the death of cinema & how to bring it back to life (part 3)

Introducing my "cinemas as cultural gyms" framework.

My gym membership costs more than my monthly movie budget. So does my friend's therapy. So does yours, probably.

This isn't accidental. It's a statement about what modern society values.

The past decade transformed physical fitness from Jane Fonda VHS tapes into a multi-billion industry. The F45 on my corner used to be a movie theater. Traces of Art Deco molding peek out behind exposed brick and "NO PAIN NO GAIN" decals. Every morning, professionals in Lululemon line up to pay £250 each month for an Australian trainer to yell at them before their finance jobs. Even community gyms multiply like rabbits in urban centers.

Mental health followed the same trajectory. My mother would never dare write the word "therapy" in our family calendar. Now therapy references populate TikTok feeds. People list their therapists in dating profiles. Companies advertise mental health benefits alongside 401k plans. Therapy podcasts top download charts. Mindfulness apps have secured billions in venture funding.

Both transformations have accomplished something incredible: they made self-maintenance sexy. They turned necessary difficulty into desirable identity. They built communities around practices once considered purely functional or solitary. They created status around consistently showing up for challenging experiences.

The cultural fitness revolution has yet to happen.

I spent Part 1 and Part 2 of this series mapping several fault lines beneath cinema's crumbling foundation: how we’ve learned to devalue the experience of cinema; how its physical spaces lost cultural significance; how the industry embarrassingly oscillates between novelty and nostalgia; how pricing structures lock out entire demographics; how distribution models have divorced content from cultural context. And so much more.

These industry problems reflect something bigger: our diminishing relationship with cultural fitness.

The ability to process complex narratives sours with each autoplay. Our capacity for sustained attention shrinks with every notification. Our shared reference points splinter into algorithm-driven bubbles. Our tolerance for ambiguity contracts as we sort entertainment into things we already know we'll like. Conspiracy theories replace nuanced understanding. Authoritarian movements flourish where narrative complexity once lived.

Don't mistake this for some snobby lament about lowbrow entertainment. I'm not talking about quoting Shakespeare or recognizing 1920s directors. Cultural fitness isn't knowing what—it's knowing how.

Cultural fitness, I would argue, involves knowing how to:

• engage actively rather than consume passively

• hold contradictory ideas simultaneously

• process emotional complexity alongside strangers

• navigate narratives that challenge rather than confirm existing beliefs

• make meaning collectively rather than individually

Modern fitness culture reframed uncomfortable physical exertion as desirable, necessary growth. Therapy reframed uncomfortable emotional excavation the same way. In both, we accept temporary discomfort for long-term gain.

Cultural fitness thrives in identical ways. It requires spaces that optimize for focus rather than distraction, for complexity rather than simplification, for collective experience rather than isolated consumption.

And cinemas were created for this exact purpose.

So here's my grand idea, as radical as it is necessary: what if we reimagined cinema spaces as cultural gyms? Not just venues that show movies, but institutions expressly designed to strengthen our meaning-making muscles—as deliberately as Equinox sculpts abs or therapists rebuild neural pathways?

Of course, like any good fitness revolution, this one needs everything from facility redesigns to membership models, from training programs to marketing campaigns.

The rest of this essay maps that territory—how cultural gyms might transform physical spaces, create identity through membership, design progressive training programs through thoughtful programming, and convert the occasional moviegoer into someone who proudly announces "I'm a cultural gym member" at dinner parties (or something of the sort).

Forget asking whether cinema will survive streaming. The better question is whether we can rebuild our cultural muscles before we forget how to use them entirely.

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Two weeks ago, I found myself on a call with

Ted Hope

—a man who's produced some of the most important independent films of the last thirty years and now runs his own thoughtful Substack,

Hope For Film

, about the industry's future. I was explaining my predicament: "I don't know if I can expand this series longer. I promised my readers a 3-part series, and now it's turning into this huge thing with 9000+ words of solutions."

Ted just smiled through the screen. "YES YOU CAN."

That's producer energy for you. The same guy who helped deliver films like The Wedding Banquet and 21 Grams to the world wasn't about to let me abandon a project just because it refused to fit into my pre-planned structure.

The truth is, this series has evolved beyond my initial conception. What started as an examination of cinema's decline became a diagnosis of our collective cultural attention disorder, which has now flowered into a comprehensive reimagining of what cinema spaces could be.

I wanted to wrap everything up neatly for you today. Three problems, three solutions, finito. Instead, my research files have metastasized across multiple platforms. My Notion database looks like something out of Zodiac. I've accumulated enough material to write a small book rather than a newsletter conclusion (and some of you even encouraged me to even write one!).

So here's what I'm proposing: consider this the blueprint, the master framework for what I'm calling the "cinemas as cultural gyms." Over the next several weeks, I'll explore each component in the depth it deserves rather than trying to cram everything into one oversized finale that nobody would actually finish reading.

the “cinemas as cultural gyms” framework

If physical gyms build our bodies and therapy rebuilds our minds, cultural gyms would strengthen our meaning-making muscles. Here's the framework that will guide our exploration:

the facility: reimagining physical spaces

Most theaters still look like they're stuck in 1995—the same basic infrastructure with slightly better seats and food options. On the flip side, boutique fitness studios have transformed industrial warehouses into immersive temples of physical transformation.

This pillar explores three crucial elements:

• The new gym floor – How might we transform lobbies, auditoriums, and transition spaces to create environments that signal "cultural transformation happens here"?

• The workout zones – What if theaters included designated areas for different modes of engagement—intense focus zones, discussion nooks, social gathering spaces—rather than just rows of seats facing a screen?

• Class inclusive design – How can we build spaces that actively welcome diverse communities rather than reinforcing existing cultural stratification? From income-verified pricing to mobile cinemas serving cultural "deserts," true inclusivity demands spatial reimagining.

the membership: building Identity through participation

People don't join Equinox just because they want to use a treadmill. They're buying an identity, a belonging, a status marker. Yet cinema still treats attendance as purely transactional—you buy a ticket, you watch a movie, you leave.

Membership needs reimagining through three lenses:

• Status through cultural fitness – What if cinema memberships evolved as you deepened your engagement, like earning different colored belts in martial arts? Imagine membership tiers based on cultural exploration rather than spending power.

• Status through shared emotionality – How might cinemas create tribes united by emotional journeys rather than demographic profiles? Not just "horror fans" but communities formed around specific emotional experiences.

• Status through exclusivity – Can theaters offer valuable scarcity without reinforcing privilege? Exclusive experiences that reward knowledge and passion rather than just wealth?

the training programs: developing progressive workouts

No fitness trainer would randomly assign exercises with no progression or purpose. Yet most theaters program whatever arrives from studios whenever it arrives, with no thought to how this week's selection builds upon last week's or prepares you for next month's.

This pillar explores four transformative approaches:

• Curated programming – What if theaters functioned more like film festivals, creating deliberate progressions that build specific cultural muscles over time? Imagine monthly programs designed like fitness progressions.

• Content diversification – Could theaters break free from studio dependence by creating their own content cooperatives? What if major chains joined forces to finance mid-budget films that prioritize theatrical exhibition?

• Member recruitment (cultural personal trainers) – Who are our cultural trainers, and how might they guide communities through transformative experiences? What roles could critics, podcasters, and local experts play?

• Identity marketing over content marketing – How might marketing shift from selling plot summaries to fostering cultural identity? What if we marketed the transformative experience rather than just the content?

the management: systemic reform

Even the best-designed gym fails when its management systems break down. The same is true for cinema—we need systemic reforms that support theatrical exhibition as a distinct cultural practice.

Two critical areas demand attention:

• Distribution reform – What models would create healthier conditions for theatrical exhibition? Could we reimagine release windows as progressive training programs rather than financial constraints?

• MPA reform – How might industry oversight bodies like the Motion Picture Association evolve to establish standards that promote cultural fitness rather than just quarterly profits?

the finale & my promise to you

I promised you a trilogy, and technically, this concludes it. But the story we're exploring isn't finished—in many ways, it's just beginning.

Some of you might wonder why this matters so much. With everything happening in the world, why obsess over movie theaters? My answer is simple: Cinema, at its best, isn't a content delivery system but a synchronizer of human experience. When a room full of strangers laugh or cry or hold their breath together, something ancient and powerful happens—a reminder that we're not just isolated consciousness in separate flesh prisons but creatures capable of feeling in unison.

This synchronization of experience feels increasingly rare and precious. The algorithms that dictate our individual content streams have atomized culture into personally-optimized fragments. Even when we watch the same shows, we watch them alone, pause them when convenient, check our phones during the slow parts. The collective pulse is gone.

What we're experiencing isn't just an industry crisis—it's a cultural fitness emergency.

Maybe that's why I feel so drawn to the gym metaphor. I remember my first month of lifting weights—the humiliation of struggling with what others lifted easily, the soreness that lingered for days, the voice in my head insisting I didn't belong there. But I also remember what happened next: gradual, transformative change. Movements that once felt impossible became routine. Weights that once seemed immovable became manageable. My body literally reconfigured itself through deliberate, consistent practice.

We've built countless systems to strengthen our bodies. We've normalized therapy for rebuilding mental health. Yet we've allowed the spaces dedicated to cultural fitness to wither while pretending algorithms can replace them. They can't. Just as a YouTube workout video isn't the same as having a trainer adjust your form in real time, no streaming service can replicate the cultural workout that happens when you surrender yourself to a challenging film alongside others.

This vision keeps me awake at night. It feels both absurdly ambitious and absolutely urgent.

I don't know if theaters want to become cultural gyms. I don't know if audiences recognize their atrophied cultural muscles enough to value spaces designed to strengthen them. But I do know this: I won't stop trying to articulate why it matters, because I've felt what happens when these muscles weaken, and I've glimpsed what might be possible if we deliberately strengthened them.

Ted was right. This vision deserves space to breathe. So you can expect at least two more pieces from me that cover the above solutions in-depth:

• Building the cultural fitness space (physically and thematically)

• Powering the cultural fitness movement

Your homework until then? Notice when your attention wanders during the next thing you watch. Pay attention to what happens in your body when you try to focus. Begin treating your cultural muscles with the same awareness you bring to physical fitness or mental health.

Like any good trainer would say: the hardest part is showing up. And you just did.

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A final note for people with taste 🫦

While the internet's prioritizing hot takes and SEO-optimized nothingness, I’m here building a sanctuary for people who believe film and television criticism can be thoughtful, accessible and fun all at once.

For the price of a truly mediocre sandwich, consider joining the resistance with a paid subscription – it keeps independent film writing alive and the algorithms at bay.

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Now go forth and raise those standards, darling.

- Sophie x