Cinema: A Case For The Third Space

I first became a cinephile at a time when going to the movies was impossible. 

Like many other people, I kept myself busy during the COVID-19 pandemic by indulging in the best, and worst, movies that streaming services had to offer. It was my first real involvement with the ‘canon’ of Hollywood productions. I sobbed at The Pursuit of Happyness, cried with laughter at Mean Girls, had my breath taken away by Top Gun, and couldn’t refuse the offer to watch The Godfather with my dad. Whilst I try to steer clear of praising Quentin Tarantino, there is also no denying that the opening scene of Inglourious Basterds, which I first watched on a particularly boring day in April 2020, left an indelible mark on my view towards the medium of film. 

The pandemic devastated the cinema industry, with UK revenues dropping from £1.2 billion in 2019 to just under £300 million in 2020. Finances are slowly improving, but it is also evident that COVID truly knocked the industry for six, with the cinematic experience now facing the most sinister threat of all - convenience. 

Convenience for production companies using generative AI to cut costs. 

Convenience for audience members who don’t want to spend an evening travelling to and from a cinema, and will instead wait for its digital release. 

Convenience for actors who sign safe, multi-million dollar deals with streaming services, rather than opt for a film with a cinematic release. 

Now, there is no denying that streaming services can produce absolutely incredible films. Netflix’s 2025 Train Dreams is a testament to this. However, streaming services also produce a lot of terrible, soulless films. Netflix’s 2025 Happy Gilmore 2 is a testament to this. 

As the world stares down the barrel of a Netflix takeover of Warner Bros., it is becoming ever more apparent that cinema faces an existential crisis. The massive surge of people using streaming services since the pandemic has emboldened these companies to continue to twist the knife into the back of the cinematic experience. 

Despite living the greatest era of communication the world has ever known, our lives are now so atomised and fragmented, and so distinct from another, that we are slowly losing our ability to acknowledge and understand the lives and experiences of others in society. When a society loses its ability to empathise, it leaves the door wide open for bigotry to take root. This is where the cinema comes in.

The truth is that when the lights go down and the film starts playing, everyone in that theatre experiences the same thing. It’s a beautiful experience that is vanishingly rare to come by in 2026. 

You are transported into a temporary community of admiration, respect and discipline. Simply buying a cinema ticket is a way of affirming that some stories are worth leaving the house for. It’s an act of defiance against an increasingly individualised society. 

Our feelings towards what is playing may be different, but this doesn’t matter. Getting 100 people to not check their phone for two hours, that matters. 

As the ‘third space’ continues to dwindle in the wake of COVID, cinema offers a healthy and surprisingly social alternative. I went to see Avatar: Fire and Ash with four of my closest friends before Christmas. Despite the film being a letdown, it still remains one of my fondest memories of the year, because it reminded me that nothing can bring us together like the big screen, even if that screen is showing a three hour CGI story of white saviourism that has been told twice before. 

I digress; the crux of my argument isn’t a critique of James Cameron, it’s this - cinemas need audiences, and audiences need cinemas. Cinemas aren’t decadent ornaments of a consumerist-obsessed society, they are essential instruments of human connection and empathy. Without the cinema, we risk losing one of the only ways in which we can truly know our friends, family and ourselves. 

As I look back on the lonely, but inarguably fond, memories of watching four movies a day on streaming services during the 2020 lockdown, I am struck by a profound realisation. This didn’t birth my love of movies, not really. 

My love of movies was born when I watched Avengers: Endgame on its opening weekend with my best friend and my dad. 

My love of movies was born when I moved into university and, within a few weeks of meeting my flatmates, watched No Time To Die at the local cinema with them. 

My love of movies was born when I first held hands with my now-girlfriend whilst watching Final Destination: Bloodlines at the cinema. 

My love of movies was born when I sobbed at the ending of Hamnet with my mum last weekend. 

The truth is, my love of movies is constantly reinventing itself, and I have the cinema to thank for that. It is an institution that has shaped who I am as a person, and that has the power to shape an entire society, and the world, for the better. 

“I guess I’ll see you in the movies.” 

Sebastian,

La La Land (2016)

Image: Wikimedia Commons/Kōshirō Onchi

Licence: public domain.

No image changes made.