Why The End Credits Matter
With the ever changing modes of movie watching, the death of the movie theater has never felt more imminent. I did not cry over the fade out of the VHS (without the absence of nostalgia) or the DVD and most definitely 3D has not been missed even a little bit, but the loss of theaters will sincerely be just that. The theater is quite literally the longest standing form of movie spectating. That is not to say that it hasn’t evolved both historically and culturally. Of course, consuming movies through different devices is not a replacement, but an evolution of such. These alternative methods have an important place in their own right. This is not to be an aggression against new media, but instead a reminder of what is soon to be lost. For some, the big screen is the closet door to Narnia and others a church pulpit. There is no denying the singular experience of seeing a movie in theaters and it is personally my favorite magic delivery system.
The original inception of this article was sparked after my family and I finished watching Life Itself (2014), a documentary on the late film critic Roger Ebert’s life and death. The film is both emotional and sometimes profound mainly due to the fact that it was above all else a well- rounded representation of a life. As the end credits rolled, the screen became minimal, immediately replaced by an obtrusive ad urging and mildly forcing us to watch the first season of Orange is the New Black. If you haven’t guessed, we watched the movie on Netflix and in doing so, we were subjected to the typical whoring of their original programming that oddly finds itself recommended in every category ever on the platform. This has become standard procedure when you watch a movie on TV or a streaming platform like Netflix. What I’m getting at is the absence of end credits allowed us to cop out of an emotional response. We lost a moment to really feel the weight of the film. It created an escape where we could hide our tears, change the subject, and leave the room. Our lives continued when maybe they should have taken pause. That interruption reduced an experience to a fleeting moment.
The act of home viewing has become routine. I click buttons and am immediately accompanied by an array of “content”. There is no spark of inspiration or excitement around the choices I make. In fact, there is hardly any real effort at all. It has become an all too ordinary activity to simply fill the void of melancholy. That is not to diminish the power of a great film to simply the means by which you consume it.
However, the theater at least in my experience is unique in that it’s one full of rituals. Nowadays, I go to the movies alone; typically, avoiding the multiplex in exchange for the seedy arthouse. This place is a means for the lurkers to lurk. It is not a social gathering but rather one of individual experiences that can only be shared once the lights go on. I sit not elbow to elbow, but in my own row. It is often quiet and secluded. The only sounds emerge from the squeaking of the most uncomfortable seat known to man. The chair draped in dirtied velvet is sure to leave you with what can only be called “I hope that’s not what I think it is” stains and century old popcorn dust.
All of this leading to a singular moment. When the movie ends, my most devoted ritual is to sit and watch the credits. This is not an act of support to the filmmakers, but instead a selfish one. It is a meditation of sorts. A brief moment to grasp what I have just encountered. As that screen goes black, it triggers a culmination of feelings that were not present a moment ago. Perhaps this is all a bit dramatic, but this is something that seems lost outside of the theater and one I’m afraid of losing. Without it, a movie is just a movie. Whether that’s worth a $15 ticket is up to you. To me, that’s why the end credits matter.
Want to find your local arthouse theatre? Click here
Want to learn about ways to help local arthouse theaters? Click here
[This article is revised from its original form which appeared in Profoundly Incoherent]
