Though the first moving pictures were shown in the 1800s and began as a sideshow, they transformed into a main event with the advent of the movie theater. No longer having to go into a tent or side space, people could come to a building whose entire purpose was to transport you from the world you know into a time, place, community, or culture of someone else, to go on adventures, dramas, crime capers, thrillers, horror shows, and all other manner of creative journeys amid the comfort and safety of community. Now, movie theaters are ubiquitous, with most cities having more than one location, typically owned by one of several major theater companies, and the experience is, shall we say, uneven at best. Especially with the cost of creating a home entertainment setup being more in-reach than ever, especially compared to ticket and concession prices, the notion of heading to a theater is no longer what it once was. This fact has only exacerbated by the COVID-19 pandemic, a situation that many still continue to recover from and adapt to even as the virus remains as prevalent as ever. Enter Keith Stata, owner and operator of Highland Cinemas in Kinmount, Ontario, Canada, whose love of movies began at an incredibly early age and has resulted in one of the more unique theaters in the North America. In his feature-film debut, director Matt Finlin introduces the world to Highland Cinemas, to Keith, and to the significance and troubles of movie houses in the documentary The Movie Man, having its world premiere at the Santa Barbara International Film Festival 2024.
Highland Cinemas founder/co-operator Keith Stata in THE MOVIE MAN. Photo courtesy of Door Knocker Media.
Born in Kinmount and working there, Keith knows all of its history down to its founding and the various times nature attempted to take it out. Perseverance seems to course through the veins of its people and, thus, it describes Keith himself. Through a mix of still photos and the rare moving picture, Finlin guides the audience through a Keith-directed exploration of his home life, his youth, and his fascination with film. The seeds from which he would become the theater owner he is come into sharp focus quickly and, as more information is provided, one starts to see behind the film expert, the curator of fantasy, the dreamer of dreams, and sees a shape form of a man who has risked everything in order to touch the realm of fantasy. More than that, not just touch it, but be a steward for later generations. This is what Finlin’s documentary really is about, not just the man and his five-screen theater built in the “middle of nowhere,” but what it means to a community to have a place to go to see films.
Finlin executes this by not just taking us through a guided tour of Keith’s life, his love of cinema, and the history of Highland Cinemas or of the theater itself, he juxtaposes all of this against Kinmount and its people. So when Keith takes us through a hallway dubbed “Memory Lane,” one of the several pathways through Highland that has a special designation and decoration, we come to understand that it’s not just about capturing moments in history from, say, the 1950s, as it is also about including materials that his guests specifically will recognize. There’re photos and news articles of global importance, sure, but also mentioning or including the people of Kinmount. The cinematic knick-knacks, mannequins, and projectors that line the walls are certainly things that Highland guests appreciate for their uniqueness compared to other mainstream cinemas, but it’s the local touches like Memory Lane that make the theater feel directly connected to the community. Over and over, through interviews and captured conversations, Finlin keeps bringing Keith and his motivations back to Kinmount and vice versa. This is a significant tie, which slowly — through the “good times” before COVID-19 appeared and the severe restrictions followed and after the restrictions lifted — comes into sharp focus as the emotional driving element through the entire documentary: no business can survive without its customers, customers who are treated well transform into community, and a community needs art to endure life. Finlin may be exploring Keith as “The Movie Man,” but what’s really going on is an exploration of the necessity of art to make life worth living.
Aerial shot of Highland Cinemas in THE MOVIE MAN. Photo courtesy of Door Knocker Media.
So, let’s cut to the chase here. COVID-19 seriously screwed up a lot of things for people. The mishandling in the beginning can be chalked up to not realizing the severity, but the mismanagement of communication to the general public, the politicization of precautions and measurement, and the “business first” response that took place even as the severity was known, all speaks to greed and callousness rather than caring for people. Recent documentaries like April Wright’s Back to the Drive-in (2022) and Bob Rose’s Token Taverns (2023) document the struggles that business owners faced and the pivots they had to make as a result of (a) the arrival of COVID-19 and (b) the damage the response to the virus made on the entertainment and service industries. Though Finlin’s documentary begins in 2019 and more or less operates as a semi-chronological look at Keith’s life, the inspiration for the theater, and exploring its various unique corners, Finlin starts breaking into the past (portions of 2019 specifically) with news of the then-present (2022) before cutting back to the regular timeline. At first, this is jarring and confusing, but one starts to realize after a while that these cut-backs serve a purpose like a harbinger in a horror film: it’s the warning that you’re coming about an avoidable danger that the mayor in Jaws (1975) is too greedy to do anything about. So when Finlin makes a point to walk us through the location, to have us listen to Keith talk with glee about the film memorabilia, the knick-knacks that go through the “Memory Lane” section, or the various projectors he’s collected over the years, it’s not just so that we get a sense of the space and Keith’s experience with cinema, but so that we understand what’s at stake when/if Highland Cinemas goes under. The in-theater interviews with patrons or “on the street” interviews with Kinmount residents aren’t just about expressing their excitement for seeing a film, but what going to the theater continues to mean for them and how significant a loss to their community Highland Cinemas would mean. The mismanagement of COVID-19 then and now is a persistent threat to businesses like Keith’s precisely because it doesn’t consider the implications of what “back to normal” means in a post-COVID-19 world.
For most folks, the general populace, “back to normal” means going about life without the need for PPE, being able to go where you want, when you want. For folks in the entertainment industry in the modern era, it was never going to be that simple. For a drive-in, you can manufacture social distancing (when that was still applicable as a preventative measure) and not have to worry as much as a standard theater over lost seats or concessions. For a typical theater, however, especially one like Keith’s, Finlin ensures we see that the struggles are more like how many people can be sat in a 70 seat theater and still be profitable? If Keith’s already struggling with staffing pre-pandemic, how will he manage it now under great restrictions? He’s only able to be open a few months out of the year due to weather conditions for the area, how will he make up for regular business costs and maintenance when he’s been closed for nearly two sessions due to COVID-19 restrictions and the provincial support doesn’t include businesses like his with a less traditional business season? This doesn’t even get into new technologies from within the theatrical industry that’re meant to update and make easier the screening of films, yet is constantly breaking down and utilizes technology that’s far harder to troubleshoot than a traditional projector. Well, at least for someone like Keith who’s been using camera equipment since the 8 mm, working on a traditional projector is child’s play. Plus, going back to the ease of home viewing, something big city theaters struggle to combat as more films are released on streamers without the intent of either being shown or having long-running periods in theaters — how is Keith supposed to battle that, too? All of these issues, compounded with his own age (70s), result in a great deal of problems that aren’t fixed by going “back to normal” via handwave but in recognizing that people, on an individual level, need real solutions to problems.
Highland Cinemas founder/co-operator Keith Stata in THE MOVIE MAN. Photo courtesy of Door Knocker Media.
Theaters don’t really make money and the people who run them aren’t in it to get rich, they do it for the art. They do it because memories are made in movie houses. It could be the place you saw your first film, took your first date, or became the sanctuary that took you away from incredible childhood trauma. A place where miracles happen, the good guys win, and adventures of the heart or spirit can take you anywhere, anytime. Theaters are a place of magic and possibility, something that Keith Stata has given his life to ensuring carries on after he goes. But what are we doing for the Keith’s of the world? How are we ensuring that this tradition carries on? Sure, we can cue up nearly any film at any time at home, relaxing with our home theater systems, and big screen televisions, but even a weak theatrical experience (and there are plenty of places around the Charlotte, North Carolina, area that fit that description) can be a memorable one with the right film and the right audience. Finlin’s The Movie Man reminds us that there’s always someone behind the curtain and it’s our social responsibility to care for them, too.
Screening during Santa Barbara International Film Festival 2024.
For more information, head to the official Door Knocker Media The Movie Man website.
Final Score: 4 out of 5.
Share this:
Categories: In Theaters, Reviews
Leave a Reply