Who still goes to the movies?

Moviegoing isn’t what it used to be. Rising ticket prices, worsening theater etiquette, and lingering effects of the COVID-19 pandemic have all contributed to sagging box office numbers. A survey from October shows the percentage of moviegoers who frequently see films in theaters decreased from 39 percent in 2019 to 17 percent in 2025. In another poll conducted last year, 75 percent of Americans said they had recently opted to stream a movie at home instead of watching it in the theater.

Yet certain groups of dedicated moviegoers are defying those trends, particularly Gen Z audiences. In-theater events, anniversary screenings, and blockbusters with strong social media marketing have shown the most promise in filling seats, but recent releases shouldn’t be discounted: Ryan Coogler’s record-breaking Oscar nominee “Sinners” (2025) was shown at AMC Theaters in January for the fourth time, not even a year since its opening.

What is bringing some audiences back to theaters when it’s more convenient and cost-effective to watch at home? In a conversation edited for clarity and length, we asked Nathan Roberts, filmmaker, professor, and head instructor at Harvard Extension School, what he’s learned in six years of teaching his course “Why Do Movies Move Us?: The Psychology and Philosophy of Filmgoing.”

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The last six years have highlighted the attendance problem facing theaters, but among groups that buck those trends you’d almost think it’s a non-issue.

There’s always been a kind of ritual aspect of going to the cinema that I feel has grown. When something becomes more of a niche activity, it can gain popularity for those who take it seriously. There is a certain identity associated with that activity, a kind of doubling down. There’s a similar kind of ownership that I’ve seen people taking with film that, in some ways, has to be taken if you’re going to justify going out of your way to go to the theater when it’s easier to watch something at home.

When there’s an event or specialness to a certain film, it tends to do well, but when people think of event cinema, they tend to think of things that are really big — films that are expensive, films that are lavish — but I also feel like something to pay attention to is how the event-ness isn’t just a question of size, but a question of delight in collective experience. People who like concerts can go to big festivals, but true lovers of live music often will enjoy going to a smaller venue with an artist they really love, where it feels like there’s a kind of intimacy. I’m curious to see to what degree we can discern whether collective intimacy is as important, if not more important, than the bigness or splashiness of the event. A recent example is the film “Send Help” (2026), which is unique as it held consistently at the box office despite losing screens. It’s a very fun film to watch with the crowd because not only are transgressive things happening — there are some sequences that are kind of violent and crazy — but there’s this psychological element to how these two characters relate, which makes it so fun to see with a full house and people reacting. I think it is a sign that an original studio film — not a piece of intellectual property — can actually do quite well and maintain longevity because of how fun it is to watch with an audience.

Is there really a measurable difference between seeing movies at home versus in the theater?

In one study from 2021, they found that it’s not only hardcore cinephiles who like going to the movies. There’s actually an emotional component to how people respond to films that differs depending on whether they watch them in the theaters or at home. That said, empirical studies are difficult because there are so many independent variables that go into every single experience of film viewing. I think that’s why a lot of the scholarship on this issue has been phenomenological, largely drawing on and thinking through aspects of personal experience that can be shared, but come from a subjective place rather than an objective one.

How do reissues fit into the conversation?

Reissues are in part, a response to the broader problems at the box office: a lack of theatrically distributed films across the board. A lot of these theaters — AMC Theatres and so on — are built with a number of auditoriums that are not necessarily being fully utilized. There’s empty space and the theater isn’t making money. So regardless of the number of people who go to these reissues, offering the possibility for people to buy tickets and come to see these films is only a net gain for the theater.

There’s also the question of differentiating the theater experience from the home experience. Home theaters are great — now you can get huge televisions, but you can’t match the quality of IMAX at home. A lot of these reissues are in IMAX, including films not shot on IMAX. One of the more interesting and strange reissues, in my opinion, was “Black Swan” (2010) in IMAX last year. That film was shot on 16 mm, and IMAX is 65 mm. There must have been some post-production processes that they did in order to make it look good when it was blown up to IMAX, but that, to me, suggests that the reason for the reissue is not necessarily even a means of showing the film in the best possible way, but providing a sensory experience for a viewer that they simply can’t have at home. There’s a long history of Hollywood cultivating technologies for theaters to differentiate themselves from home television distribution. It feels to me like this is a continuation of that process. I do wonder if people are thinking, “Wow, this film was amazing to watch at home, how cool would it be to actually see it on the big screen, or to see it in IMAX?” Re-releases offer an opportunity for people who, the first time around, weren’t motivated to see it on the big screen, to catch a full sensory experience of a film.

Given how many don’t make it to theaters, are filmmakers still making movies with the theatrical experience in mind?

This is one of the places where it’s important to differentiate between what studios desire and what filmmakers desire. Filmmakers desire to create immersive collective experiences, because those are often the experiences that made them love and want to make films in the first place. It’s only, in my experience, industry incentives that push against that. On the extreme end of the spectrum, something that has grown as a way to make money while the film industry is floundering are these so-called “vertical dramas,” literally designed to be watched on the phone. Often, they’re low production value, nonunion projects that don’t pay very well. From my point of view, living in Los Angeles, being a filmmaker, having talked to filmmakers, I don’t know a single one who’s like, “I can’t wait to make this vertical drama,” or “I can’t wait to make something that people watch at home on streaming.” This is continually backed up by things that you can read in the press and hear at award ceremonies where filmmakers say, “Keep theaters alive!” “Go to theaters!” Part of the desire is to create an image that is so detailed and full that it can be appreciated on a big screen, to craft a kind of overwhelming or sensory experience. There’s a delight in creating a 5.1 surround-sound experience that can only be had on the quality sound system of a theater.

So why do movies move us?

Every time you go to sit down and see a film with a group of people or by yourself, there’s always something that is going to be moving in a new and different way. That is what gives me hope in filmgoing: There isn’t a preset way of how movies move us. There are always possibilities for new forms and new ways of being moved, and new ways of forming collectivities, whether it’s seeing films in the theater, gallery, or seeing films at home. The lack of predictability, or the lack of predictable response, is a beautiful thing.