he had a secret weapon in the general manager Victor Martinez, a 31-year veteran of the Vista, the most popular theater from Vintage. Martinez has become a local legend for his frequent appearances in costume as characters of the last outings. It's a tradition that he began in 2004 when he donned a Venetian mask and coat as a tribute to the monstrous central character of "The Ghost of the Opera". Since then, he has worn everything from Wolverine's "Logan" promotion to Captain Jack Sparrow's pile of dreadlocks and mascara for every new "Pirates of the Caribbean" movie.

"I created a monster," says Martinez. "At first I said," Would not it be so cool that someone dressed as a character at the door cuts tickets? The reaction was incredible, Lance received a ton of emails. Now they want me to dress for everything. For "Godzilla", "The Nun", "Dumbo", I only do it when it suits me and I know it will be great. I do not want it to get tired. "

Costumed ticket holders are not enough for all theaters. Some, like Cinergy, have found ways to diversify their income. The channel does not just watch movies. Its locations also offer bowling alleys, escape rooms and virtual reality games. And it works. While some theaters are struggling to stay in business, Cinergy is in a mode of expansion. It plans to open two more sites by 2020.

"I spend a lot of time trying to understand the demographics of places, ours and potential sites," said Jeff Benson, CEO of Cinergy. "I spend a lot of time wooing banks, talking to different lenders, to make sure we have capital in reserve for everything we need. We have refinanced several loans recently. We have installed reclining seats in all our locations. We are installing four additional screens at our location in Odessa, Texas. "

This is not Benson's first rodeo. In 2001 he founded Movie Tavern, one of the first cinemas to adopt the idea of ​​offering a catering service throughout a movie. He then expanded the company to 14 complexes in five states before ceding his stake to Cinemark in 2008. The idea of ​​serving a dinner at the cinema was new. However, Benson acknowledged that something had to be changed: the studios required a larger share of ticket sales and attendance was flat.

He had to increase his income or face a future characterized by increasingly tense margins. With this in mind, it has set itself the goal of making Cinergy an entertainment destination that is not a slave to programming. "I think our days are numbered as an industry if we do not evolve," says Benson. Because Cinergy is not content to broadcast movies, it has been able to overcome the recent collapse of the market: ticket sales have dropped by about 20%.

"With all the components of games and bowling and family fun – escape rooms, rope courses – this kind of thing really goes really well when it's cold outside," he says. "Even though the films have been dull at best, we've broken records in the gaming rooms each of the last three weekends."

Lance Alspaugh, CEO of Vintage Cinemas, said, "I'm like a doctor – I'm never on call." Pamela Littky for the variety

Cinergy may add places, but other theaters face a more perilous future. An avenue that some have borrowed to stay afloat is to become a non-profit organization. This strategy allowed The Brattle, a theater based in Cambridge, Massachusetts, which offers a mix of classic films, independent feature films and foreign language films. Located in the middle of the campus of Harvard University, the intimate place is a curiosity with its representations of "Casablanca" for Valentine's Day and its rear projection system. In 2001, Brattle employees Ned Hinkle and Ivy Moylan took over the lease and created a foundation to manage the theater. After consulting the books, they realized that they would not be able to continue to show artistic films unless they could look for other forms of funding, such as grants and charitable donations.

"We would not have lasted the last 20 years if we had not been a nonprofit," says Hinkle. "We should have changed our programming model and we did not want to do it." With so many charitable causes asking for money, Hinkle recognizes that it can be difficult to find people willing to write checks.

"We had ups and downs," he says. "It was sometimes difficult to convince the community to see us as an art institution. People are wondering why we are a non-profit organization if we sell tickets. Many people think that there is a dividing line between popular art like cinema and art like ballet.

Even movie theaters that yield money serve a social good, say the operators. Generations of young people had their first professional experience at the box office or at the concession stand. In addition, the theaters themselves can become de facto community centers. At a time when viewers are paying more attention to their smartphones or tablets, or at home, watching Netflix broadcasts or searching the Internet, theaters are a rare place people can meet and live a shared experience. The movies they see on the big screen have their own value, drawing viewers into new worlds, introducing them to characters and experiences that are very different from theirs.

"I've seen films that have changed the trajectory of my life," says Ritz, the cable car's patron. "They changed the way I behave or see others. They've opened my eyes to new possibilities. Denise Mahon received the same message from customers when she decided to close the Varsity Theater, a single screen cinema located in Des Moines, Iowa, last December. The theater was purchased by his father, B.C. Mahon, in 1954, and Mahon resumed it in 2009 after his death. This always attracted customers, but Mahon was exhausted by the pressure of work 365 days a year. She needed a knee surgery that would deprive her of her services for months, and she entertained fantasies of traveling.

"It was a heartbreaking decision," recalls Mahon. "I had the impression of letting people down and had the impression of dropping my father to a certain level."

Cinergy theaters offer entertainment options such as bowling alleys, with the goal of increasing revenue. Wade Griffith

The closing of the Varsity was poignant in other personal respects. The announcement of the birth of Mahon was made on a movie image and projected on screen. Growing up, she organized birthday parties at the theater. In high school, she worked at the cash register, which taught her how to make money. What surprised her, however, is how much this decision affected her clients.

"I had piles of cards where people had just poured their hearts," says Mahon. "People were saying how dynamic this community was, or they were talking about seeing a movie here and how much it had been for them. Dad is proud to show thought-provoking movies, and people have enjoyed it. "

On a snowy night just before New Year's Eve, it is up to Mahon to show a last film. The place was filled with sympathizers and media. Mahon hired a choir to sing show tunes and "Auld Lang Syne". She also chose a very special feature film to help put the credits in the movie "Cinema Paradiso". The 1988 Italian film focuses on the link between a good movie owner of the house and a boy who grows up to become a famous director. It is in all respects a love letter to the power of the cinema.

"All I have to do is listen to this theme song and the tears begin to flow down my face," Mahon explains. "This story is my father's story. He loved to receive. "