Cinema in Rural Newfoundland

Article posted Fri Jul 11 15:09:06 2003

The huge icebergs were far behind us, gleaming white chunky blobs in the dark water. The eight other tourists were relaxed, gazing absently at the ocean or reloading cameras during the anticlimactic, twenty-minute ride back to the harbor on a peninsula in northern Newfoundland. The waves were choppy but tolerable, and as the boat captain maneuvered us around a rocky shoal, I made conversation with his teenaged daughter. One of the best things about running tours, she said, was getting a chance to meet people from all over the world. She asked what I did for a living, and was intrigued by one of my answers, film criticism.

“What’s it like, seeing movies all the time?” she asked. I told her of the hard work, the long hours, writing up reviews in my sparse spare time, all in a labor of love for my small clan of devoted readers. The Hollywood parties made up for it, though, and I regaled her with stories of swanky lunches with stars and directors (okay, I embellished a bit).

When she asked what the last film I saw was, and I told her I’d reviewed The Italian Job. She nodded, and I returned the question. She smiled, shrugged, and said only that it had been a while. As we spoke, I gradually realized why the topic was so interesting to her: the curious state of cinema in Newfoundland.

Much of Newfoundland is rural; other than the capital of St. John’s and a handful of medium-sized cities (such as Cornerbrook and Gander), the towns are tiny and spread out. Though it’s not a huge island, one can easily drive for an hour on the main highway without seeing a town or even a home.

The many small towns that dot the island are barely big enough to support a restaurant or two, a gas station, and a corner store. Supermarkets are rare, and theaters can only be found in the two or three largest cities. I’d guess the entire island has fewer than a dozen cinemas.

The experience, like any good travel experience, opened my eyes to how other people live. My apartment is within walking distance of two movie theaters, each of which has eight screens. While I may see two or three films a week in theaters, many Newfoundlanders likely see closer to two or three per year. This isn’t due to lack of interest; instead, the distances are simply prohibitive, and in the rural areas films are more like special occasions than routine entertainment. One woman in the town of Robert’s Arm (population 1,000) told me that she and her family don’t go to movies at all, “unless it’s [a special event] like Harry Potter , where the kids just have to go.” Filmgoers’ enthusiasm is certainly dampened by the four-hour round-trip drive to the nearest theater. Including the two hours to watch the film, that’s most of a day just to take in the pictures.

A perusal of the local newspapers reflect just how sparse the cinema presence is in Newfoundland; instead of a long list of showtimes and venues, many movie ads offer just one screening theater— and only a few showings.

As a result, most Newfoundlanders get their movie fix on the small screen. Chains like Blockbuster can be found in only a few cities, but most of the convenience stores (and even some gas stations) double as video stores. Along with pineapple Crush and cream soda (which seem to be favorites in the region), a well-stocked shelf of reasonably current video and DVD releases is a must for any viable convenience store.

For all of the touted American convenience, instant gratification, and easy access to entertainment, many Newfoundlanders seem just as happy to be out of the fast-paced news and entertainment loop. One bed & breakfast owner, while showing the room to let, said that the television came with a remote control and included cable and CNN. He made it clear he didn’t have much use for it, though: “It’s all bad news anyway,” he said. “You can get the latest on the war or whatever crisis there is…” The rush to catch the latest news or see the hottest film seems lost on this rocky isle: If it’s important news, they’ll hear about it, and if it’s a good movie, well, they’ll catch it on video sooner or later.

As I stepped off the boat, I thought about the beautiful searing white floating sculptures the tour guides saw twice a day, majestic sights most of us won’t see close up in our lifetimes. I said goodbye to our captain and his daughter, and realized that maybe they weren’t missing that much after all.