On a scorching summer evening, 36-year-old Miles Villalon found himself in front of the New Beverly Cinema, hours before the show was set to begin. Already holding tickets to a Watergate-themed double feature that included 1976’s “All the President’s Men” and 1999’s “Dick,” Villalon had endured Los Angeles’ notorious rush-hour traffic to ensure he could secure front-row seats at Quentin Tarantino’s historic theater.
For Villalon, a Starbucks barista and aspiring filmmaker, this level of dedication is nothing out of the ordinary. He typically catches up to six movies a week, almost exclusively at independently owned theaters around Los Angeles. “I always say it feels like church,” he said. “When I go to AMC, I just sit there. And I can’t really experience that communal thing that we have here, where we’re all just worshipping at the altar of celluloid.”
Despite the radical transformation in cinema consumption brought on by streaming and a pandemic, Villalon is part of a growing number of predominantly younger individuals who are fueling a renaissance in LA’s independent theater scene. The city’s enduring, albeit diminished, status as a mecca of the film industry continues to shape its residents and their entertainment preferences, often rekindled with new appreciation post-pandemic.
Part of what makes Los Angeles unique is its abundance of historic theaters, salvaged from potential closures or resurrected by those with ties to the film industry. Experts see a pattern of success for a certain kind of theater experience in Los Angeles.
Kate Markham, managing director at Art House Convergence, a coalition of independent cinema exhibitors, highlighted a key factor: the people running these theaters. “They know their audiences or their potential audiences, and they are curating programs and an environment for them to have an exceptional experience,” she explained in an email.
Tarantino led this trend by purchasing the New Beverly in 2007. After Netflix acquired and restored the nearby Egyptian Theater, which originally opened in 1922 as a silent movie house, the company reopened it to the public in November in partnership with the nonprofit American Cinematheque. It’s now a bustling hub, often rolling out the red carpet for A-list celebrities premiering their projects and film buffs willing to indulge in hours-long marathons, like a recent screening of four Paul Thomas Anderson movies.
Further east lies Vidiots, which transitioned from a Santa Monica video store to a revived institution across town five years after its 2017 closure. The addition of a 271-seat theater, a bar, and a new crop of devotees transformed it into a cinephile’s sanctuary. “It’s literally my favorite place to be outside of my own snuggly home,” said filmmaker and actor Mark Duplass, a financial backer of Vidiots alongside high-profile names such as Aubrey Plaza and Lily Collins.
What draws individuals to independent theaters varies—from older programming and elevated food-and-drink offerings to lower prices—but many agree that, above all, there’s a communal aspect chains can’t replicate. “The bigger places obviously have premium formats and stuff like that. But I think there’s a lot less communal connection,” said Dr. Michael Hook, who attended a matinee of “Seven Samurai” at Vidiots with a Children’s Hospital Los Angeles co-worker. “You’re not just milling around with people who also have selected to go to a three-hour-long 1950s Japanese movie.”
Although the pandemic dealt a heavy blow from which the box office has yet to fully recover, it also acted as a pruning that made the movie theater landscape more sustainable for the streaming era, stated Janice O’Bryan, Comscore’s senior vice president. “COVID weeded out some of the stuff that needed to close anyway,” she noted regarding the more than 500 theaters that shuttered nationwide. “I think that it made everything healthier.”
The theaters that survived have carved out niches, often deliberately avoiding the chains’ 4DX, reclining seats, and dining services. “For the types of films that we show, I definitely don’t want waiters walking around, bringing stuff to people and hearing the scraping of cutlery on plates,” laughed Greg Laemmle, co-runner of the nearly-century-old Laemmle Theaters, a staple of independent cinema in Los Angeles. But he acknowledges the importance of offering more than just popcorn and soda, especially as an additional revenue stream. Embracing food and drinks can sometimes transform the theater into a unique destination.
“When I normally go to a movie theater, I show up two minutes before the movie starts,” Duplass revealed. “I go to Vidiots like 45 minutes before so I can get my chilled Junior Mints, I can have a drink at the bar, see some people. I go and walk around the video store.”
In February, over 30 filmmakers, including Jason Reitman, Steven Spielberg, Denis Villeneuve, and Christopher Nolan, acquired Westwood’s Village Theater to preserve it. Adding a restaurant, bar, and gallery, these industry giants are determined to keep the tradition alive.
Nevertheless, LA movie theaters are not without challenges. Pandemic-inflicted hurdles, compounded by last summer’s strikes, resulted in fewer movies to show. Not all theaters have found their Tarantino or Reitman. The closure of the iconic Cinerama Dome in April 2021 was a significant blow to the city’s cinephiles. Despite being owned by ArcLight Cinemas at its closure, the Dome was a singular landmark in Hollywood.
Its fate remains uncertain with reported delays to the targeted reopening date. Despite being granted a liquor license for the multiplex in July 2022, the parent company Decurion Corporation couldn’t be reached for comment.
Preserved theaters often owe their survival to benefaction or aid, like the $16 billion federal Shuttered Venue Operators Grant program that Laemmle used during the pandemic. While the funds provided some stability, a full recovery has been slow.
“COVID weeded out some of the stuff that needed to close anyway,” he said. “I think that it made everything healthier.”
In some ways, Los Angeles’ history, culture, and abundance of theaters make this renaissance most apparent, acknowledged Bryan Braunlich, executive director of the National Association of Theatre Owners Cinema Foundation. While Tarantino may be less likely to buy a dying revival house in Peoria, Illinois, that doesn’t mean the trend can’t have an impact there.
“Hollywood and filmmakers are saying, ‘Hey, movie theaters matter,’” Braunlich said. “There are amazing independent theater owners thriving across the country. And I think they get a boost of confidence, like, ‘Yes, this is a great business to be in. This is a great business to invest in. And we’re not alone as film nerds doing this.’”
Duplass, reflecting on his cinema introduction growing up in New Orleans, recalled a visit to Vidiots to see “Raising Arizona” with his parents. “I realized I was the same age now that they were then when we first saw it together. And I got to hold my dad’s hand as we cried in that last scene,” he said. “We shared that movie, but we shared the passing of time in our favorite church, which is the movie theater.”
