Places
Documentary filmmaker Levi Holwell explores the world of struggling movie houses and the people sometimes letting go of these vital community spaces
Levi Holwell first noticed Alberta’s old cinemas while location scouting for new film projects. “I always clocked the movie theatre in these towns,” he says. “I wondered how these theatres were doing. It must be tough going.” Holwell wondered, too, about who operated these venerable movie houses. “I figured that the people running them in a place like Stettler or Drumheller might be interesting individuals and have an interesting story.” So, as an independent filmmaker, Holwell travelled across the province to answer these questions.
In his 44-minute feature documentary Magic Hours, which is now out on CBC Gem, Holwell takes viewers on an Alberta road trip to document the province’s independent cinemas and, especially, the characters who struggle to keep them alive.
During his travels, Holwell discovered that the cinema owners weren’t necessarily resident cinephiles and movie nerds but individuals with unique stories, each dedicated to serving their communities. In High River, Alta. for example, Syed and Rehana Kidwai own and operate the Wales Theatre. At the time of its inception in 1927, the theatre was one of the most well-equipped movie houses in the province. The Wales has survived a flood, a pandemic, and all the vagaries of Alberta’s economy. Today, the Wales faces the constantly changing film industry.
One of the largest threats to these indie cinemas is something Holwell calls “quiet apathy.” Community members might outwardly declare their nostalgic love for the local movie house and root for its survival. But, in the end, they won’t patronize the place. What’s on the screen matters, of course.
Small town movie houses cannot operate like art house indie cinemas in cities like Calgary and Edmonton. Bergman and Kurosawa films, for all their brilliance and artistic relevance, won’t sell enough popcorn in High River. “Cinema owners want movies that people will leave the house to go see,” says Holwell. “And it’s hard in 2024 to know what type of movie that is.”
Movie watchers have grown accustomed to viewing films streamed into our living rooms or smartphones, half-watching while we wash dishes or fold laundry. One eye is kept on our movie, while the other is on our Instagram or TikTok feeds. We pause our movies mid-scene to answer a text, put the kids to bed, or fetch another beer from the fridge.
Many movie watchers undoubtedly appreciate the autonomy streaming offers. However, cinephiles like Holwell would rather give up this sovereignty and surrender to the cinema’s dark interiors.
Movie houses demand our full attention. “When you go to the theatre, you’re exclusively spending your time on one thing, which is trying to fully invest yourself in the film,” says Holwell. “I just don’t think you ever give yourself that level of attention when you’re at home.” Part of the joy of actually going to a movie is engaging with something exclusively and intently – a rarity in our scatterbrained age. The cinema gifts us a couple of hours worth of reprieve from digital distraction.
As a filmmaker, Holwell was drawn to the human experience within these hallowed buildings as well as to the visual beauty of the structures themselves.
Many of these small-town cinemas rank among the oldest buildings in their communities. And while cinemas were built according to a designer’s idea of what a movie house should look like, each is completely unique. “Whether you think they’re beautiful aesthetically or what other people might consider rundown, I love them all immensely,” says Holwell. After all, even the most neglected movie houses were “purpose-built to romanticize something about being human: storytelling.” With the belief that a functioning movie house is a sign of a town’s vitality, Holwell also believes that a shuttered cinema represents decline.
The kind of independent cinemas in Magic Hours may represent the last stand for the business. Bland multiplexes may rise in or near these small towns, but nobody will open a new movie house in Strathmore, say if the Joyland Theatre shuts down. Fewer and fewer entrepreneurs consider the business viable. The cinema owners Holwell speaks to in Magic Hours, like the Kidwais, recognize this. “There’s just not going to be anyone else coming along that’s going to think this is worth giving a go,” says Holwell. Every owner feels they might be the last one. Sadly, once the projectors get switched off, nobody will switch them on again.
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