Readers Write In #747: Luxury Can’t Save It: The Decline of the Theatre-Going Experience

By karzzexped

For reasons I can’t quite explain, I vividly remember my first time watching a movie in a theatre. Perhaps it was the haunting subject matter Bala chose for his debut film, or maybe it was the deeply disturbing song Enge Sellum Indha Paadhai, which still echoes in my mind, just as fresh as the first time I heard it—despite the fact that I was a mere 5-year-old, wedged between my parents. I can almost envision the raised eyebrows: A 5-year-old at an ‘A’ rated film? While this is a practice I strongly oppose—and one that frustratingly persists even today—that’s a topic for another time, perhaps another blog. But let’s stay on track.

The theatre was Solamalai Cinemas in Madurai, one of the few surviving single-screen theatres to date. The seats were made of wood, tickets were printed on comically large, brightly coloured paper, and popcorn came in a one-size-fits-all plastic bag. Growing up in a middle-class, cinema-obsessed household meant that every Sunday it was time to watch a new film—a fresh hero, a new heroine, but occasionally, a story that dared to break the mould.

Then came Sivaji in 2007, and suddenly the theatre experience began to evolve. For the first time, I was mesmerized by the crystal-clear sound and sharp resolution. Popcorn was no longer a solitary snack—it now came with mutta-bonda (egg bonda) and swirlies. The colourful, oversized tickets were replaced by neatly printed sheets. Restrooms no longer carried their tell-tale stench from a mile away, and parking was no longer an afterthought, but an actual consideration.

But it was Avatar in 2009 that truly transformed the theatre landscape. It felt as if a tyrannical ruler had imposed sweeping changes overnight. Ticket prices surged into the triple digits, and for the first time, parking inside the theatre came with a fee. Yet, despite the changes, some habits stayed the same—like parking our motorcycles 100 meters away from the theatre. Old habits die hard, I guess.

As my home base shifted from Madurai to Chennai for my studies, so did my movie-watching experiences. Taking a date to a film meant heading to Sathyam, while queuing up at 4 AM for an FDFS show was a ritual reserved for Udhayam or Kasi. The popcorn tubs grew larger, as did the prices—a “regular” size became medium, and what once was medium was now called small. Hot mutta-bondas now became cold, plastic-wrapped sandwiches, served by gloved attendants. Ushers now guided us to our seats, perhaps because single screens gave way to multiplexes. From watching 7am Arivu at Sathyam to experiencing Luxe, Chennai’s first proper multiplex, or heading to Red Hills to catch Vishwaroopam (you know why), the ride has been exhilarating. The peak of it all? PVR: Director’s Cut at The KOPA, Pune, where I hope to eventually settle.

However, somewhere along the line—especially after Covid—I started noticing a drop in the overall theatre experience. Even though the base quality standard has hit an all-time high, something feels off.

I can’t point the reason to one specific thing, so I’m going to take the easy way out and blame multiple factors—hoping this sparks some conversation so we can at least come up with a theory.

The Smartphone Predicament: Call me old-school, but I always put my phone on silent and switch my watch to cinema mode. Unfortunately, not everyone seems to follow that rule anymore. Cup holders have turned into smartphone stands, and people aren’t bothered about blinding the entire row with their full-brightness screens. Posting a reel or Snap to announce their presence in the theatre has somehow become a bigger tradition than the intro sequence of a star. Heck, I once witnessed a teen playing PUBG on full volume during a movie, and a parent using YouTube to pacify their kid in another. Honestly, I’m not sure what the solution is, but clearly, Bhumi Pednekar’s “Hello Ji” PSA isn’t helping.

Tardiness Everywhere: When was the last time a movie actually started on time? Maybe it’s just me, but I’m a stickler for punctuality. If the show starts at 7 PM, I’m already parking my vehicle by 6:30. But now, we all stroll into the theatre at the supposed start time, only to sit there while the movie begins late. Is it to accommodate our tendency to be late, or have we just accepted that the theatre is going to run behind? It’s a mystery.

Increasing Commoditization: Picture this: you walk into a multiplex inside a mall. After the unnecessary frisking, a group of sharply dressed staff rushes over, trying to sell you “experiences” tied to the very theatre you’re in. Banks have teamed up with multiplexes to push premium lounges that used to be accessible to everyone. Meanwhile, the mandatory water stations are hidden so well you’ll end up buying an overpriced bottle instead. The whole experience feels more transactional now, and that rush one got while entering the arena just isn’t there like it used to be.

But it’s not all that bleak. Once I block out the distractions and really focus on the screen, I’m transported back to that wooden seat from 25 years ago, and the journey since then has been an incredible one. Here’s to another 25 years—hopefully filled with more joy and less of the dread I felt while watching Vikram board that van in Sethu.