Mia Lasic-Ellis

Look. We’ve all heard the rumor. And no, I’m not talking about the “Is Whittier Henry really as devilishly handsome and undeniably charming as they say?” rumor. I’m talking about the far worse one. The chilling whisper around the campfire. “No one goes to the movies anymore. The industry is an embarrassment.”

And yeah, it may be easy to laugh at the LA folk and continue to cocoon in our rooms, streaming and scrolling. But why kick a man while he’s down? Why join in the mockery? Why does Jimmy Stewart sound like that? Why don’t you go back to the movies? Because the truth is: movies are escaping insignificance, and you can bring them back.

Sure, Hollywood has been humiliated, but now and then, even the best of us suffer some humiliation. George H. W. Bush vomiting all over Japan’s Prime Minister tops my personal favorites. I realize that reads like I’m saying Bush is the best of us. Whoops. The point remains: embarrassment is universal. So much so that I feel comfortable sharing a humiliating moment from my young life:

The experience happened near the end of last semester in my History of Film Class with America’s sweetheart Professor of Cinema Studies Tricia Welsch. Our final reading was titled, “The End of Cinema as We Know It – 25 Reasons Why It’s All Over.” The reading described how the movie industry was dying from within due to the inability to make projects, uncertainty regarding theatrical distribution even if they are made and audiences going to fewer and fewer movies even if they are released.

My stubborn optimism refused to accept the fine writing of famed critic and director Winston Wheeler Dixon (for the record, great name). In what was supposed to be a 200-word response, I wrote a 1500-word rant that disavowed all 25 reasons and repeatedly ridiculed Mr. Dixon, who, and I can’t stress this enough, knows far more than I do about the subject. I thought I was hilarious.

I strolled into class the next day, hoping a classmate had read the piece and would laud me for my wit. Instead, Tricia pulled me aside and sternly said, “I read your response, and I want you to know that I’m good friends with Winston.” Yeeeeeeesh. “I also wanted to tell you that you’re wrong.” Woof. “About almost everything.” Should I just drop out? “But I loved it.”

Now, while Tricia could have justifiably failed me and strung me from a rope, her unexpected kindness stems from her firm belief that it is, in fact, not all over. I agree. Movies are not done. Sure, short-form content is having a moment in the sun—I’ve paused writing this six times to scroll reels—but TikTok and Instagram have enjoyed free feasts for too long, and it seems the cinema is stringing its bow.

See, that was a movie reference that you got because you went to the theaters this summer. But my goal here isn’t to empirically prove that Hollywood is returning to glory. Although I will say that ticket sales are up 15 percent globally, 2026 has the biggest projected box office since 2019 and “Wuthering Heights” has proved a movie doesn’t have to be good to make 240 million dollars.

I want you to join in sounding the trumpets. Go witness the revival. Go to the movies.

Think back to when you saw “The Odyssey” this summer and felt the lightning shake you in your seat. Remember when you saw “Tony” and became enamored with doing cocaine on a beach in the ’70s. Or when you saw “Obsession,” and that one friend was like, “Was Bear really the bad guy?” and now you don’t talk to him as much. That’s the magic of movies.

Even with mediocre films, the experience remains truly unique. I attended a packed 1 a.m. “Backrooms” screening and had a ball because I could crack jokes about it after. Going to the theater lets you take in art the way the artist intended, discuss it with peers afterward and eat heaps of candy at 3 p.m. on a Tuesday.

Maybe you hate movies (ew, you’re lame). Still, I implore you to go to the theater with friends (surprised you have any on account that you’re lame) sometime soon. I don’t know if you’ll change your mind. All I know is when the lights go down and the screen gets big and bright, I feel like a little kid again. I hope you will too.

Whittier Henry is a member of the class of 2029.