Embrace the value of an analog life, before it’s only a movie

Perhaps it’s fitting that the very last show at the Laguna South Coast Cinema was “The Man from U.N.C.L.E.”

The movie is set in the mid-1960s, an analog time that everyone embraced. Nowadays, analog closes theaters.

Theater owner Regency Theatres could not justify the cost of upgrading the old building to accommodate digital films, so Sunday night was the final showing. The same thing is happening to thousands of small theaters across the country.

“It’s hard,” said manager Bob Lively, who has been in the movie business for more than 30 years, 10 of those years in Laguna. “Lot of hugs and tears.”

Lively tried to put on a good face for the last showing, but you could tell he seemed a little shell-shocked. He said he’s going to retire, play a little golf and probably watch more movies at home.

But on Sunday, while still attending to movie house chores, he spent extra time talking to several regular moviegoers. Many had no idea the theater was closing. Others knew and came down for one last show.

About 30 people total witnessed the final film. Before the show, you could see signs that something was amiss.

The “Coming Soon” marquee outside did not display a new show; it was just oddly blank. And the candy selection in the display case was unusually thin. Most of the popular brands were gone.

The staff was discreetly packing everything up, just hoping for it to end soon. Most were young students, but a few have worked there for a couple of years.

Lively knows them all like family. He rattled off their names and said some are being placed at other theaters while others are starting back at school.

He used the school subject as a mental tangent, as if remembering the things he will miss most.

“I always encouraged them to stay in school,” he said. “‘Stay in school,’ I said.”

His voice trailed off and he got quiet.

“The movie is about to start,” he said suddenly, looking at his watch, as if by instinct. And in that moment, he was eager for the film to begin and perhaps distract him from the reality he faced.

So I went and sat in a well-worn, slightly lumpy red-velour chair. The seating is not fancy and hasn’t been for a while. Most seats squeak loudly, and the ones near the aisle lean back a little too far.

Precisely at 7:20 p.m., the lights dimmed and the screen flickered, but there were no previews. Viewers simply saw the start of the movie.

In a way, it was disorienting but then it became obvious and appropriate. Maybe all movies should start this way: on time with no help from anything else.

But the truth is, movies need help. Advertisers, economies of scale, digital efficiency — all of which the small, independent or very old theaters cannot provide.

According to the Motion Picture Assn. of America, more than 80% of the world’s 135,000 cinema screens have converted to digital at a cost of nearly $100,000 per screen. But many of the smaller, independent theaters have not. When the digital conversion process started in about 2012, some industry estimates predicted that 5,000 to 10,000 theaters would close, mostly in small towns.

So far the trend is holding true.

In the Laguna theater, you could almost see the analog technology at work. With its ‘60s Kodachrome veneer, the movie seemed to crackle like the visual version of a vinyl record. An undersaturated feel to the film gave it an approachable, imperfect authenticity.

In other words, we rarely see or remember real life with a hard, digital edge. Rather, it’s softer and more vulnerable.

And in this movie, it’s all about palpable feeling and attention to detail. There is a race car scene in Italy with Ferraris — analog Ferraris. The type of Ferraris that cost more nowadays than their sleek digital contemporaries.

Dials, knobs and manual mirrors, not touchscreens, LEDs and automatic controls.

In a similar way, we will one day cherish 35mm film. It will cost a fortune and we will act like it’s the only true way to watch a film.

We will pull out the projector and point it at a large sheet or blank wall in a cemetery or park, and we will spread out our blankets, pour our wine and feel good about supporting the heritage of film.

Meanwhile, the Laguna South Coast Theatre will be long gone, and the icon will be replaced by something that will never be an icon.

Interestingly, the last scene of “The Man from U.N.C.L.E.” has the movie stars standing around an outside table, celebrating the conclusion of their mission, which includes the burning of a “computer disk” that could have changed the world.

But the disk was not digital. It was analog.

So we were left wondering what might have been as the black ribbon burned.

DAVID HANSEN is a writer and Laguna Beach resident. He can be reached at [email protected].