On 6 July 2024, we hosted a panel entitled The Embodied Cinema: Why Do We (Still) Need the Physical Space of Cinema? as part of the Cinema of Commoning Symposium. Below is an edited transcript of the conversation.

In order to grasp the importance of cinema as a physical space, and to address why in-person festivals and other cultural gatherings have flourished more than ever in recent years, we must understand cinema’s multi-layered role as a socio-cultural hub. As Foucault describes, cinema functions as a heterotopia – a place of otherness that juxtaposes several spaces in one. This unique characteristic allows cinema to serve as a point for communal gathering, where diverse groups including marginalized communities, film collectives and individuals of all ages, are able to thrive and share their experiences. 

The new generation of digital natives are becoming more and more interested in tactile and sensory experiences – such as working with analog film material, engaging in discussions and exchanges, and sharing convivial moments before and after screenings. How have our audiences changed in recent years? What are the audience’s expectations, and how do these align with those of cinemas, distributors, and filmmakers? Understanding these dynamics sheds light on what continues to make the physical space of the cinema so attractive and vital in our increasingly digitized and disembodied contemporary society.

Abiba Coulibaly, Brixton Community Cinema (London, United Kingdom) 
Katia Rossini, Nova (Brussels, Belgium)
Ares Shporta, Kino Lumbardhi (Prizren, Kosovo)
Rabih El-Khoury, Metropolis Cinema/Cinematheque Beirut (Beirut, Lebanon)
Lysann Windisch, MUBI (Berlin, Germany)
Moderation: Chima Okerenkwo, SİNEMA TRANSTOPIA (Berlin, Germany)

Chima Okerenkwo (SİNEMA TRANSTOPIA): We have some very established institutions here with us today. Kino Lumbardhi has existed for 76 years, Nova for 27 years and Metropolis for 18 years. How has the history of your spaces and the environment around you shaped your cinemas? How have your organizations evolved over these periods?

Katia Rossini (Nova): Well, actually, three days ago, during an interview, I was asked if I consider Nova an underground cinema. I replied that we first need to define what we mean by “underground.” Often, it’s a label imposed on your organization from the outside. When we started Nova, we were indeed on the margins of institutionalized culture. For three years, we were entirely self-funded and struggled for recognition from both the Flemish and French-speaking communities in Belgium. Then little by little, we started gaining recognition from funders, which helped us transition from a marginal organization to one that is integral to the Belgian audiovisual landscape. Over the years, I feel we’ve managed to impact Brussels’ cultural landscape, becoming an inspiration for many organizations. We’ve also influenced the funding landscape, prompting authorities to reshape their policies to accommodate us.

Chima: This brings us to Rabih. Metropolis was the first art house cinema in Lebanon. How has the development of the cinema impacted your immediate surroundings, the neighborhood in Beirut for instance?

Rabih El-Khoury (Metropolis Cinema/Cinematheque Beirut): When you describe us in this way, it’s quite nice to think of Metropolis as “ancient!” 18 years may not seem like a lifetime, but every day has been a learning experience. We face new challenges constantly–whether it’s government collapse or a bomb exploding next door… When you encounter these challenges you somehow just deal with it. A key challenge has been building an audience who would come to us regularly, even amidst chaos. 

When we started, we were a very small team responsible for everything. I had to clean the cinema, I had to do the accounting, the ticketing. We had a small popcorn machine that sometimes didn’t function. I had to deal with that! But also we had to deal with financing, with funding, with making sure that we had a projectionist who would turn up on time, that the 35mm would run. All of this gives you an overview of what it takes to run a space. When you don’t have infrastructure, or role models, you make your own rules. For us, it was very important to do something for and with the public. We had to establish that relationship very fast. The space we started with was very small, and with a growing audience, we needed a bigger space to host screenings. That was a very nice challenge, because in addition to the millions of challenges that we deal with in Lebanon, I even had to go to the censorship board… At the same time, we were driven by the desire to work out how to operate the space. How do we make sure that this place is vibrant, that it continues, that it prospers even though there were at this time no other models available in the country for what we were trying to do? I think if you have the passion to do that, and you have a team that is very eager to learn, that experience can be really fun. You also have to consider everything around you, no matter how awful it is, as a push for you. In the end, cinema is resistance, screening films in times of war is resistance. It’s a cultural activity to make people reflect on the films they see and draw connections with their surroundings.

Katia: I would like to add that while we started Nova with a specific foundation, we’ve continually re-evaluated what we were doing in terms of programming but also in terms of our internal organization. Nova is an evolving project, and we also don’t follow a fixed model. We engage with many other organizations within a constantly shifting context. Our programming reflects our core values while adapting to changes in the film landscape.

Chima: Ares, how has it been for Kino Lumbardhi over its 76 years? How does the cinema contribute to the broader social fabric of Prizren and impact its environment? 

Ares Shporta (Kino Lumbardhi): I’m reminded of the famous quote [from Winston Churchill]: “the Balkans produce more history than they are able to consume.”This resonates with me when I connect Lumbardhi to its historical context. The cinema’s story is closely linked to the history of the country, how society was shaped, how the political system was formed, and how technology was developed. Cinema began as technology, as a way of killing time and interacting with others. Then, there was a second phase which came just after the war when the cinema was obsolete and nobody was interested in dealing with it. Then came Dokufest which activated the cinema again and encouraged the  authorities to support the cinema, which of course didn’t happen. As we were trying to revive the cinema, we were faced with two options. One was more utilitarian: we have a space, how can we make it operational? Then the other option was to look deeper and really ask “What is it that we are trying to build?” Because we are not an independent cinema in a place where you have cineplexes, multiplexes, this kind of infrastructure. There’s none of that. So we embody both the alternative and mainstream, the historic and contemporary. 

Chima: How are you bridging that gap? How do you make a programme that is attractive for both the older and the younger generations?

Ares: We developed a few tools. Securing the physical space of the cinema was essential, as it was saved by being a cultural heritage site due to its importance for collective memory. It was secured through a civic, bottom-up resistance and a proactive attitude. We set a few goals. One was to activate the space. Another was to deal with the cultural system, especially since we’re living through a pretty unique history right now. Believe it or not, the state of Kosovo was only established seven years before our non-profit. So it’s a very particular context. We thought we needed to work short-term to activate and save the space and bring in a new cinematic practice. But on the flip side, we also had to think about how we could shape a new cultural system through that practice and build solidarity with other cinemas, and other social and cultural initiatives in the country. A third goal was to question the role of a public, independent cultural institution at a time like this in the world and specifically in Kosovo. Basically, we took an open-ended approach, and we took our time. 

Our initial focus was on getting the cinema restored, which we thought would happen in three to five years. But here we are, 10 years later, and it hasn’t even started yet. If we’d known that, perhaps we would have articulated a more solid direction. Instead we adopted this very fluid approach and, honestly,  there was no real knowledge of running a cultural institution or independent cinema in this particular specific set of circumstances. So where do you start? With what you have. You have someone studying film, or someone with a particular interest, and they start to bring in their model. At first, there isn’t really a point of comparison; there is no real logic to why you choose one film or another. We did look into Yugoslav cinema and the history of the films shown in the cinema, that was one point of entry. For a while, we could only choose films that were available for free, so that meant just showing French Week, German Week or whatever. We didn’t like that idea, so we thought, “Okay, let’s do a pirate cinema.” We won’t announce the names of what we’re screening because the distributors don’t care what’s happening here. So we started to have an independent programming team, based on the two, three, four cinephiles who were willing to volunteer their time and knowledge of cinema to organize screenings for which 10, 20 and eventually 30 people might show up. It was all about building a habit. 

Chima: Fast forward to 2022 – Lysann and Abiba, you launched two completely different projects: MUBI GO in Germany and Brixton Community Cinema in London. What motivated you during this time, especially coming out of the COVID pandemic? Did you feel there was a renewed need for physical cinema spaces?

Lysann Windisch (MUBI): That’s an interesting question. We initially planned to launch earlier, but then the pandemic hit. Our conversations with cinemas were extensive and it took a while to convince them of this concept. For them, a streaming service often feels like the enemy. So it took a while to show them that MUBI GO would bring in new audiences without them losing anything. Those conversations stopped in 2020, because cinemas had their own issues to deal with. Once they reopened, we tried to rekindle those discussions. The pandemic gave us a good argument: we needed to work together to bring audiences back and reestablish the habit of going to the cinema.  What we see now, especially in the current market, is extreme polarization in the kind of films which are being seen. The market is dominated by mainstream and studio productions. What we are trying to do, and what we see with our members, is that they are exploring certain smaller films they would not necessarily pick themselves. They trust us in our curation, and for them, there is no barrier. They don’t have to pay for individual tickets, so it lowers the barrier to trying something new.

Chima: How do you select the films for MUBI GO?

Lysann: The cinemas we are partnering with have no obligation to show the films we select, which can be challenging. For instance, in the past two weeks, the films which we chose for MUBI GO weren’t even playing in Frankfurt at all, so we needed to balance that out. The cinemas do their own programming, and we have no say in that. We send newsletters highlighting the films we select for the coming months, and sometimes that encourages the cinema to screen the film, because they know that some MUBI members will come.

Abiba Coulibaly (Brixton Community Cinema): I know you framed the question as applying to 2022 onwards, but I’d actually like to respond by looking at the historical background, in the same way that other speakers have. The history and the environment of the area was a big influence on starting Brixton community cinema. It’s important for me to consider the historical patterns of cinema-going in Brixton, which extend beyond a century, alongside the more recent two to three decades of predatory economic patterns affecting Brixton. The borough is home to one of the oldest cinemas in London, The Ritzy, which has been operating since 1911. There is a long-standing history of cinema going in the area, but with gentrification, ticket prices have risen dramatically. I think it’s really important to acknowledge how cultural spaces and cinemas benefit from collaborating with gentrification at times. In 2022, tickets at The Ritzy were £17.50, which is about €20 euros, if you wanted to go in the evening or the weekends. At the same time, there was a public campaign about how the cinema wasn’t paying London living wage to its staff. So we’re at a point where cinema might not be economically accessible, and it also doesn’t feel ethical to attend. Brixton Community Cinema was partially a response to that; we have this gorgeous cinema operating for over 100 years that I grew up going to, but I can no longer afford to attend and don’t feel comfortable inviting my friends to because of the gentrification in the area. There has to be another alternative, there has to be another space for people to view films.

Now I also have to think, what role do I play in all of this? The only reason I can operate in a railway arch without paying anything is because it’s on the periphery of Brixton. It’s not a viable or attractive part of town. However, I’m also aware that by activating this empty space, by bringing in an audience, by creating a buzz, it might make owners think this could be profitable. They might not have cared about it before, but now that I’m showing films and bringing people in, it could drive up the prices of the units we operate in.  So I started the project in response to gentrification, and now I’m questioning the role these screenings might play in the future.

Chima: Each of your screenings is different. Can you give us an insight into your conceptual approach and how you choose the places for your film screenings?

Abiba: I don’t know that there’s a conceptual approach all the time, because sometimes I’m really just at the mercy of the property market. I started wherever would have me, simply because there were empty spaces that weren’t being rented. But when businesses moved in, we had to move out, because it’s more attractive for the people that run the market to have paying participants. That’s why we’ve had to keep changing spaces and have no set venue. And again, the railway arch was chosen simply for the reason that it was free and that there was nothing going on inside it.

Chima: If I understand you correctly, the films you choose might also impact the places where you’re showing them. As a film programmer, do you think that the space decides what film you show, or do the films decide the space?

Abiba: I think it’s the space, but in a much wider sense – not just Brixton, but London in general. I wanted a program that reflected the city I grew up in and love. The only way to do that was to start interrogating what I was doing. I chose the name Brixton Community Cinema quite arbitrarily, and only after a couple of months did I realize I  needed to think about what community means. For me, that meant a community cinema couldn’t just be programmed by one person. It had to be programmed with the community. As a result, I don’t program that much myself. Instead, I invite people from across the city who run different charitable and sports initiatives to come in and show a film. I realized that although I watch broadly, I also have many blind spots and a way to counter that was through a collective program. I’m really interested in blurring the line between who’s in the audience and who’s programming. What does it mean when there’s more circulation? I wanted to reflect London as a global city, as a microcosm of the world, reflected in the films that were being shown and chosen.

 Chima: Rabih, in your case you have a fixed space, so the films that you show speak directly to the neighborhood, and in a wider sense, the country that you’re living in. How do you create programs in this particular physical space in relation to your environment?

Rabih: We had three phases for this space. Metropolis started in 2006 as an underground theater in Hamra Street, in central Beirut. Then we moved to a space that hosted two screens which could seat 260 each, so this was a big change for us. This new location was on the other side of Beirut, in Achrafieh. People said we should move to a posher area. The area we moved to was not really posh, but it was somewhere where we had a space and could operate, which led us to a different programming. We moved from an underground space to a more visible one in the heart of Beirut. This raised questions for us, how do we operate as a bigger, more established cinema, as opposed to an underground organization? We were forced to shut down that space in 2021 because of everything happening in Beirut–the pandemic, the explosion, the currency collapse. Then, we began operating as a pop-up, which taught us what decentralizing meant. All our events were taking place in Beirut, but we also wanted to bring Metropolis to other parts of the country. It was thrilling to discover what it means to do screenings in the south, north, in the refugee camps on the eastern side, where there are no cinemas operating. 

Every space is different. You have to consider what kind of film to show, what the audience expects, and what’s feasible. Censorship plays a big role in our country, along with self-censorship. I can’t just go and say I’m gonna screen Blue is the Warmest Color in the south, for instance; I can’t even screen that film in Beirut. We reflect on what is possible in each space. We aim to bring film after film so that the public will come again. Ultimately, we want to create a space in the heart of Beirut that we are building, which hopefully belongs both to us and the city. In that space, we can program what we want without worrying about other metrics or interference, because we know we own it. This is our space. I don’t have to think about the multiplex or what the theater owner or the guy in the camp will say. As Abiba said, the public is our biggest consideration. The films that we program are not necessarily always our favorites. We operate for an audience and want to have a conversation with them. It’s important to listen to that audience. When we started doing retrospectives at Metropolis, I remember someone coming to me and said, “Now that you’re doing these big things on 35mm, please bring Fellini.” So we spoke with the Italian Embassy and we brought in Fellini’s films. Later, that guy came to me and said, “Whoa, you listened to us! Can you do Visconti?” It is important to us to feel that people are part of our creative decisions. We decided to have an animation film festival because someone said, “We don’t know our animation in the Arab world, and we never see our films on screen. Is it possible to instigate something like that?” So we brought these people in to curate the program with us, because we’re not experts in animation. I think the public is just as important as the space in which you operate, whether you are in the heart of the capital, or outside.

Chima: This brings me to you, Katia, because your cinema is in the heart of the city center. You were already talking about gentrification happening around your space. How are you adapting to prices getting more expensive and all this happening around you?

Katia: First, I would like to address the question of programming from a different angle. Often, the starting point for establishing an independent cinema comes from a sense of urgency to showcase a certain type of film. We want to propose a specific cultural landscape, or respond to gaps in what is currently being shown. This concept of filling a gap is essential. There are some films that escape normal distribution and which you want to make space for. When we started Nova, we called the project cinéma d’urgence because there was an urgency for us to screen films that didn’t fit anywhere else. We proved that there was both a space and an audience for those films. 

Now, the landscape around us–the cultural landscape, the city landscape–is evolving, and that’s an interesting challenge. It means rethinking our program and establishing new collaborations with new associations and organizations. At Nova, we are connected to Belgium’s dense network of associations. Nova has always collaborated with many different organizations from many other countries in Europe. But then I could add that there is another way to collaborate with “proper” institutions–those connected to public authorities and that have public funding.. Creating conditions for dialogue with these institutions is also interesting. 

I think it’s essential to evolve if you want your organization to survive. After 27 years, if we had not been in a constant process of evaluating what we do, we would have ceased to exist long ago. Every year, we go for a retreat for two to three days outside Brussels, where we spend a lot of time reviewing the past year, evaluating what has  and planning for the future. We discuss in depth various aspects of programming, management and everything else.

One last reflection: I often say that the film landscape is like a chessboard or a domino board. When a new operator appears on the scene, it inevitably  and influences the landscape. You have to consider this interplay, whether it’s a new cinema or a new festival, and figure out how to establish a dialogue with these players.

Chima: But how do you do that? How does one, for instance, collaborate with a global streaming service when they are seen as competitors in attracting an audience? Specifically, how is collaboration sought, and how does one engage in exchange? 

Katia: Personally, I don’t feel Nova is in competition with anyone. We have our way of programming our identity. We often discuss our editorial line and people know what we do and come to Nova for that reason.

Chima: From the standpoint of a streaming service, do you see yourself as competing with cinemas, or are you actively supporting them?  Especially with MUBI, which is doing a great job of showing world cinema. This raises questions about who will see the the films you are showing within MUBI GO. How you make films from specific areas available to people from those areas.  For instance, if there’s a new film by Nuri Bilge Ceylan, it would be great to select a neighborhood with a vibrant Turkish community for screenings. Is this something you consider in your operational model?

Lysann: Yes, we do consider that.  We don’t see ourselves as competitors because we actively work with cinemas. We want to promote the theatrical experience. We have our own films that we release into cinemas. It’s a big investment, but it also shows that we stand behind the big screen and want to champion it. That’s our market positioning.. Regarding your latter question, this is something we are working on. Currently, we can’t pursue a targeted release strategy because our model is based on the cinema’s programming. But this is something we are discussing with distributors. We would love to be able to bring more value to our film community. For example, creating special events for specific groups would be fantastic.. The current structure is quite rigid, but it is something that we genuinely want to explore.

Audience Question: This question is for Abiba. Brixton Community Cinema is nomadic at the moment, but do you envision having a permanent space one day? Or is that not something desirable for you because of all the problems associated with having a permanent location?

Abiba: I do think about permanent space for exhibiting films, as well as to a place to live and work in film. At the moment, I can’t afford to move out of my mum’s home, so I don’t see an adult future for myself in the city that I grew up in. My intention is to move to Morocco, and I would love to open a cinema there. But the reason I am considering opening a cinema in Morocco is not because that’s my ideal physical space, although I love it, but rather it’s because I cannot continue living in London. For as long as I’m in the UK, it will be a pop-up project. Before thinking about a physical space, I need to consider where I will live. And if that’s not going to happen in the UK, it’s going to have to be somewhere else, and then the film space will also need to be there.

Something I’ve been thinking about a lot recently is how the victims of gentrification often become gentrifiers elsewhere. I know this must happen a lot in Berlin too, because there’s such a big expat community here. If you can’t afford to live where you’re from, you will go and find somewhere cheaper, and then you’re recreating the same dynamic you’re trying to escape. I’m half West African, but I’m also British with a European passport. So what kind of privileges do I have if I choose to operate in a country like Morocco? These are all things that I think about, but a physical space isn’t viable for us, for a home, let alone a cinema, in London. For me, at least.

Abiba Coulibaly is a film programmer with a background in critical geography. After launching Magnum Photos’ UK Film Festival, she joined the BFI as Programming Assistant, and now programmes for Film Africa and Open City Documentary Festival. Her projects Brixton Community Cinema and Atlas Cinema are experiments in what democratizing access to cinema – as both space and medium – could look like.

Rabih El-Khoury holds a Bachelor of Arts in Journalism from the Lebanese American University in Beirut and a Masters of Arts in Creative and Cultural Entrepreneurship from Goldsmiths, University of London. He has been working with the Metropolis Association, which manages Metropolis Cinema, the only art house cinema in Lebanon, since its inception in 2006. Initially an administrator, he became Managing Director and is now a member of its administrative board. He also worked for the cultural association Beirut DC, promoting Arab Cinema as general coordinator for its Arab film festival, The Beirut Cinema Days, from 2006 to 2015. He organized over 20 Arab film weeks in the Arab World and Europe. El-Khoury served as Program Manager of Talents Beirut between 2014 and 2019, curated the Film Prize of the Robert Bosch Stiftung from 2017 until the end of the program in 2021, and held the position of Diversity Manager at DFF – Deutsches Filminstitut & Filmmuseum in Frankfurt am Main between 2019 and 2023. He currently curates the SAFAR Film Festival of the Arab British Center in the UK, Arab Cinema Week for Cinema Akil in Dubai, is a programmer at ALFILM, the Arab Film Festival of Berlin, and collaborates with AFRIKAMERA in Berlin.

Ares Shporta is a cultural worker, producer and researcher based between Kosovo and Albania. As Co-founder and Director of Lumbardhi Foundation since 2015, he has been leading the institutional transformation of Prizren’s iconic Lumbardhi Cinema. His work includes initiating research projects in cultural histories, commissioning new works in music, film and visual arts and organizing public programs. He actively engages in community and infrastructure building, as well as advocacy in law-making and policy-making processes. Shporta also works as a film producer, and serves as advisor, lecturer or board member at various non-profits, arts organizations and educational institutions in South-Eastern Europe.

Chima Okerenkwo is a filmmaker and film curator. He founded the performative film screening series Synergie and co-founded the film collective BIPoC Film Society. He was the Ambassador for Diversity at the Staatliche Kunstsammlung Dresden and created film and video art programs for renowned venues like Haus der Kulturen der Welt, Julia Stoschek Foundation and Trauma Bar und Kino. Currently, he is co-directing an experimental documentary scheduled to premiere at the Staatliche Kunsthalle Baden-Baden in 2025. Okerenkwo lives and works in Berlin.

Lysann Windisch managed several arthouse cinemas in Munich and Berlin for over 5 years, and also curated and organized festivals and film events with a focus on Eastern European film. In 2018, she joined the Chinese-European producers’ association Bridging the Dragon  as manager for festivals and partnerships. From 2019-2021, she headed the international training program NEXT WAVE at the Berlin Film School DFFB, which dealt with innovative exploitation strategies in the film market. Since 2020, she has been in charge of MUBI Germany’s marketing activities and has been responsible for its German distribution division as Director of Distribution, Germany since 2022. She was a mentor for the CICAE training in Venice from 2017-2022 and is on the jury for the Medienboard Berlin-Brandenburg’s cinema program award in 2023.