The Projector's closure and Singapore's struggle to embrace unconventional dreams

CNA

6 hours ago

How long was The Projector living on borrowed time? It's hard to be certain.
What's clearer is that the local independent cinema, which announced its sudden exit from the market on Tuesday (Aug 19), was always more than a screen for arthouse films. Its distinct offerings made it a defiant presence in the sea of sameness that is Singapore's cinema landscape.
It also kept its edge by doubling up as an events venue, holding themed parties, intimate concerts and dialogues with filmmakers.
It had character and soul, and it was the direct opposite of what many Singaporeans would label as 'cookie-cutter'. And for 11 years, it worked.
But I suspect that very difference also ultimately sealed its fate.
The Projector's shock announcement on Tuesday marked a complete reversal from its plans less than a month ago to resume screenings at its Golden Mile Tower outlet. It said it would enter "voluntary liquidation", citing rising costs, changing audience habits and other pressures.
And it's not just smaller players like The Projector struggling with high rents and the increasing competition from streaming services for audiences' time, attention and money.
Cathay Cineplexes, owned by listed entertainment firm mm2 Asia, currently owes millions in rent to mall landlords. Six of its cinemas closed over the span of around three years – with more closures possibly looming.
In a July bourse filing, mm2 Asia said it was mulling several options, including winding up its cinema business entirely to address its 'ongoing financial challenges'. As of August this year, only four Cathay Cineplexes cinemas remain in operation.
On one hand, it's tempting to see this solely as evidence of a broader, arguably irreversible, shift in Singaporeans' attitudes towards cinemagoing. Even the biggest players are no longer immune.
Yet the way I see it, the end of The Projector is a loss for Singapore as a whole. Its closure doesn't just mean decreased access to independent films in theatres, nor is it simply the disappearance of a venue that made the city a little less dull.
It feels instead like a reminder of how difficult it still is to succeed through unconventional paths in Singapore. And perhaps it's time we recognised that in such a reality – which extends far beyond cinema – we are all worse off.
A "REBEL CINEMA" THAT TOOK RISKS
I still remember my surprise when The Projector opened its doors in 2014. I hadn't believed there would be a sustainable market for independent film showings in Singapore.
The movie buffs who would show up might have been loyal, but they were always in the minority. And when it comes to our lifestyle interests, in my view, Singaporeans have long leaned towards rather homogenous, mainstream tastes.
Take our shopping malls for example. Even as some places have rebranded malls as lifestyle destinations, the majority have stuck to an expected formula. Uniqlo: Check. NTUC FairPrice supermarket: Check. Kopitiam food court: Check.
Broadly speaking, it's understandable that offerings with mass appeal would be key to consistently high footfall, and by extension, long-term financial viability.
Likewise in cinemas, one would assume commercial blockbusters or movies that spark strong social sentiment after their Hollywood release would attract larger audiences in Singapore.
Even so, The Projector seemed to show a growing appetite for the independent arts and culture scene. I believed its mere presence would, in time, nurture a deeper appreciation for raw creativity – the kind inseparable from the boldness that drives risk-taking and boundary-pushing.
Its founder Karen Tan told CNA Lifestyle in 2022 that the cinema had always been motivated by 'the desire to do something different and always question the status quo'.
It was a 'rebel cinema', so to speak. The team wasn't afraid of the 'messiness of experimentation and collaboration', she'd said, which allowed it to 'do a lot more'.
'While we're not afraid to take big risks, it's always a calculated risk as well. So we enter a space with a plan to foster spontaneity and organic interaction and string a deliberately loose framework around it.
'For a business to do that, it requires a certain appetite for risk and trust that people will respond.'
While Singaporeans may have finally responded after 11 years, The Projector's death (and life) would be in vain if we failed to grasp its deeper message. A society that doesn't support alternative spaces, or that discourages deviation from the norm, is fundamentally incompatible with creativity.
And when creativity withers, so too does our ability to remain an innovative, competitive nation. You don't need to be a cinephile to realise the cost of that possible future.
CULTIVATING A SIMILAR SPIRIT OF RISK-TAKING
We lose far more than just a cinema with The Projector's closure. After all, our physical environment can both reflect and reinforce the culture we live in.
In this case, it may highlight our struggle to step away from safe decisions and pursue alternative dreams.
Despite the rhetoric around embracing failure, a culture built on the tried-and-true doesn't turn experimental overnight. Even our rebellions are measured. Aim high, but don't overstep. Follow your passions, but keep them on the side. Go niche, but never without a safety net.
Moreover, Singapore's emphasis on productivity feels increasingly at odds with the spirit of risk-taking it wants to cultivate to stay competitive in the age of artificial intelligence (AI).
Not every risk will pay off when we judge its success mainly by productive output. But experimentation like The Projector matters, because even failed attempts can give rise to learning, resilience and the conditions for future breakthroughs.
This willingness to try, despite the risk of failure, is the essence of creativity. Like a muscle, it grows stronger when we support what AI can never replicate: The act of being human.
In the many eulogies for The Projector so far, it's clear the cinema created a rare space for just that.
Cinemas function as a 'third place'. The sociological term refers to a social setting outside home ('first place') and work or school ('second place'), where people gather, interact and build meaning together.
Thriving third places are seen as hallmarks of a city's cultural maturity. They signal that society values creativity, leisure and diversity, not just economic growth.
The thing is, we tend to forget that building such spaces takes time and effort. This inconvenience runs counter to the Singaporean psyche that prizes efficiency and productivity, yet it is precisely what creates a deeper sense of belonging.
So in Singapore, independent spaces often exist on precarious ground from the get-go. Their survival (or lack thereof) then becomes symbolic of whether the city can sustain a richer, more varied urban life.
How long was The Projector living on borrowed time? In hindsight, the answer is clear: Since before it opened, if I'm being honest. Its very ethos of daring to dream was already in tension with Singapore's instinct to drift towards the mainstream.
And yet, I don't resonate with the jadedness that seems to follow after such spaces close. I don't see The Projector's closure as a cautionary tale against risk-taking.
If anything, its existence paved the way for fellow rebels. It gave us permission to wholeheartedly pursue the risks we truly believe in, if only so we remember everything it stood for.
In the cinema's announcement on Tuesday, Tan too acknowledged that the place might be closing, but it hopes its 'spirit will live on in the conversations, ideas and communities we've nurtured'.
'If Singapore wants to thrive, it must find a way for creative and cultural businesses to survive because culture is the cornerstone of identity and civil society,' she said.
The Projector proved that this reality is possible, despite the odds. Because while the outcome of risk-taking, status quo-breaking and boundary-pushing may not always endure, true rebels know the magic lies in the attempt. And we will all be better for it.