The Pandemic, 'Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood,' and the End of Theatrical Moviegoing as We Know It

By the time Quentin Tarantino’s ‘Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood’ debuted in theaters on the evening of July 25^th, 2019, it had already been hailed as the end of a certain era of big-budget, auteur-driven filmmaking. At a time when the most popular films were sequels (‘Spider-Man: Far From Home,’ ‘Toy Story 4’) and remakes (‘The Lion King,’ ‘Aladdin’), and the title of the most successful movie of all time finally shifted from James Cameron’s groundbreaking ‘Avatar’ to the massive cross-over event of ‘Avengers: Endgame,’ it wasn’t difficult to imagine a narrowing theatrical space, in which it would be impossible for a studio to hand a filmmaker like Tarantino $100 million dollars to perfect his lengthy, idiosyncratic vision.

The feeling of an era’s sudden conclusion was part of the discourse around ‘Once Upon a Time’ since its premiere at the Cannes Film Festival—in the moments after its first Cannes screening, critic Charles Bramesco tweeted simply “the end of an era,” and it’s a phrase that continued to appear in conversations as the film was shown more widely. Of course, Tarantino’s film is expressly about the end of an era: the transition from Old Hollywood to the brave new world of the 1970s. It’s a transition that, in the real course of history, was marked by shocking violence: namely, the murder of Sharon Tate (Margot Robbie) and several others by followers of Charles Manson and his white supremacist gang. And it’s a transition that the film attempts to rewrite, by inserting fictional actor Rick Dalton (Leonardo DiCaprio) and stuntman Cliff Booth (Brad Pitt) into the story for some particularly violent historical revisionism. In this manner, the content of the film and its very existence are both attempting to resist an era’s end—one by fictionally changing history’s real events in 1969, and another by simply existing as a beacon from another cinematic era in 2019.

‘Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood’ was indeed a global hit—not enough of a hit to launch a wave of copycats, but still, a hit. Sony probably recouped their investment in the end, and the film went on to win Oscars for Best Production Design and Best Supporting Actor; who else but Brad Pitt could have portrayed the lovably dangerous Cliff? But nearly one year later, it still feels like the end of an era—a film that could have only existed at one particular moment in time. We will never see a movie like ‘Once Upon a Time’ again—at least not in theaters. Contrary to what others have suggested, ‘Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood’ was not a representation of the “end of cinema”—instead, it marked the end of a very particular moment of communal theatrical movie-going. Great original movies continued to be released throughout the fall—Bong Joon-ho’s utterly invigorating ‘Parasite,’ Greta Gerwig’s fantastic rendition of ‘Little Women,’ Josh and Benny Safdie’s anxiety attack ‘Uncut Gems,’ and many more. But ‘Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood’ felt like the end, even if I didn’t know how final it would be.

Movies will continue on, and we’ll forever be better for it. Martin Scorsese’s ‘The Irishman’ was also discussed in elegiac tones upon its release in November 2019, though it was often presented as a counter-example to Tarantino’s film. Here is a film from Martin Scorsese—a leading voice in the New Hollywood movement—that simply could not be funded by a major studio: its budget was too hefty, and its de-aging technology too ambitious. Instead, Scorsese, in an attempt to get his vision properly funded, fled to Netflix, who put up the $200 million + budget without breaking a sweat. While the film played in some theaters, it was a limited run—I felt immensely lucky to have seen it in theaters at a press screening. For filmmakers like Scorsese, Spike Lee (whose tremendous ‘Da 5 Bloods’ recently premiered to rave reviews on Netflix), and maybe even Tarantino, Netflix and other streaming services may ultimately be the wave of the future.

This was already happening prior to March 2020. But then the pandemic hit. Four months later, we’re really only beginning to see the impact it will have on Hollywood in the years ahead. An entire calendar of big-budget movies was wiped away in a Thanos-like snap. Studios stopped production. Theaters closed their doors. Streaming became everyone’s best friend. The future of movies—and the future of moviegoing—were both halted in their tracks. And in the face of a pandemic that has killed 140,000 people and counting in the United States, the potential death or massive overhaul of the movie business is unimportant. None of this could matter less.

I am not the first person to remark that we’re lucky to have gotten ‘Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood’ when we did. Everyone seems to instinctively know it. But my personal experience with this change—and my connection to last summer’s Tinseltown epic—struck me recently, and I feel it’s worth sharing.

For nearly 3 years, starting during my senior year of high school in January 2017, I worked at the Regal Ballantyne Village Stadium 5 in Charlotte, North Carolina. At the time I joined the team, we were one of three arthouse theaters in Charlotte. Ballantyne Village had five screens, and it mostly catered to an older cinephile demographic who couldn’t be bothered running into all of the kids at the multiplex. The programming was an eclectic mix of Oscar-pandering biopics, A24 titles, and indie movies that even I hadn’t heard of. We made most of our money between the months of October and January, the peak of Hollywood’s annual Oscar season.

Like all minimum wage jobs, working at a movie theater as a floor staff member wasn’t exactly my idea of a good time—the pay was middling, the geriatric customers could be cranky, and the hours were often weird (it wasn’t uncommon to stay until we closed at 1 AM). But the job came with its perks, too—free movie tickets at other theaters (for a while), free posters, and the ability to hang out at the theater whenever we wanted. More importantly, our staff got along swimmingly: most of the people who worked there had done so for years, and we were pros at the game. It was a good environment, and I think most people enjoyed being there.

In the summer of 2019, our programming began to change slightly: we were booked for films like ‘Avengers: Endgame’ and ‘The Lion King,’ which were films that we never would have played before. Disney was able to flex their muscles and give us whatever they wanted. Throughout the entire summer, I remained baffled. Why give us movies that don’t connect with our clientele at all? Why not play things like ‘Rocketman’ or ‘Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood’? At some point, someone must have listened, because we eventually did receive a booking for Tarantino’s film. After a summer of empty theaters and low attendance, we finally had a film that brought our customers back to the theater.

Maybe it was my own anticipation for the film, but it felt like an event. It was not a uniformly popular film among our crowd—the violent ending was hotly debated, and the preceding two hours were often met with boredom from some impatient customers. But the debate was invigorating at times, and it was fun to walk into the theater and see the reactions to some of the bigger moments. Better yet, when I was finished cleaning up the concession stand at the end of the night, I would go sit in the theater and watch the final half hour of the film—I’ve probably seen Brad and Leo kill the Manson followers a dozen times, even if I always wince at the same moments. When I saw the film for a second time (during its opening weekend, no less) with my dad at Ballantyne Village, it felt good to see a real, genuine movie-movie at a place that meant so much to me.

Regal Ballantyne Village Stadium 5 closed on February 9, 2020. The closing was only announced two weeks before. It was swiftly replaced by office space, part of Ballantyne’s grand plan to sacrifice any of its notable cultural spots at the altar of almighty growth. It was the second arthouse theater to close in Charlotte (Regal Park Terrace 6 closed in 2017, revamped as an AMC Dine-In), but it wouldn’t be the last—recently, Regal Manor Twin, one of the most beloved cultural institutions in all of Charlotte, closed due to the pressures of the pandemic. Charlotte now has no dedicated arthouse theaters. It is, for all intents and purposes, a cultural wasteland.

‘Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood’ was not the last film I saw at Ballantyne Village. That distinction belongs to the trash masterpiece known as Tom Hooper’s ‘Cats.’ Before that, I saw films like ‘Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker’ and Lulu Wang’s ‘The Farewell.’ But in my mind, ‘Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood’ will forever be the last movie I really saw there. It’ll be associated with that theater, and its dying days, in my memory.

However, my memorable experiences with ‘Once Upon a Time’ aren’t exclusively linked to the theater where I spent the majority of my time for several years. No, I still remember seeing the film on its opening night with my closest friend at an AMC Theater, waiting for the lights to go down—only for the power to go out at the last minute. I stuck around, my anticipation growing by the minute, and in the end, it was worth every second. When I returned to Chapel Hill for my third semester at the University of North Carolina, I saw the film with friends at the Varsity Theater, a tiny, charming downtown cinema with a distinct odor—it’s like the smell of popcorn has permanently seeped into its walls. It was another great experience, and it was, as always, fun to see reactions to the ending.

Will AMC Theaters still be open when this is all over? Will the Varsity still hold its place in Chapel Hill’s downtown? Or will the pandemic accelerate the university’s desire to replace it with a performing arts space? I don’t know—and neither does anyone else.

When movie theaters eventually reopen, they will not be the same. We’ve already seen constant adjustments to the game plans from the major multiplexes, and while they sound feasible, they also sound torturous. No matter how badly Christopher Nolan wants to save the theatrical experience with ‘Tenet,’ he can’t save it from a simple fact: the experience of sitting down in an enclosed space for 3 hours will not be the same again for several years. If the vague threat of mass shootings during blockbuster opening weekends didn’t already ruin the tranquility of that space for many (and for me, it certainly took a while to readjust to that threat), the possibility of catching the coronavirus will make everyone hyper-aware of their surroundings. Every armrest, seat cushion, and once-harmless sneeze from nearby movie-goers is now a threat.

Some people simply will not care—from the footage of blowout pool parties and not-so-socially-distant gatherings, it’s clear that a percentage of the population has no consideration for the threat of COVID-19 and would rather get on with daily life. For those of us with a vested interest in the culture industry, movie-going will become a chore—a calculated risk rather than a pleasure. And it’s a risk that we’ll minimize whatever the costs—maybe I’ll don the mask and the gloves to see ‘Tenet,’ but I surely won’t be doing the same for ‘Mulan.’ I once saw every blockbuster in theaters—now, I’ll be considering my options.

With patrons carefully considering their moviegoing habits, it’s safe to say that the business itself will change. The way movies are made, funded, and distributed—it’s all about to be changed forever. B and C-level titles are already being shifted to VOD (‘Bill and Ted Face the Music,’ which could have been a breakout hit, is now set for an online release), and if the pandemic continues to rage on, more titles will likely make that choice. Furthermore, what happens if ‘Tenet’ arrives in theaters and completely flops? What if nobody shows up? What if the second wave ends up re-closing theaters, destroying the September-December calendar that studios have so precariously put together? In that event, the impending bankruptcy of theaters across the country becomes a real risk. Studios will then be re-building the theatrical landscape from the ground up, and the whole industry will suddenly be different.

Beyond inactive government leaders, nobody could have seen this coming—the magnitude of it all defies comprehension, and movie theaters are just one small part of the equation. For all its melancholic vibes and its depiction of extended time in the world of Hollywood history, ‘Once Upon a Time’s place as a harbinger of the end of movie-going could not have anticipated what has taken place in the last several months.

Still, if the cultural objects we venerated with our praise and repeat viewings and endless discussion in 2019 didn’t already represent the end of an era, they sure do now. Just as ‘Endgame’ represents the endpoint of a particular era of blockbusters that, with the growth of Disney +, can now fluidly shift between streaming and theaters, ‘Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood’ will stand as the end of an era for cinephiles. 2020 is the turning point for a whole new world, and what came before will inevitably feel like markers of a bygone past.

Part of what I’ve always found so powerful about ‘Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood’ is its historical revisionism, which, yes, is violent and gruesome, but also poignant and heartfelt in a way that something like ‘Inglourious Basterds’ isn’t. The conversation between Rick, Sharon (Margot Robbie), and Jay Sebring (Emile Hirsch) and the “Miss Lily Langtry” musical cue are devastating, in part because they’re tacit acknowledgments of the ahistorical nature of Tarantino’s narrative. Tarantino gives us 161 minutes of utopian fantasy—and a happy ending as the cherry on top—before bringing reality back into the fold. No matter how potent the fairy tale, history keeps spinning its wheels. We can’t change the past, and we really can’t change the future either. To borrow a phrase from ‘The Irishman:’ “it’s what it is.” I feel that same inevitability now.

******

It’s hard to believe based on the mournful tone of the last several paragraphs, but when I began writing this piece a month ago, things looked more hopeful—or at least the powers that be seemed to outwardly express more hopeful sentiments. As of today, July 26, 2020, things could not look grimmer. Theaters will not be opening until late August in the United States, and when they do, it’ll only be in select theaters in states where the virus is relatively controlled. Only five or six solid blockbusters remain on the 2020 calendar, and there’s already chatter that many of these films will push their release until 2021. Hell, Warner Bros.’ current plan for ‘Tenet’ is less of a solid game plan than a Hail Mary—an attempt to earn anything in the way of revenue, even by means of an immensely faulty plan. Discussing the constant release date hand-wringing, The Washington Post’s Steven Zeitchik acknowledged an uncomfortable truth: if theaters do not return with new product soon, they run the risk of permanently disappearing.

This uncomfortable and harrowing truth coincides with another: in the vast majority of the country, the pandemic still rages uncontrolled. The President, in the hopes of boosting a failing reelection bid, is attempting to push for the hasty reopening of schools, a decision that will absolutely make things worse in many regions of the country. Though he has attempted to course correct on masks, the damage is done. His party and faithful base don’t believe the science—they’ve already demonized Dr. Anthony Fauci, the nation’s top infectious disease expert, for simply doing his job. More than any other country in the world, the U.S. has failed this pandemic. To date, we have seen an immeasurable loss of human life. Based on the projections, there will be much more. It’s simply overwhelming to think about.

The loss of movie theaters does not compare to the deaths of family, friends, and loved ones. But just as the pandemic has wreaked economic havoc across the globe, it may have also directly accelerated the death of an industry that was already struggling to survive. There is a very real chance that the theatrical industry will collapse in the United States—and around the world, if the studios don’t provide enough films to show. I don’t believe that the death of movie theaters will result in the complete disintegration of the theatrical experience—there isn’t THAT much demand for office space. But it will be a complete restructuring, and who knows when all of these problems will be solved.

In a way, I’d like to think that I’ve already come to terms with this massive, earth-shattering change, even though I know I really haven’t. The one bright spot of this ugly, terrifying collective experience has been the ability to watch classic movies at home during the pandemic, a fine substitute even if I’m always perpetually distracted. Still, from Bergman’s ‘Fanny and Alexander’ to Edward Yang’s ‘Yi Yi’ to Powell and Pressburger’s ‘The Red Shoes,’ I’ve watched my fair share of masterpieces in quarantine—much better films than what the vast majority of this summer’s blockbusters would have been.

And yet, I miss going to the movies. We all do.

Today is the one-year anniversary of ‘Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood’s debut in theaters. On Twitter, it has been marked by joy and sadness from its devoted admirers. While several fans have re-circulated their favorite sequences, Jesse Hawken revisited a famous tweet from last year, suggesting that ‘Once Upon a Time’ and ‘The Irishman’ indeed represent an “elegiac farewell to Cinema.” Peter Avellino similarly celebrated the film’s anniversary on Twitter, noting that it now seems as if “this was the last great film” before 2020’s nightmare. How fitting that, for a film so intensely nostalgic, a whole audience of moviegoers now feel nostalgia for its release just a short time ago.

Everyone has their own reasons, but for me, ‘Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood’ represents three endings at one time: the end of Ballantyne Village, the end of college, and the end of the movies. Ballantyne Village is nothing but a memory now—a harbinger of what was to come. College, however, is the more immediate loss. I’ll only likely cruise along the highway, listening to ‘Once Upon a Time’s sensational soundtrack on my way to Chapel Hill, one more time—and that’ll be to return some library books that have been laying dormant in my room since March. I still have classes to take, but college is over. Even if I had decided to go back, it wouldn’t have been the same. Maybe I’ll return for graduation. If we have one.  As for the movies, who knows when I’ll return to theaters. Who knows when the theaters will be ready for audiences again. As I’ve noted above, they simply might not survive. I’ll figure that all out when I get there.

Regardless, on the one-year anniversary of what very well might be my favorite film of its decade, it strikes me that it's fitting ‘Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood’ would be the movie to represent these changes for me. A big screen spectacle, filled with exuberance and hope (and of course, its fair share of controversies). A Hollywood fairy tale, told on the grandest scale. Seeing it and reliving it again and again is an experience I’ve cherished and will continue to cherish for a long time. The music, the performances, and the beautiful depiction of Hollywood’s past will stay with me forever.

I’m so glad we got this movie when we did. And I’m so sad that we’ll never see another like it again.

The end of an era, indeed. Time to say farewell.        

Cheers to one of my favorite films. Stay safe, everyone.