Cinema—The New Cathedral of Hollyworld
How films are replacing religion in our cinematic age. “The mind is insatiable for meaning, drawn from, or projected, into the world of appearances, for unearthing hidden analogies, which connect the unknown with the familiar, and show the familiar in an unexpected light.”
—Arthur Koestler
Imagine yourself on a Sunday afternoon. You’ve just walked into a very tall building, been greeted with a smile by the same person who greeted you last week, and ushered into a dark room with seats all facing forward. There is music playing. You feel reverent. And then the previews start. You are about to worship at the new altar of technological culture, the movie theatre.
After one hundred years of tinkering, film has arrived as an alternate form of transcendence, replacing in interesting and strange ways the once venerated position held by the institutional church. Or, to put it another way, the medium of motion film has finally received its birthright: born right around the time Nietzsche declared that God was dead, film has now matured to the point that America is now accepting cinema as the culture’s chief myth maker.
Think about the odd similarities: Churches and movie theaters are both large buildings in public space, with signs out front indicating what is going on inside each week. As physical structures, they both create a sense of sacred space through the architectural elements of high ceilings, long aisles running the length of the main room, darkened rooms (with few if any windows), the use of dim lighting, sweeping wall curvatures, and the use of curtains to enhance the sacrality of the front space. Both offer similar row-style seating, and as an incentive to increase attendance, many churches and cinemas are now offering “stadium-style” seats.
There are an increasing number of churches (in Washington, D.C, Virginia Beach, VA, and San Diego, CA to start with) that actually rent a movie theater to host services, a nice arrangement for both institutions since religion is now American culture’s only legitimate excuse for being awake at all on Sunday morning. Entering a space of this size and design, you find yourself speaking in hushed tones: you feel small, a feeling that encourages acquiescence to any messages—fact or fiction—received therein. There is, in both cases, the feeling that something larger is going on, and that only through submission can you be a part of it. Albert Speer, Hitler’s Armaments Minister and chief architect, understood this feeling implicitly when he said that architecture could be a form of propaganda.
Once inside either church or cinema, the ritual begins, offering the attendee an experience designed to stimulate all the senses with signature sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and touches. As Aldous Huxley saw it, attending church was the most exciting part of medieval man’s weekly life, because only there could he escape his otherwise brown and gray world of dun and dung. The medieval church’s incense, rose windows, gold altarpieces, and priestly adornments of silk and rubies were one of the earliest forms of multimedia experience. These tactile symbols heightened the worshipper’s sense of the presence and magnificence of an otherwise invisible God.
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