Repertory cinema and the making of a modern cinephile

By Sam Bitman

Vidiots Eagle Theater is one of many independent theaters to watch repertory cinema. (Photo by Sam Bitman)

Amanda Salazar is witnessing the rise of modern cinephilia at her local independent theater—Vidiots’ Eagle Theater in Los Angeles—of which she is the head of programming. Like many other programmers, she notes an increase in pre- versus post-pandemic audience engagement with repertory, or rep, cinema—a special type of cinema that focuses on screening old films, classics and deep cuts, as opposed to first-run, or new, releases. She credits this rise in interest to how we spent our time in lockdown.

“COVID offered this film school to people where they were able to essentially deep dive and return to things they would have never watched, and it therefore opened up the world of repertory to them,” Salazar said.

When the world shut down more than five years ago, we all searched for ways to keep ourselves entertained. Some of us got weirdly into baking bread (sourdough, specifically) for fun. For many others, however, their source of entertainment was movies. And for a subsection of them, the pandemic was a chance to take their relationship with movies a step further, forming an encyclopedic knowledge of film history from the comfort of their own homes.

In turn, this time and practice accidentally birthed a new generation of cinephiles—lovers of cinema—whose taste, literacy and dialogue are among the richest we’ve possibly ever seen. These modern cinephiles carry on outside the home through programmers like Salazar, who screen repertory cinema at independent theaters.

Vidiots regularly programs a mix of repertory cinema and first-run films, ranging from blockbusters to indie works. (Photo by Sam Bitman)

Unlike many of those trends that came and went during the pandemic, modern cinephilia has only continued to grow over the last five or six years because it is supported by two key pillars. The first, of course, is the aforementioned rep cinema at independent theaters. The second, however, is popular social media platforms like Letterboxd. In many ways, these two elements are such successful tentpoles for the thriving cinephile community because they work in conjunction.

With a newfound acute awareness and love of film history, cinephiles are seeking out rep screenings as frequently as—if not more than—new releases. After all, the opportunity to see Robert Altman’s The Long Goodbye (1973) projected in beautiful celluloid is simply too special an evening to pass up.

This leads them to the independent theaters, which are programmed by people like Salazar who have just as deep of a film knowledge and appreciation as their audiences, typically even deeper, and therefore can forecast what their communities may want to see on the big screen for the first time.

After seeing a rep title in theaters, cinephiles of all ages tend to flock to Letterboxd to log the experience and share their thoughts—whether that be a star rating or written review—with friends and family. As Abe Beame, a freelance writer who recently wrote about the rise of repertory for The Ringer, said, “everybody gets to be like a little [Roger] Ebert.”

This action, while simple, is incredibly effective in fostering a wider sense of online community that is built on the shoulders of micro-communities found in each and every independent theater rep screening in America. By having spaces to interact with fellow cinephiles in-person or online, people are becoming more nuanced in their taste and how they engage with or talk about film. That only continues to bring them back to these rep screenings as they build on-going dialogues, receive recommendations or look for new ways to expand their palates (and in some cases, just want bragging rights for seeing a movie that is typically harder to find).

“It’s a mixture of a popular culture that might leave some curious people hungry to find better art that’s out there. And then also, technology has enabled people to kind of connect with each other and educate each other in a way they hadn’t been able to previously,” Beame said.

Beame believes that modern cinephilia and this current repertory movement is in many ways a reaction to the current state of affairs in the first-run movies major Hollywood studios are currently churning out, or as he puts it more bluntly, “the death of quality.”

“You have a situation where you’re not going to the theater every week like you were when I was a kid and catching a blockbuster like Jerry Maguire, Schindler’s List or Jurassic Park,” Beame said. “I’m not saying they don’t make those movies anymore, but not with the same frequency. And then culture, I think, has really changed. The internet and sort of film culture online has made kids aware of films and filmmakers and kind of a whole aesthetic and field of interest that was completely remote to me when I was a kid.”

By having all of these older titles easily available to see at home or out at a rep screening, today younger people are learning what appeals to them and who they consider in their personal pantheons of auteurs much quicker than they normally would have. Names like Speilberg, Lucas, Scorsese, and Kubrick have been household names forever, but now cinephiles are making room for the Friedkins, Gilliams and Wenders of the world—and so many other filmmakers in-between. It’s not just that the general knowledge and taste is expanding, but cultural appreciation and respect is expanding alongside it.

As all of these factors of modern cinephilia grow, independent theaters and the nonprofits have thrived, but they also feel an onus to keep the theatrical aspect alive. By doing this, they are doing their part to continue cultivating not just a relationship with the movies and filmmakers themselves, but with the overall experience of seeing it the way it was intended to be seen—something that has been practiced for as long as movies have been made.

“I’ve seen a great young generation of cinephiles discover movies and living in Los Angeles is probably a paradise in that sense because of how many theaters are here,” Chris LeMaire, the senior director of the American Cinematheque, based in Los Angeles, said. “You can see a new movie, but you can also on a Wednesday go see The French Connection (1971). We’re doing our part to keep the theatrical experience alive, that’s what our mission is, and we want the multiplexes to thrive [too]. I think it’s connected in a sense that people just want to go to the movies, whether it’s one or the other.”

While the overall experience of seeing a movie may be connected between independent theaters and multiplexes, moviegoers appear to be split into two camps between those that choose to attend rep screenings and those that stick with first-run, IP-driven releases in multiplexes. The reason behind that, many of the programmers seem to believe, may have to do with nostalgia.

The Nostalgia Factor

In today’s Hollywood, the studio and the audience are a tale of two nostalgias: restorative and reflective. Restorative nostalgia looks at the past as a “golden age” and strives to recreate it in an effort to relive those glory years. Reflective nostalgia, on the other hand, accepts the past as is, acknowledging that things are created the way they are for a reason, and therefore should remain untouched and appreciated over time. Restorative nostalgia is centered around recreation, whereas reflective is not at all.

Major Hollywood studios, whose main goal is to make a profit, operate under restorative nostalgia. While the creation of sequels, prequels and films based on existing IP has been a staple of the studio system for decades now, there has been a noticeable uptick in the last decade or two. The reason for creating these films which live off of the legacy of original works is this belief that people will want to relive the memories they once had with the original, while simultaneously forming a relationship and making new memories with the latest work.

This is an idea that has been around well before the birth of cinema, but appears to be largely effective commercially within the current movie landscape. Whether it be a fourth iteration of the ‘Captain America’ franchise or a young, respected auteur’s remake of the gothic vampire classic, Nosferatu (2024), these films are making massive profits for their studios. Just take a look at the current domestic box office and see how much of it is filled with movies that would be considered restorative nostalgia:

Of the top twenty movies, all but four are restorative nostalgia films. When the studios look at this from a strictly financial standpoint, there doesn’t appear to be a problem. In fact, they’d argue quite the opposite. Clearly audiences are responding to those movies enough to spend their hard earned money to go see them in theaters.

However, perhaps this response is only because these films are all audiences are being given to see. In other words, they aren’t being given the option to see a movie that would be considered reflective nostalgia in theaters. It’s simply restorative nostalgia, or nothing. If audiences aren’t being given an opportunity to see original stories or rep cinema, then how do we ever know what they really want to see?

Two recent releases may help answer that question.

Ryan Coogler’s Sinners (2025) has been a worldwide cultural phenomenon since it released in theaters on April 18. The vampire period-piece centered around blues music in the Mississippi Delta is a wholly original story from the mind of Coogler—the first of his rich filmography. The movie has rightfully been celebrated for being just that. Its commercial success—currently sitting comfortably at number three in the box office just weeks since its release—shows that audiences are as hungry for original movies as they appear to be for those that are built on IP.

More clearly connected to the want for reflective nostalgia, however, is the movie that competed alongside Sinners. George Lucas’s Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith (2005) celebrated its twenty-year anniversary this year with a major re-release in theaters across the country, otherwise known as repertory screenings. The movie, ironically, is a sequel in its own right. It was widely disliked in 2005—though still looked at the most favorably of the prequels— but has come back into favor among audiences after some time, and thanks to the fact that many of the children who saw it then are now adults. This newfound love and appreciation, mixed with a childhood attachment factor, has turned out a major profit in the box office in a similar effect to Sinners. Since April 25, Revenge of the Sith has risen all the way to 22 on the current domestic box office list and stands out as the lone repertory movie. Most notable is the domestic box office results the weekend after the movie opened back in theaters:

1. Sinners — $45M
2. Revenge of the Sith — $25M
3. The Accountant 2 —$24M
4. A Minecraft Movie — $22M
5. Until Dawn — $8M

An original, a repertory, a sequel, and two new films based off existng video games. What this list signifies is that audiences seem to be responding stronger to reflective nostalgia, or original works and repertory cinema, when given the opportunity. This is not to say that they don’t believe in restorative nostalgia at all. Of course that isn’t the case. Otherwise, The Accountant 2, A Minecraft Movie and Until Dawn wouldn’t be right below the original and repertory titles. But audiences are clearly choosing the latter when given the option in theaters.

While this may seem surprising, it shouldn’t be. Just ask the independent theaters across the country who have been at the forefront of screening rep and original titles for decades now. While their rep screenings may not be reflected in the box office, independent theaters will tell you that they’ve seen a spike in attendance that many of their programmers believe to be linked to a reflective nostalgia for older movies.

“Particularly folks under the age of 25 maybe didn’t grow up with the theater going experience that folks in my age range, as an elder or millennial, did,” Kate Markham, the managing director of Arthouse Convergence, a non-profit organization dedicated to bringing together independent theaters and exhibitors across the country, said. “There’s a little bit of nostalgia there for the younger folks to experience some of these things that they didn’t get to experience in their youth.”

A major factor driving audiences, especially the younger ones that Markham is referring to, is this idea that they want to relive a moviegoing experience the same way they did the first time they saw it, or as they heard about from those who were there when the movie first released in theaters. They aren’t interested in seeing a remake or sequel of the movie, especially at home, when they have the opportunity to see the original on the big screen again. That is precisely what reflective nostalgia is at its core—rejecting the new for a chance to experience the old again.

However, not everyone in the independent theater scene subscribes to this idea of nostalgia. “I don’t love the word nostalgia in general because it makes it feel like people are coming to see things just because they are old and don’t understand them,” Rebecca Lyon of the Music Box theater in Chicago said. For Lyon, the reason why audiences are attracted to repertory is much simpler.

“My sort of jaded read is that new films are not very good,” Lyon said.

While this is just Lyon’s personal belief, there may still be some truth to it since there has been an upward trend in rep screenings at theaters like the Music Box over the last five years. If Lyon believes that the new movies aren’t good, then why does she believe audiences are choosing repertory cinema as their alternative, rather than electing to stay home and stream a movie?

“People are looking around being like ‘oh I want to see a movie, what do I go see?’ And there is this feeling of if a movie is a repertory title then there is this guarantee that it’s probably going to be good, either because you’ve heard of it or seen it already and know for a fact that it’s going to be good,” Lyon said. “Or it’s been uplifted by the fact that it’s even being programmed, so it must be a certain quality of film. Whereas when you go see a new movie, it’s just such a crapshoot.”

Repertory screenings serve as a stamp of approval for movies. They let audiences know that the movie is worth seeing if they get the chance. In that way, it can be seen as a collectors item.

“There’s a desire to see things that are in scarce supply,” Markham said.

Markham sees the current moviegoing landscape as not too dissimilar from the ways in which she would interact with her own theater experiences as a kid in the nineties.

“When I was coming up in the late nineties, early aughts, we would save our ticket stubs, right? I had a binder full of ticket stubs,” Markham said. “Now, instead of things like that, it’s Letterboxd. It’s Substack. There’s a new generation of folks that are really embracing these other social tools, like Letterbox, to collect.”

The idea of “collecting” movies through social platforms that allow people to track and share their viewing habits is forcing young moviegoers to think of repertory screenings like baseball cards. The older the card, the rarer and, as a result, the better it is. The same applies to these older, nicher movies. When they screen in an independent theater like the Music Box, people feel it is a chance to add that movie, or card, to their collection. Except instead of a physical collection, it’s a personal encyclopedia of movie knowledge. Beame explains it as “if you have that kind of personality type where you’re sort of obsessive then you’re going to approach films like Pokemon.”

As for the overall idea of nostalgia in moviegoing, Beame’s read on it is that this concept may be reflective of our current times.

“Nostalgia dovetails with sort of the horror of being alive in the current moment, Beame said. “So maybe, as bad as things are in the world, it is a reflection of how much people want to escape into the past.”