Are movies okay? It’s the question many have been asking this year—and the concern has only grown since the news broke earlier this month that Netflix, famously dismissive of the theatrical experience, would be acquiring the legendary Hollywood studio Warner Bros., which this year distributed a whopping eight films that topped the opening-weekend box office. (A number of those were also critical successes, including Sinners, F1, Weapons, and One Battle After Another.) Many have predicted the move to augur the final blow to moviegoing as we know it.
That would be a real shame because—cue Nicole Kidman—all movies play best on a huge screen with immersive sound. In this age of constant multitasking—dozens of tabs open, screens split into ever-smaller panes, smartphones always nearby—cinemas offer the rare space that commands focus. Laughing, gasping, crying with fellow moviegoers amplifies the emotional impact. We come to this place for magic—not just to be entertained, but somehow reborn, together. Home viewing just cannot replicate these experiences.
However, as someone who watches movies as part of my job (I’ve logged 220 films this year and counting, with many screened in theaters), I find the moviegoing experience has become less than ideal. I firmly believe many people no longer know how to act in theaters (and indeed most public and many private settings). I have observed some truly egregious moviegoing behavior: noisily eating a fragrant sandwich during the funeral scene in Till; translating Gladiator 2 line by line to your partner in another language during the movie (actually kind of sweet if you think about it, but very distracting nonetheless); the guy who kept leaning over to tell his family to pay attention before every big twist at the Se7en rerelease—and filming every iconic scene for social media.
It’s enough to put a person off theaters entirely. Add in record-high ticket prices, shrinking theatrical windows, increasingly longer movies, and a stunning string of summer releases that simply failed to pique the interest of audiences, and it’s easy to understand why box-office revenue and attendance numbers remain significantly down from pre-pandemic levels.
Enter Metro Private Cinema, a new enterprise to lure moviegoers back with a more bespoke, sophisticated experience. Founded by Tim League (who, in 1997, started Alamo Drafthouse), it opened at the end of October in Chelsea with 20 uniquely designed screening rooms seating four to 20 guests. Groups book the entire room to enjoy a catered meal, drinks, and snacks and watch anything they choose: Metro offers a curated selection of new releases and classics, but given enough advance notice, they can show virtually anything you want to watch. (Broadcast events like the Oscars and sports are on the table; at least one group has watched a wedding video.) Each suite features a wall-to-wall movie screen, impeccable projection, state-of-the-art cinema surround sound, motorized recliners, plush loveseats, a dining-table set, and personalized service.
Last month I gathered seven friends at Metro to watch Wicked: For Good shortly after its release. An upscale, retro, golden-age-of-Hollywood vibe runs throughout the evocatively lit space, and at the well-appointed bar, we toasted with a neon green Wicked-themed cocktail: the Green Elixir, with gin, Luxardo Bitter Bianco, Midori, and Green Chartreuse. We were then led downstairs into a warren of hallways lined with striking vintage movie posters to our cozy suite, with the Wizard of Oz soundtrack playing on a record player and the first course waiting at a dining table.
Each dish had some connection to the Oz universe, from the colors of green (matcha cheesecake) and pink (pickled beet deviled eggs, beet hummus with crudités) to ingredients with Kansas origins (crispy sunchokes, dandelion green salad with sunflower-seed vinaigrette) and those mentioned in the pages of the Oz books (curried pumpkin soup, pickled artichokes, lemon poppy madeleines). It was all very tasty—though the goat-tongue carpaccio was perhaps an insensitive nod to Doctor Dillamond.
Setting the evening’s tone were our enthusiastic and watchful servers, who guided us through the experience and hyped up every aspect; they never allowed our glasses to go empty, which enhanced the festive atmosphere and lively conversation. (The drink package includes a nice variety of alcoholic and nonalcoholic beverages.) After the main course, the table was cleared and pushed back and we settled into four sofa seats and, behind them on a platform, four recliners. After the movie began, we were served a dessert plate, a big bowl of popcorn, and, of course, more drinks (you indicate refills with a subtle hand signal).
I found the film to have less energy, spectacle, and charm than the original Wicked—but the sound and projection were terrific. Afterward, we lingered over our final drinks to chat; four of the group had not seen the first Wicked film last year, so some explanation was needed.
It ended up being a delightful, singular cinema experience that I’d gladly do again with the right film, ideally something that prompts a rousing audience reaction. (Many of us had visceral, audible reactions during Wicked: For Good’s spicy bedroom scene.) Last year’s Challengers, for example, would be perfect at Metro, or this year’s Marty Supreme or KPop Demon Hunters for the kiddos, or any cherished classic film that people know by heart (I’d pick Auntie Mame for the holidays). Our experience came out to $200 per person before tip, with $100 for the menu, $50 for the drinks package, and a $50 per-seat fixed fee. Given what you’d pay for a similar experience at a restaurant and a dine-in movie theater—where you certainly would not have all the comforts of a private meal and cinema—that seems reasonable. Plus, none of that bad movie-theater behavior (or such behavior is tolerable because you’re all friendly).
Should you be looking for New Year’s Eve plans, you can gather a group to screen When Harry Met Sally and afterward stay in the suite to watch the Times Square ball drop with a Champagne toast. And if you can round up a larger crew, the 20-person room looks like a lot of fun: one long dining table and a massive screen (a celebrity had booked that for a daylong Thanksgiving movie marathon when I went).
A shake-up is undoubtedly coming to moviegoing, and the movie-theater experience could certainly be improved regardless. Theaters like Metro Private Cinema offer a new path forward. Indeed, a recent Bain Co. research report on how movie theaters can fill seats again suggested that “successful companies will invest in premiumization, personalization, and partnerships to draw people back to theaters.” After all, it concluded: “Audiences haven’t abandoned theaters; they need a more compelling reason to go.”
