IT'S the news all movie-loving, cinema-going Malaysians have been waiting for. The announcement that our favourite movie halls are finally dusting the cobwebs and flinging open their doors to the hordes hungry for silver screen action couldn't have come at a better time. Or has it?
With wariness — and worries — over Covid still not fully abated and the rising popularity of streaming platforms (Netflix, HBO, et al) giving cinemas a run for their money, are Malaysians really going to be heading to the halls in excited droves? Will the spectre of the pandemic hanging over us still be worth the popcorn?
Check out the latest episode of Sunday Vibes @ NST to catch the hosts' light-hearted sharing on the enchantment of darkened cinema halls and what the 'new normal' cinema-going experience might be like.
The Sunday Vibes podcast is now on Audio+. Download the app to listen to this episode and all future episodes, as well as to access other great content from the Media Prima Audio stable. For this latest episode, go to https://player.whooshkaa.com/episode?id=912258.
ROMANCE OF THE CINEMA
Intan Maizura Ahmad Kamal, Editor and Host
I NEVER went to the cinema as a kid. In fact, I don't even think my parents were cinema-going parents. Not with us — my brother and I — at least. That said, I've heard my father reminiscing fondly about his schoolboy exploits going to the cinema with his rowdy buddies, sitting on creaky, wooden balcony seats, throwing kuaci at each other, and enthusing about the genius of P. Ramlee.
My memories of going to the cinema only date back to my student days in England, where I was fortunate to be in the company of film-loving friends. Leicester Square, the famous pedestrianised square and entertainment epicentre located smack in the West End of London, was our regular haunt — after class and on weekends.
This popular square was framed on all sides by cinemas — from Odeon, Empire, Vue, et al. It was truly THE place to be for lovers of the silver screen. However, being students and having little money to spare, our cinema of choice was always the more affordable, atas-sounding Prince Charles, a repertory cinema that showed a rotating programme of cult, arthouse and classic films, in addition to Hollywood releases.
The only independent cinema in the West End, the darkened halls of Prince Charles also hosted a raucous sing-along version of The Sound of Music, The Rocky Horror Picture Show, Joseph, and The Room.
Prince Charles, constructed in the 1960s and at one time reinvented as a porn cinema, was so cheap that I can't even recall whether it sold popcorns. Maybe it did… or maybe we sneaked in Walkers' crisps in the dark. I really can't remember.
What I do remember was the fact that as students, we could pack in numerous movies in one afternoon, just because the tickets were cheap and we'd still have enough to spare for a rowdy dinner in one of the many "Eat-As-Much-As-You-Like", student-friendly restaurants and dodgy cafes that also lined the square.
My favourite all-time film is Pretty Woman, starring Julia Roberts and Richard Gere, with A River Runs Through It, the 1992 movie with a young and dishy Brad Pitt, coming a close second. Just because I'm a Libran, a total sap and believe in happy ever afters — at least when I was younger!
These days, it's any James Bond movie starring Daniel Craig. Because they're always gritty and kick-arse — just like how I like my life to be. Incidentally, I can't wait to catch Craig's latest outing as Bond — the aptly titled No Time to Die! Now where's the popcorn? Oh wait, it's been pushed to next month?
JOY OF MOVIES
Elena Koshy, Specialist Writer and Host
WILL movie-going survive the pandemic? The question sounds both trivial — there are surely graver matters to worry about — and unduly apocalyptic. Movie theatres, after all, are reopening again as life slowly returns to some semblance of normalcy.
It seems rather optimistic. Except that my favourite neighbourhood cinema had been one of those pandemic fatalities, thus breaking my heart and clouding it since with pessimistic gloom. Would cinemas become as redundant as cassette players and Blackberry phones?
I was 5 when I fell in love with cinema. We were watching Jaws in an old theatre, crowded and noisy with parents and kids. I had a packet of Twisties clenched in one hand and a can of Coca-Cola in the other. As the story unfolded, I felt sad, then terrified, and finally happy (Killer shark killed = happily ever after). So much feelings! The emotions were hard, and also thrilling. It was magical.
For years, I've been courted by the magic of cinema. From King Kong to Star Wars, ET to Raiders of the Lost Ark, I loved everything about the movies: being in the company of my father, the glorious technicolour, the applause at the end of films, the excitement of having the fires of your imagination stoked. Days spent throwing off your life, forgetting everything and seeing the world through different eyes.
Like so many businesses, the movie theatre industry has been ravaged by the economic effects of the pandemic. Theatres were starved of audiences when lockdowns went into effect, and studios delayed new releases or, in some cases, put them out on streaming services.
What if the pandemic, rather than representing a temporary disruption in audience habits and industry revenues, turns out to be an extinction-level event for movie-going? What if, now that we've grown accustomed to watching movies in our living rooms or on our laptops, we lose our appetite for the experience of trundling down carpeted hallways, trailing stray popcorn kernels, kuaci shells, and cradling giant cups of Coke Zero, to jostle for an aisle seat and hope all that soda doesn't mean we'll have to run to the bathroom during the big action sequence?
Yet, there's that niggling hope in me that those big theatres of dreams are here to stay despite the odds stacked against them. In that moment, I'm the 5-year-old clutching my Twisties and praying that I won't drink too much coke that I'd run for the toilet in the middle of an exciting movie scene.
I'm still me. I'm still here. Let the magic begin.
