logo
One Fix for Ailing Movie Theaters? Becoming Nonprofits.

One Fix for Ailing Movie Theaters? Becoming Nonprofits.

New York Times17-02-2025

Nicki Wilson was shocked when her local newspaper reported in March 2023 that the Triplex Theater, an independent four-screen movie house in Great Barrington, Mass., was shutting down after almost three decades in business.
The Triplex, the only theater in town, was a much-loved fixture, attracting moviegoers from all around the Berkshires, even on winter nights when not much else was open, Ms. Wilson said.
'I couldn't imagine living in a town without a movie theater,' she said.
Ms. Wilson wasn't the only one who felt this way, and after a communitywide campaign the Triplex reopened in November 2023 in a much different form. No longer is it dependent on ticket and popcorn sales. The Triplex has become a nonprofit organization relying on donations, grants and plenty of volunteer labor. And instead of leaning on the next Hollywood blockbuster, the Triplex focuses on what the community wants to see.
'In an independent theater, you can show what you want,' said Gail Lansky, vice president of the Triplex's board. 'You can show retrospectives. You can show foreign films. You can do film festivals. Free Saturdays for kids'
Certainly not all nonprofit theaters are doing well, but the model has worked, at least so far, in places like the Berkshires, where a devoted and well-heeled clientele is willing and able to support the arts. Two nearby nonprofit movie theaters in New York, the Moviehouse in Millerton and the Crandell Theater in Chatham, have attracted sizable fan bases. Across the country, more than 250 movie theaters are nonprofits, said Bryan Braunlich, executive director of the Cinema Foundation, a movie-industry group that provides research for cinemas.
'We are definitely seeing a trend of communities rallying around their local theaters,' he said.
And movie theaters have needed saving. Since 2019, the number of screens operating in the United States has declined 12 percent, to 36,369 as of 2023, said David Hancock, chief analyst in media and entertainment at the research firm Omdia. The popularity of at-home streaming over the past decade was a factor. Before the pandemic, audience numbers were already waning, but Covid nearly dealt the industry a death blow, as consumers got used to staying home and became pickier about what movies they went to a theater to see.
'People certainly came back, but much more slowly,' said the Triplex's former owner, Richard Stanley. 'Ultimately, I saw the handwriting on the wall and decided I had to close.'
When a theater shuts down in town, it's not just a problem for film buffs. Because of their unique architecture, with sloped floors and few windows, they are hard to convert to other purposes and often leave prominent spaces empty.
Becoming a nonprofit allows theaters to draw on different revenue sources, like film festivals, and the hope is that a theater catering to the people of a town will build a loyal and supportive base.
This doesn't happen overnight. That was the case with the Belcourt Theater in Nashville. A community group had raised millions of dollars to operate and renovate the 1925 movie palace, which briefly served as the main stage of the Grand Ole Opry.
'All of us who work in the theater remember the days when we'd show 'Badlands' to four people, and now we show 'Badlands' to 150 to 200 people,' said the Belcourt's executive director, Stephanie Silverman, referring to the director Terrence Malick's debut feature from 1973.
Those who rallied around the Triplex are hoping for the same. When the theater opened in 1995 on the site of a burned-down lumberyard, nearby shopping centers had sucked the life out of Main Street and Great Barrington was struggling economically, said Mr. Stanley, Triplex's former owner.
Main Street is a very different place today, largely because of an influx of tourists and weekenders, and the Triplex 'was a very pivotal, really core thing that brought people to town,' said Betsy Andrus, executive director of the Southern Berkshire Chamber of Commerce.
By 2023, two other multiplexes in the Berkshires, in Lanesborough and North Adams, had already shut down. But Ms. Wilson believed there was hope for the Triplex. She called Mr. Stanley to ask if there was some way to reopen the theater.
'I asked what we could do, and he said, 'Well, pay me $1 million and you can buy the theater,'' she said.
Ms. Wilson didn't have $1 million to spare, but she did have plenty of friends. In April 2023, she invited her neighbors to her living room to discuss saving the theater. The group, which called itself Save the Triplex, created a GoFundMe page and a website to raise money. The response was overwhelming, said Hannah Wilken, who had spent many weekends at the Triplex with her friends as a teenager and was involved with the fund-raising.
Even people who hadn't been to the theater since before Covid felt a visceral connection to the place. 'We just started getting inundated with people saying: 'I want to help. I want to donate. Sign me up,'' Ms. Wilken said.
The actress Karen Allen, who owns a fiber-arts store in town, turned over memorabilia from 'Raiders of the Lost Ark,' which she starred in, for an auction. A major boost came when the photographer Gregory Crewdson donated $225,000, after selling copies of a signed limited edition of his work.
Within a few months, the group had raised $246,000 — enough to pay the first year's mortgage. Mr. Stanley liked the idea of keeping the Triplex alive as a nonprofit run by the town's residents and gave Ms. Wilson's group a five-year mortgage to buy the theater.
The campaign has benefited from the large and devoted Berkshires arts community, which regularly draws celebrities to town. Bill Murray showed up at the Triplex to discuss 'The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou,' the Wes Anderson film in which Mr. Murray played the title character, and Joan Baez was there for a showing of a documentary on her life. Arlo Guthrie discussed the 1969 movie 'Alice's Restaurant,' which had been filmed nearby. Not all the events have made money, but enough have done well to keep the Triplex going.
Movie theaters remain a dicey business, and for the Triplex to survive long term it will need a lot more money. The four screening rooms need major renovations. And although an active board oversees the theater's operations, it had just two paid employees until this month. (A third manager starts later this month, and the theater also pays the people who sell tickets and popcorn.) Ms. Wilson, the board's president, hopes to hire more people, but for now the theater still depends largely on volunteers.
'The challenges are real,' said Ms. Lansky, the board's vice president. 'Everybody knows that an independent theater cannot rely on tickets and concessions alone.'
Nonprofit theaters also tend to be a low priority for film distributors, Mr. Hancock of Omdia said. That means they can't always show the latest Hollywood blockbuster and must find other ways to keep up audience enthusiasm and a continuing commitment from the community members to donate money and volunteer their time, he said.
'The model can work, but only if the cinema is valued by the local community,' Mr. Hancock added.
Still, those behind the Triplex's revival believe an audience is out there. Sitting at home and watching movies on Netflix just isn't the same thing, said Ben Elliott, a manager at the theater and one of its few paid staff members.
Mr. Elliott grew up in Great Barrington and regularly visited the Triplex as a child. One of the things he missed during Covid was the sound of conversations in the lobby after a movie ended.
'Being together in a physical space is something that's becoming rarer and rarer, and holding on to that, I think, is important for communities across the country,' he said. 'It's also, for us, the most viable way to keep a theater open.'

Orange background

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Comments

No comments yet...

Related Articles

Movie Review: Rebel Wilson's 'Bride Hard' is a wedding movie that's easy to break up with
Movie Review: Rebel Wilson's 'Bride Hard' is a wedding movie that's easy to break up with

San Francisco Chronicle​

timean hour ago

  • San Francisco Chronicle​

Movie Review: Rebel Wilson's 'Bride Hard' is a wedding movie that's easy to break up with

Take your average wedding flick, shotgun a hostage situation into it and add some anarchic energy from Rebel Wilson and you get 'Bride Hard,' which is a movie, for better or for worse. In this case, much, much worse. 'Bride Hard' — which combines thrusting male strippers dressed as Vikings as well as deadly automatic weapon fire — isn't funny or thrilling. It has the kind of lazy pacing you'd usually find on the Hallmark Channel and a level of acting not much better than porn. Director Simon West, whose action movie credits include 'Con Air' and 'Lara Croft: Tomb Raider,' seems to be making a parody until he's not. The whole thing stinks of an '80s low-budget movie that you might find, back in the day, rummaging through a discount bin at Blockbuster. Wilson stars as Sam, a secret government 'Mission Impossible'-type agent who is a loose cannon, lethal with an elbow and as creative as MacGyver, but poor at managing her personal life. 'I will give you all of your flowers on the job, but in your real life, you're kind of dumb,' says her agent friend, played by Sherry Cola, who like everyone here, has been shorn of saying anything amusing. Even the blooper reel at the end of the movie is underwhelming. We start when Sam is reunited with her childhood best friend, bride-to-be Betsy — Wilson's 'Pitch Perfect' co-star Anna Camp — for a bachelorette party in Paris, which goes disastrously bad since Sam is also hunting for a bioweapon at the time. The action then shifts to a mansion on a private island in Savannah, Georgia, the site of a lavish wedding and lots of daytime drinking. That is, until heavily armed goons arrive to steal a pallet of gold bars. (Gold bars, like it's a Looney Tunes cartoon.) It's up to Sam to save the day and prove she's a good friend. Screenwriters Cece Pleasants and Shaina Steinberg seem to be mocking spy thrillers and wedding movies alike until they also kind of stop. There's lots of real blood, fiery explosions, impalings and electrocutions, along with irritable bowel syndrome jokes and plenty of kicks to the groin. Sample dialogue: 'Oh, Sam, you're alone,' the mother of the bride says as she approaches Sam. 'Well, no. I have my emotional support boobs,' Sam responds. There's also needless scene-explaining, like one bad guy yelling, 'She's using the chocolate fountains as cover!' Yeah, we see that. Have the screenwriters been reading the room? Not clear. 'If anybody ever mentions that I'm a secret agent, we will rendition you to one of our many unnamed bases,' warns Sam, as her spy colleague does a throat-slitting gesture. Rendition jokes are really so funny this summer. To be fair, there are some intriguing wedding-themed assaults, like the use of hairspray in the eyes, curling iron burns and a bad guy's chest punctured on an hors d'oeuvres platter. Sam likes to wield champagne bottles as clubs. One of the most cringe moments is when a stressed-out pregnant bridesmaid requests another sing the nasty, freaky 'My Neck, My Back (Lick It)' to her unborn baby, which triggers a sing-a-long with all the captives, mostly white, rich and middle aged. But even here it's neutered: The moviemakers go with the radio edit. The movie co-stars Stephen Dorff as the main bad guy, Justin Hartley as eye candy with a secret, Anna Chlumsky as a high-strung maid of honor and Da'Vine Joy Randolph as an edgy, sassy bridesmaid. They all need to break up with their agents. (So does whoever did the stunts — the body doubles are embarrassing.) 'Bride Hard' hits an insane low in a battle sequence in which the bridesmaids — all in fluffy red gowns — use Revolutionary-era cannons to take on trained mercenaries in tactical gear with rocket-propelled grenades. That, of course, leads to plenty of jokes about 'ramming it in.' If you do decide to pony up real cash to see this historic misfire in the movie theaters instead of waiting until you can hate-watch it for free on a streaming service, we have a word of advice: Bring your emotional support boobs. 'Bride Hard,' a Magenta Light Studios release in theaters Friday, is rated R for 'sexual references and some violence.' Running time: 105 minutes. Zero stars out of four.

The Alibi was the desert's hottest music venue. Who killed it?
The Alibi was the desert's hottest music venue. Who killed it?

Los Angeles Times

time3 hours ago

  • Los Angeles Times

The Alibi was the desert's hottest music venue. Who killed it?

Back in the worst pandemic days of 2020, Elizabeth Garo and Melanie Tusquellas were terrified they would lose their nightclub. The co-owners of the Alibi — an independent music venue with space for up to 300 people in downtown Palm Springs — opened in late 2019, just before COVID-19 shut down the live music scene. Garo was a former booker for the Regent, Echo and Echoplex in L.A. (She also opened Stories Books in Echo Park.) Tusquellas was a hospitality veteran behind Los Feliz's El Chavo and Silver Lake's historic Edendale restaurant. The two said they had invested hundreds of thousands into renovating and opening the Alibi. 'It's difficult to run a small independent venue any time, and during COVID it was particularly hard,' Garo recalled in an interview. 'A lot of them didn't make it.' Garo heard that Marc Geiger, then a WME music executive she had known and worked with for decades, and former WME board member John Fogelman had founded Save Live, a company investing in independent venues to help them survive the pandemic. When Save Live offered to buy 51% of the Alibi and let the co-founders continue to run it, the deal 'felt like such a relief,' Garo said. 'It felt like a lifeline, like, 'Hey, we're gonna make it.'' Instead, Garo and Tusquellas claim in a 2023 lawsuit and an interview with The Times that the partnership ruined them. Their lawsuit, which seeks compensatory damages, alleges that Geiger and Fogelman negotiated the deal in bad faith, forcing them out of the company's operations soon after the purchase. After briefly reopening in 2022, the club permanently closed later that year. A trial is set for August. Attorneys for Save Live, which has since rebranded as Gate 52, declined to comment when reached by email. In a cross-complaint to the suit, Geiger and Fogelman say Save Live 'bent over backwards to try to resolve the parties' differences' and call Garo and Tusquellas' claims 'salacious — and utterly false — allegations of misogyny and bad faith.' The suit raises questions about the future of local indie music venues like the Alibi and about Save Live's intentions. Does the firm rescue troubled venues or capitalize on their financial vulnerability? Gate 52 now owns 13 music venues across the country, including Electric City in Buffalo, N.Y., the Eagles Ballroom in Milwaukee and the Criterion in Oklahoma City. In California, the firm owns the Fremont Theater in San Luis Obispo and the Golden State Theatre in Monterey, and collaborates with dozens more 'network venues' across the country. The firm is a far cry from giants like Live Nation or AEG. But as a well-capitalized operation that has acquired majority stakes in struggling small venues, it has become a significant player in secondary markets. The two-story, Spanish colonial-style building that would become the Alibi first opened as a switchboard hub for the GE Telephone Co. in the 1920s. Later, it became Georgie's Alibi Azul, a popular gay bar and restaurant. In 2018, Garo and Tusquellas, both wisecracking Gen X veterans of L.A. nightlife, were looking for 'a swan song' for their careers, as Tusquellas described it. Garo, one of the most influential talent bookers in L.A. for decades, had been laid off from Live Nation after the mega-promoter bought local promoter Spaceland Presents. After touring the Alibi, Garo and Tusquellas saw potential for a venue like the ones they'd built in L.A., a place to book local and global artists in a creatively adapted old building. 'We were surprised by how chic and international Palm Springs was becoming,' Tusquellas added. 'Growing up in L.A., when we went to Palm Springs as kids, it was like God's waiting room. But we were quite surprised by this scene with all these local musicians but no venues to play at.' Alibi soft-launched with packed Pride events in fall 2019 (to avoid the summer heat), and formally opened in October. With its glazed-tile outdoor bar and emerald-hued mood lighting, the venue was a chic standout in desert nightlife. 'We had everything from 'Dynasty' theme parties to Modernism Week events,' Tusquellas said. 'We had a goth night. There had never been a place to go for them in Palm Springs and they came out of the woodwork.' Local musicians hoped the venue would be transformative for their scene. 'Alibi was the first place where we got a taste of the real deal,' said Spencer Stange of the band Host Family, which booked a monthly night of experimental music at Alibi. 'It was the only venue I knew there that was legitimate and professional. Good bands played there and you could do a real sound check. They were so hospitable, it felt like a home base.' Louise Minnick, a local promoter with Lesbo Expo, said Alibi was an important venue for queer women in the desert. 'Liz and Melanie went out of their way to make our events special,' Minnick said. 'They offered their patio for women to have first access to watch Pride, which meant a lot to me.' Five months later, the pandemic annihilated those plans. Garo and Tusquellas said their company, 369 Palm Inc., was too new to access the federal patchwork of Paycheck Protection Program loans. They eventually got a grant from the National Independent Venue Assn., but it was for only $20,000. According to a slide deck cited in Save Live's cross-complaint, the venue had $250,000 in outstanding bills from the shutdown. 'We used all our savings to pay the rent,' Tusquellas added. 'We're entrepreneurs who are not funded by big people, so we had to pay the $15,000 a month rent ourselves for a year and a half. It was really hard.' Meanwhile, Save Live launched in 2020 with $135 million raised from venture capital firms and a clear mission: to buy majority stakes in small clubs. 'Save Live's business model was to invest in local, independent, 'mom and pop' live music venues, providing critically needed financial relief and funds to renovate dated facilities to bring them back stronger than ever before,' the company says in its cross-complaint. Save Live's founders were well-known in L.A. entertainment. Geiger co-founded the Lollapalooza festival and led WME's music division from 2003 until 2020. Fogelman was the former head of motion pictures at William Morris Agency and a founding board member when it merged with Endeavor to become WME. The Alibi was one of Save Live's first venue deals. 'Being able to partner with Save Live is a dream come true,' Garo said in a 2021 announcement. The deal let the two owners 'stay true to our roots knowing we have their full support. … It doesn't hurt that we've known some of the people at Save Live for years — we all came up through the business together.' 'I didn't know Marc at all, but he was very charming,' Tusquellas said. 'He and Fogelman were titans of the industry. We felt that we were in very good hands. We knew what we were doing, and they knew that.' According to the suit and cross-complaint, Garo and Tusquellas' company, 369 Palm Inc. (with partner David Gold), agreed to sell 51% of their ownership of the Alibi's business to Save Live for $400,000. The Alibi's business would be co-owned under a new company, Alibi Venue Operations LLC. Garo and Tusquellas say in their suit that, under this agreement, the pair and Geiger 'would have decision-making authority over the day-to-day operations.' Garo and Tusquellas claim in their suit that 369 Palm 'retained 100% ownership of [the Alibi's] ABC liquor license' and would continue to manage the venue's bar. Save Live agreed to provide $565,000 for renovations and expenses, according to Save Live's cross-complaint. Garo and Tusquellas' suit claims that Save Live had 'hatched a plan to exploit the weakness in the independent live music industry to try, by means of deception and then intimidation, to acquire The Alibi and its business without paying a fair price.' Scott Timberlake, the Alibi building's landlord, said he had a friendly relationship with Garo and Tusquellas. But once Save Live got involved, he said, 'I was really surprised by Save Live's ego and entitlement. When I asked to see their financial statements before taking over the lease, they lectured me about 'Don't you know who we are?'' Garo and Tusquellas say in their suit that, when the venue reopened on April 1, 2022, 'SL Alibi acted as if it were the sole owner.' They claim in their suit that Geiger and Fogelman contracted with an outside ticketing company, Tixr, without Garo's consent, and that Save Live didn't sufficiently fund day-to-day operations. Garo and Tusquellas claim in their suit that Save Live switched to its own accountant for bookkeeping and backed out of a plan to hire a general manager. In its cross-complaint, Save Live says that 'contrary to the claims in their lawsuit, Save Live did not try to take over the Venue.' Save Live says 'Tusquellas and Garo had gone significantly over the pre-opening budget, resulting in … an operating budget shortfall.' According to Save Live's cross-complaint, private investigators discovered 'a separate, undisclosed cash register used only for cash transactions … there was no record, whatsoever, of any such sales.' The cross-complaint alleges that Tusquellas 'embezzled most of (if not all) of the cash sale proceeds.' Tusquellas denied the embezzlement claims, saying all sales, including cash, were accounted for and reported as income. Save Live says in its cross-complaint that both parties 'always understood and intended for 369 to transfer' the venue's valuable liquor license, and called Garo and Tusquellas' refusal to do so 'a ruse to get Save Live's money.' Garo and Tusquellas said they never sold, or intended to sell, the venue's liquor license. 'That may have been part of Save Live's secret plan,' said 369 Palm's lawyer, David Sergenian. 'But that was never agreed to.' On July 13, 2022, Garo and Tusquellas' lawsuit says 'Geiger and Fogelman called a meeting of the Board … as a pretense to ambush Tusquellas and Garo with false accusations. Geiger and Fogelman…falsely accus[ed] Tusquellas of embezzling funds from the company to enrich herself.' 'Fogelman aggressively threw a chair to the ground, as he raged,' the suit says. 'Tusquellas and Garo were appalled by Fogelman's shocking behavior and scared for their future, as he was threatening to ruin the business by shutting down The Alibi.' Garo and Tusquellas' suit claims Geiger and Fogelman ordered the venue shut down and that Garo and Tusquellas be removed from operations with their salaries cut off. The bar staff would be fired and 369 Palm's concessionaire agreement canceled, according to the suit. The Alibi closed on July 25, 2022. It never reopened. The situation at the Alibi echoes the tumult surrounding the ownership of the beloved Pioneertown venue Pappy & Harriet's. Starting in 2021, Knitting Factory Chief Executive Morgan Margolis and partners Stephen Hendel and John Chapman battled the venue's co-partners, Joseph Moresco and Lisa Elin, about who controlled the operations at the rustic venue, where acts as big as Paul McCartney and Robert Plant have played in addition to hardscrabble desert locals. Margolis prevailed in late 2024. Meanwhile, the new Acrisure Arena, built by mega-manager Irving Azoff and former AEG President Tim Leiweke, attracts A-list pop, rock and Latin acts to Palm Springs. The nearby Yaamava' resort has spent millions on top talent. 'It's great to have an influx of money and big artists at venues like Acrisure Arena that helps the Valley feel bigger. But losing small venues is detrimental and cuts away at the uniqueness of the experiences people have here,' said Kristen Dolan, executive director of the California Desert Arts Council, a nonprofit group advocating for cultural development in the Coachella Valley. 'Places like Alibi have a bigger impact than people think. The workforce here is largely in hospitality, and clubs like the Alibi are important places to start out,' Dolan said. 'People were really upset when the Alibi closed, and it was heartbreaking for artists cultivating their community. The economy here is unstable right now and I hope we don't lose more small venues like it.' The post-pandemic future for such independent live venues is unsettled. Nonprofits like NIVA were effective advocates for legislation (like the $16.25 billion Shuttered Venue Operators Grant, a federal program that gave money to struggling venues) and fundraising, and concert attendance boomed once venues reopened. But inflation, reduced tourism and a volatile economy threaten to keep fans home. 'What word describes our situation right now? I would offer that one word is 'unknown,' NIVA's executive director Stephen Parker said at the group's 2024 conference. 'Forty years ago, independent stages were the norm, now multinational, publicly traded conglomerates are. Everyone in this room knows that competition is a misnomer and the increasing lack of it is, perhaps, our greatest threat.' Meanwhile, Garo and Tusquellas have returned to L.A., picking up the pieces at an unexpectedly late phase of their careers. Garo will book shows at a new independent Yucca Valley venue, Mojave Gold. Building owner Timberlake said that after months of fighting with Save Live over the venue's debts, he accepted a settlement, and a new restaurant tenant has moved into the Alibi. 'I didn't have the financial capability of fighting someone like Save Live,' he said. 'It was just so unnecessarily negative.' No matter how the August trial ends, Garo and Tusquellas are facing the same headwinds as the rest of the live industry. Only now, they are truly on their own. 'I have lots of ideas,' Garo said. 'But that's all kind of locked up until we get this resolved. I don't want this to be my final chapter.'

Elon Musk's trans daughter puts on drag performance in skin-tight bodysuit at LA anti-ICE fundraiser
Elon Musk's trans daughter puts on drag performance in skin-tight bodysuit at LA anti-ICE fundraiser

New York Post

time4 hours ago

  • New York Post

Elon Musk's trans daughter puts on drag performance in skin-tight bodysuit at LA anti-ICE fundraiser

Elon Musk's trans daughter made her drag debut in a skin-tight bodysuit at an anti-ICE fundraiser in Los Angeles over the weekend. Vivian Wilson, 21, put on a show Friday night at The Bellwether in downtown LA, just blocks away from the scene of riots and unrest during recent demonstrations, Out Magazine reported. 3 Elon Musks's trans daughter, Vivian Jenna Wilson, performed at an anti-ICE drag show in Los Angeles over the weekend. Snorlax / MEGA 3 Proceeds from the performance Musk's daughter participated in went to an immigration legal defense fund for people affected by recent ICE raids. REUTERS Wilson's drag debut performance was part of 'SAVE HER! — an Environmental Drag Show,' an event put on by drag activist Pattie Gonia. All the proceeds from the show went to an immigration legal defense fund for anyone impacted by recent ICE raids, according to the organizers. 3 The 21-year-old called the show a 'life-changing experience.' Snorlax / MEGA Wilson said that she was 'fulfilling forever dreams' by making her debut. 'Thank you so much to everyone for a life-changing experience while helping raise money for those in need,' she wrote in an Instagram post on Sunday along with a series of pictures from the show.

DOWNLOAD THE APP

Get Started Now: Download the App

Ready to dive into the world of global news and events? Download our app today from your preferred app store and start exploring.
app-storeplay-store