John Foley Published September 28 2026 Jump to comments section Print this page Unlock the Editor’s Digest for free Roula Khalaf, Editor of the FT, selects her favourite stories in this weekly newsletter. If there were an Oscar for cinematic camp, Nicole Kidman’s ad for AMC Theatres would be a shoo-in. US audiences cringe and cackle as the Australian actress, clad in spangly pinstripe and stilettos, sinks into a “signature recliner” and stagily whispers that “we come to this place for magic”.

The so-bad-it’s-iconic promo, by some estimates viewed half a billion times already, has inspired Halloween outfits, TV skits and a White House propaganda video. Many New Yorkers may soon have to find their cinematic magic elsewhere. AMC is closing one of its largest cinemas in the city, provoking much hand-wringing.

The closure has galvanised community groups, more than 10,000 petition signatories and even local lawmakers, including Assemblyman Keith Powers, who describes the fight to protect Kips Bay AMC as “the single biggest issue” on which he has been engaged in his current role. I have not signed the “Save the AMC Kips Bay” petition, but like many residents of the eastern side of Manhattan, I will be sad when it closes its doors. Charmless decor and unremarkable environs aside, I am a huge fan of its ample reclining seats.

But I’m also surprised at how much I, or my fellow film-goers, care. In the age of streaming, the general narrative has been that the traditional cinema is as doomed as Drew Barrymore in the first Scream movie. Five years ago, media mogul Barry Diller declared the movie business “finished”, saying 90 per cent of theatres would close within a few years.

And when Netflix made a bid for Warner Bros Discovery last year, it was assumed that the streaming giant would eventually stop distributing WBD’s movies in theatres. Netflix denied this. Even so, surely only a sentimental boomer would want to watch films in a sticky-floored room of fidgety, popcorn-strewing strangers.

But in an unexpected plot twist, the cinema is back like Neve Campbell in the latest Scream movie. This summer was the highest-grossing high season on record according to Rentrak data, with $4.8bn of ticket sales in the US, of which $1.5bn came from two blockbusters: The Odyssey and Spider-Man: Brand New Day. And it wasn’t just nostalgic olds who went to see them.

A survey by ticketing and streaming service Fandango showed that nine in 10 Gen Zs went to the movies at least once in the previous year, versus six out of ten baby boomers. Maybe this isn’t so surprising. New York’s young folks like doing things en masse: witness the endless queues for frozen yoghurt, $60 loaves of sourdough and photo booths.

Cinema has turned into a social occasion, as film-goers post their post-viewing hot takes on Tik Tok’s #filmtok community or Letterboxd, the social media platform for cinephiles. Movie theatres are now akin to “community centres”, says Peter Saraf, chair of the undergraduate film programme at NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts. Moreover, going to the cinema may tap into something more profound: the secret desire of a cell phone-native generation to get offline. “Attention is a valuable commodity,” Saraf suggests.

Taking two hours (plus 52 minutes in the case of The Odyssey) to sit in a dark room, mostly disconnected from one’s phone, is an occasional luxury worth paying for. Is this enough to save movie theatres in the long term? Cinemas are making more money, but the economics may be deceptive. AMC has 5 per cent fewer screens than it did at the end of 2023, but charges 8 per cent more per ticket globally, and makes over 15 per cent more per person for concessions like popcorn and fizzy drinks.

Audiences’ willingness to spend more on “experiences” like Imax — Kips Bay is one of four such giant screens in Manhattan — bumps up revenue but not necessarily attendance. Either way, the resurgence is unlikely to save my local cinema. NYU Langone Health, purchaser...