Article by Phoenix writer Griffin Strauss ’25: The smell of butter flavoring and freshly popped kernels overwhelms my nostrils as I step in line for concessions. There is no line, and I walk right to the counter. I walk down the carpeted hallway dressed with lighted movie posters, popcorn and soda in hand, passing auditorium after auditorium in search of theater number six; the corridor is empty, crumpled napkins drifting between walls like tumbleweeds in a deserted western landscape. Finally, I step into the dark theater, and the silver screen displays previews for blockbuster hits and indie gems. I am the only one in the empty theater, and the sound of the kernels between my teeth echoes through the vacant room. This is the reality of modern-day cinema. I will never forget that mid-December night when I was nine years old. I stepped into a packed theater with my