Going to the movies just isn’t the same as it used to be.
During the zenith of Hollywood culture at the end of the 20th century, before the film industry was rocked by the one-two punch of streaming services and ubiquitous small screens, names like Brad Pitt, Julia Roberts and Meryl Streep graced the marquee like those of demigods. The movie theatre was a place to worship, complete with its own rituals—consuming over-buttered popcorn, getting in cheap on Tuesdays, and sneaking past the distracted usher into a double feature.
Somewhere around the turn of the century, things began to shift. Movies were getting bigger, and so were multiplexes. Juggernauts like Titanic, The Sixth Sense and The Matrix were rewriting the rules of cinema, seemingly ushering in an era of creative innovation, while getting executives punch-drunk on profits. Instead of waiting for months to earn back their investment, now they could make back their money over a weekend.
By the time the first Spider-Man released in 2002, the industry was well on its way to kicking off nearly two decades of relentless Marvel movies. It was the age of remakes and reboots and sequels. Studios weren’t interested in risks like Glengarry Glen Ross, Rain Man or Fried Green Tomatoes—instead they were making Iron Man, Michael Bay blockbusters and an interminable number of John Wick flicks.
During this time, community movie theatres began to shutter across B.C., faced with tricky economic realities and dwindling audiences. Earlier this year, the Network of Independent Canadian Exhibitors announced theatres are in crisis, with a majority of its independent theatres operating at a loss. In Whistler, the village’s only theatre closed at the beginning of 2023, leaving locals without an option for Hollywood new releases.
This is all part of a global trend, but it demands a local solution. It was undoubtedly tragic to lose the Village 8 Cinemas, which was beloved and operated for decades, but now local moviegoers and filmmakers are envisioning innovative new ways to keep movie culture alive and thriving. The question is: what will the future of movies look like in Whistler, now that it’s gone?
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If you were wondering when the first movie was screened in Whistler, it would depend on who you ask. Many would answer it was when the Rainbow Theatre opened in 1986, but in actual fact it was more than three decades earlier.
That was when the Alta Lake Community Club raised money to buy a projector, using a gas-powered generator and a sheet to display films for those gathered way back in 1954. According to the Whistler Museum, movie nights became the social event of the week for residents, with each screening followed by a dance. In many ways, it was a prototype for the contemporary moviegoing experience: there were soft drinks, everyone was scarfing popcorn, and dogs were even allowed as long as they behaved—though they did have a tendency to howl at the screen.
The town’s children were known to shun the seats altogether, cuddling in a heap at the foot of the front row.
These community screenings continued until the Village was constructed in the 1980s, bringing with it the single-screen Rainbow Theatre. After a few hiccups and false starts—including an attempt to create a non-profit that would bring movies to the theatre—it held its grand opening in November of 1986 with its first movie: Crocodile Dundee.
For filmmaker and critic Feet Banks, who first moved to Whistler at 12 years old from northern B.C. in 1988, it was an oasis of inspiration that impacted his trajectory into the world of movies.
“I remember seeing A Fish Called Wanda with my dad. He loved those screwball comedies. The Rainbow Theatre was a great thing to do when you were a teenager, with the video game arcade right there, so whenever a movie came to town, you would go,” he tells Pique.
“There were no video rentals, no phones or anything like that, so every weekend that’s where we were.”
The tricky economics of screening blockbusters in a small town was apparent to Banks, even as a teenager. When Jurassic Park came to town, it ran for weeks without any other options because of the agreements made with the distributor.
“I remember thinking, ‘when is Hook going to leave? I’ve seen it twice now and I want something new.’”
The Rainbow Theatre would eventually make way for the Village 8 across town, which opened in an underground venue at the end of 2002. From that point on the Rainbow went through a series of renovations and improvements, but would no longer show commercial movies after 2006. Instead, it was repurposed for conferences and film festivals.
“I think it’s worth asking someone at the conference centre why the Rainbow lays fallow, but I suspect it is that they want to minimize wear and tear so they can sell it as a cutting-edge screening room to conferences and events,” says Banks.
“Showing movies to locals doesn’t drive room nights, so I suspect it’s not a huge priority.”
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It was a magical time for movies, but not for movie theatres.
When the Village 8 Cinemas opened in 2002, it boasted a lineup of crowd-pleasers such as Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, Catch Me If You Can and Two Weeks Notice. Whistler residents were overjoyed to have a multi-screen complex in town, and they initially showed up in droves. It was around this time Banks began a local movie column in Pique that would run from 2003 to 2020, catching many of the flicks he was writing about at Village 8.
“That was a great run. The theatre opened around the same time as Netflix started, though. It was a mail-in thing with DVDs at that point and nobody realized what a big deal it was. But then it really started to affect things,” he says.
“People could ask, ‘why go to the theatre when you can sit at home, eat your own popcorn, smoke your own weed?’”
According to Banks, the screening problem from the Rainbow persisted at the new venue. Even though they had eight screens, there were only three quality options at any time due to distributor agreements that forced theatres to take on undesirable shows in order to win the right to carry big titles.
Then, of course, there was the fact that locals would rather hit the slopes than the screens.
“Whistler is an outdoor town, so if it’s a pow day then you’re not going to the movies. During the summer people stay in the park until 10 p.m. I think there’s a broader mix of industry trends and Whistler reality at work here, since this is one of the most expensive places to live,” he says.
“As a father I loved going up to Whistler and watching a movie with my son. I remember going to the Rainbow with my parents and then taking my son to Village 8 and there’s a full-circle happiness that comes from that. So that’s the biggest loss.”
He believes theatres help teenagers stay out of trouble, too.
“Young kids and teenagers, you’re not out getting into trouble stealing golf carts or setting shit on fire—you’re at the movies! Obviously the world’s going down the shitter because of social media in a number of directions, and when I’m at home I’ll be messing on my phone while the TV is on, but in a theatre people aren’t doing that. They’re locked into that shared experience.”
Without a community effort and change in priorities, it may be a long time before there’s a functioning movie theatre in Whistler again. But Banks has heard rumblings from behind the scenes as community members strategize how to bring movies back up the Sea to Sky.
“When I was a kid, somebody made it work. Now the community is not focused so much on providing for the community as bringing people in from outside,” he says. “I think that’s tragic.”
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If there’s anyone with their finger on the pulse of movie industry trends, it’s the Whistler Film Festival’s (WFF) executive director Angela Heck. Having been involved in every festival for nearly 25 years, and having witnessed the closure of both the Rainbow and Village 8 theatres, she knows the pressures currently plaguing the industry.
But she still feels there’s reason for hope.
“The situation is definitely an evolving one,” she says. “We love movies for that communal experience, to be able to share laughter or tears or stale popcorn, but the landscape and the economics are changing and the way people are accessing content is changing. There’s no right way or wrong way to access content, but it’s certainly having an impact.”
The WFF struggled through the pandemic, but ultimately bounced back with one of its most successful offerings in 2023. The films played were ultimately nominated for 38 Academy Awards. And though this is only a once-a-year event, Heck says the community is still finding ways to share great movies, including outdoor screenings in the summer.
“It’s sad at this point that there isn’t a weekly option, and we’re looking at ways we might be able to do that in the future,” she says.
Heck says there is a passionate film-lover community in Whistler, one that appreciates getting dressed up in costumes and turning the screening into an event. This was first demonstrated for her when she attended the premiere of Ski Bums in 2002, a documentary about mountain culture directed by John Zaritzky.
“I was awestruck by the amount of community spirit,” she says. “There must have been 1,000 people there—maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration—but it was one of the rowdiest, most exuberant and fun experiences to see the community reaction to that film. I’ve gone to a lot of festivals in my life and that was one of the most memorable moments.”
Heck adds there’s a local trend towards “eventifizing” movie screenings, either turning them into a party or maybe an evening out with dinner where participants discuss the film afterwards. As for the WFF, it’s finding ways to innovate.
The festival announced Robin Smith as its new director of film programming on June 10, and in the coming months the team will watch more than 2,000 films including shorts and features. That will be whittled down to approximately 50—a wealth of entertainment.
“There’s so many different layers to the industry. People will always have an urge to tell stories, to go out there and make a great feature film on a shoestring budget,” Heck says. “Yes, there’s a marketplace that’s driving the Hollywood experience, but that’s only one part of the industry.”
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When Mo Douglas was first working in the Whistler tourism industry during the 1990s, she said there was a visceral excitement in the community every time a new flick came to the Rainbow—she considered it a focal point of the community.
“As I was raising my kids, we spent a lot of time going to the movies, but it wasn’t too long before it had trouble,” she says. “The seats weren’t always in good repair, there was no projectionist, the sound wasn’t awesome. The blend of what technology could do and the labour challenges meant it was not always the best experience.”
And though the community lamented the loss of first the Rainbow, and then Village 8, she believes they did little to help either flourish.
“People would say, ‘it’s awful the movie theatre is gone,’ and I’d ask, ‘when was the last time you went and saw a movie there?’ They’d say, ‘four, five years ago,’” Douglas says. “And you wonder why the theatre failed!”
That’s why, now that she’s executive director of Arts Whistler, she’s hosting a monthly movie night called The People’s Film that showcases cult classics. It has helped fill the local movie theatre void, and ignited the party spirit of attendees. The venue, the Maury Young Arts Centre, was at one point used as a chapel, and it’s no coincidence the gatherings held there are pseudo-religious in nature, with people coming together like a congregation to share emotionally impactful experiences.
“The community gets to choose, and we know we need to make this an event,” Douglas says. “We are competing with every streaming service, competing with your sofa at the end of the day. Screens are getting cheaper and people have home theatres and we’re very aware of that.”
Douglas does consulting work with creative organizations across the province, and has witnessed first-hand the struggle of small-town theatres. The ones that are successful, in towns like Nelson and Campbell River, are the ones with enthusiastic community support. Elsewhere, like in Duncan, they’re closing down permanently.
Douglas feels it helps to think outside the box, making the theatre a hub for flamboyantly fun events such as parades or the annual Zombie Walk. For the Arts Whistler screening, organizers select four films, then ask people to vote on which one they’d like to screen. During the event they hold costume contests, insert intermissions for people to refill their drink, and stock their bar with custom-designed concoctions related to what’s on screen.
“When it’s The Big Lebowski, it would be White Russians. I’ve never seen so many people show up in housecoats. We had a couple show up to Alien with one of them having a chest burster and beside him Ripley with a fake gun. The effort was fantastic,” she says.
“We’re not going to be doing super fresh-run films, because that’s too expensive and we have limited access. But we definitely try to do themes, and we’ve developed a bit of a cult following that has really resonated in Whistler. It’s locally focused but if you’re a visitor you’re always welcome here.”
Attendance hovers around 50 audience members. It’s a model that has worked out financially for them.
“We cover our costs, so it’s been really fun. Recently we had a dance contest for Pulp Fiction and one couple showed up as Uma Thurman and John Travolta. They did the whole diner dance with fake cigarettes,” she says.
“It’s not just about the movie, it’s about everything that comes with it.”
The future of movies in Whistler remains in flux.
By some estimates, it takes a population of approximately 40,000 to sustain a commercial theatre—which is more than double the population of this little mountain town. The fact the Rainbow and Village 8 theatres lasted as long as they did could be viewed as a minor miracle of sorts, one that currently seems unlikely to be repeated.
There are rumblings in the community of resurrecting the Village 8, or starting a new theatre altogether. Last year Tourism Whistler CEO Barrett Fisher acknowledged the Rainbow was a community asset, but wasn’t set up for “popcorn and cokes spilling on the floor.” That being said, the local tourism industry is exploring how to support “weather-independent activities.”
Banks isn’t holding his breath.
“There’s a German philosopher who once said that when we go to a movie, we get to see that other people think what we think is funny, is funny. They jump at the jump scare like we do. It reminds us we’re not alone. It’s not solipsistic, it’s a shared experience that is comforting,” he says.
“I hear people lamenting that loss in Whistler. They’re talking about opening a theatre bar like they have in the states. There’s a few challenges because space is expensive and distribution is tricky. So I’ve heard the rumours, but I don’t think we’ll be seeing another theatre in Whistler any time soon,” he adds. “I wish that wasn’t true.”
