It’s been ages since I last set foot in a cinema. Fewer trips to the theatre mean fewer films watched. Today, I stayed in and finally gave Cinema Paradiso a go. Yes, I know—how had I not seen this “divine” masterpiece before? But here we are. And let me tell you, it hit me like a freight train.
When you look at things through different lengths of time, you see them differently. I’m not one to dissect or analyse—never have been. I go by feeling, by instinct, and that’s how I’ve always run this little corner of mine. I write down my impressions after watching a film, capturing the scenes or dialogue that stick with me. But more often than not, what comes out isn’t about the film itself. It’s about the personal memories, literature, or music that it stirs up inside me.
This time, though, I won’t approach Cinema Paradiso like that. Because this isn’t just a film—it’s so many films wrapped into one. It’s a story that spans decades and encapsulates the shifting tides of time.
From a society ruled by the church’s conservatism to a freer, more open community—where the taboo of a kiss on screen becomes commonplace—you see how cinema captures the pulse of the people. Watching all those wide, shining eyes in the dark, drinking in the light of the big screen, is as thrilling as the films themselves. They laughed, they cried, they lived through those stories. And now, in this post-pandemic world, those scenes feel more poignant, more beautiful. And as with anything beautiful, it feels achingly distant.
The shift from church to “Cinema Paradiso” is a fascinating metaphor. The eternal and divine of the church gives way to the freedom of a privately owned cinema, unbound by censorship. Which one is closer to God? I can’t say. But the latter certainly brings more joy.
Running this blog, I often get asked why I love cinema. It’s a tricky question because, really, liking films doesn’t require a reason. Cinema isn’t some niche, underground hobby. It’s universal. There’s nothing to boast about in saying “I love movies.” The real question is: how much time and passion are you willing to invest? Are you like Alfredo and Salvatore, willing to dedicate your life to this art form?
I once read about someone who started tracking their movie-watching journey on MUBI. Over the years, they logged over 2,000 films—averaging two a day. That’s dedication. That’s obsession. And yes, MUBI itself is equally obsessive, with its constant rotation of films, each disappearing before you can blink.
This year’s Golden Globes were dominated by streaming platforms—86 nominations, with Netflix taking 44 of them. A new era is upon us. First, film reels became obsolete, and now, even the traditional cinema is under threat.
Ang Lee once said at the Oscars, “Thank you, movie god.” That simple phrase has stuck with me. There’s magic in those words—a power to move you, to give you goosebumps. Since hearing it, it’s been etched in my mind.
After watching Cinema Paradiso today, I thought of that movie god again. Where is their temple? Surely, it has to be the cinema itself.
If I ever get the chance to watch this film again in a theatre, I’ll treasure every moment. From the ads to the credits, I’ll soak it all in. And as I leave, I’ll quietly whisper, “Thank you, movie god.”
