Ten states. 10,825 miles. 123 theaters. All filmed by Rustin Thompson for The Last Picture Shows, a cinematic portrait of the last main-street cinemas still standing in the small towns of the American west.
The Last Picture Shows opens Aug. 21 at Laemmle’s Royal. Q&As with director Rustin Thompson: Fri., Aug. 21 after the 7:20 p.m. show, moderated by film professor and author Ross Melnick; Sat., Aug. 22 after the 7:20 p.m. show, moderated by filmmaker April Wright; and Sun., Aug. 23 after the 3 p.m. show moderated by author John Trafton.
Thompson, who’s a journalist, critic, and radio host in addition to being a filmmaker, is a near one-man show, serving as his own cinematographer and sound man in addition to writing and directing. It feels like a video essay, with a musical rhythm, that’s been punctuated by more conversational interviews with the primary operators of many of the theaters he comes across.
There’s a haunting beauty to a colorful movie theater after dark as the only light source on a small-town street. There’s an even more tragic beauty to one that’s been permanently closed, standing as an echo of a more community-minded past. In the west, they tend to be the tallest thing around, as outstretched, flat plains or snow-capped peaks seem to stretch out forever into the distance. With so few people in Thompson’s frame, the buzzphrase du jour comes to mind: liminal spaces. Everything we see is some form of lost – either lost to a past that still shows enough remnants to stick in the mind, or lost to the backroads of America, unseen by those who have easier access to a mall multiplex or urban IMAX screen.
This year’s cinematic successes, from the classical adaptation of The Odyssey to the youth-skewing horror of Obsession and art-house surprise of Tuner, have proved audiences still want to go to the movies. But it’s been a rough economic road for the places that show them. Mandatory minimum runs enforced by studios can hamstring a theater, once everyone in town who wants to see a particular film has already attended. Then the relatively low profit margins of the situation left businesses with low reserves when COVID lockdowns hit. Those who hang in there do it because they love it, and urge the studios to adjust and ensure that young people still value the cinematic experience.
Thompson’s cinematography is some of the year’s absolute best, imbued with a haunting, ghost-town quality and scored to melancholy country music that suggests a vanishing way of life which is quintessentially American. Yet it’s not all tears for times gone by – most of the folks running these places are stubborn, versatile, and love what they do. Many have reconsidered the space as more than just a place for movies – they also run private parties, stage shows, and the kinds of onscreen theater and one-night only events that programs like Fathom Events make possible.
Many of these regular folks don’t know it, but they’re reflective of the larger entertainment industry as a whole. With fewer guarantees and an end to the star system, many actors and filmmakers take on second jobs these days, just as theater operators are doing. Yet the human connection every aspect of the industry provides matters all the more; the movie makes a strong case that we need these communal movie experiences, even if they’ll never make a person wealthy. There’s just enough film history offered up to give all involved some hope that the business has always been, and continues to be, cyclical.
Laemmle Theatres knows a fair bit about adaptation and the struggle, too. We salute this salute to our siblings-in-exhibition.
“The narratives are compelling, but the movie’s lyrical and elegiac tone makes it truly resonant.” – Glenn Kenny, The New York Times.
“Rustin Thompson’s The Last Picture Shows, then, is at once a cautionary tale and a love letter to an era before it becomes bygone.” – Donald Liebenson, RogerEbert.com.
