Will You Go to the Movies With Me?

By Frank Filocomo

The neighborhood cinema used to be a go-to place for date nights, friend hangouts, and various other outings. 

Today, though, the public theater has largely been supplanted by the at-home entertainment system.

What's more, some American towns have no movie theaters at all. 

In Commonplace, Jon Bishop writes that the city of Worcester, Massachusetts doesn't have a single movie theater.

Some reddit users on the r/WorcesterMA subreddit have corroborated this. 

On that forum, u/MattOLOLOL, wrote: "As to why we can't sustain a movie theater anymore, I'm not sure. I'd bet the pandemic was a big factor, but still, we're a city of over 200k."

Another user commented: "I think people just don't go out to the movies anymore." 

Whatever the case, this is profoundly sad. The movie theater, as documented in Giuseppe Tornatore's magnum opus, Cinema Paradiso, is an integral part of community life. Without it, we are relegated to our bedrooms to passively watch Netflix while phubbing on our smart phones. 

This privatization of movie watching, Bishop argues, has further eroded the American monoculture:

Along with the decline of the form itself, the collapse of moviegoing portends the continued collapse of our common culture. Going to the movies with family and friends and then talking about what you saw, perhaps over a meal, after the film was something a lot of people once enjoyed doing. And it was an activity that was truly democratic, as it was something the rich and the poor could do equally. And popular films also led to water cooler conversations.

The "water cooler conversations," that Bishop mentions, are simply harder to have today, as we are all watching different things. 

Michael Brendan Dougherty made a similar point in National Review last year:

There is a sense in which our culture has been frozen since the 1990s. The internet and paid cable TV really got to work on resegregating, silo-ing, and deconstructing what had been a common, mass popular culture. It was thrown to flinders as people bought multiple cheap TVs, and then Napster, the iPod, and the iPad tore it up in a BitTorrent. Eighty-three million viewers had once tuned in to see who shot J. R. in 1980; 76.3 million tuned in to watch Jerry Seinfeld and his friends put in the slammer in 1998.

Now, Seinfeld producer and writer of that finale, Larry David, has relitigated that episode in the finale of Curb Your Enthusiasm, which was watched by just 1.1 million people.

This is a troubling development...

While streaming Netflix and Hulu and DoorDashing food to your apartment is convenient, it is completely devoid of social connection. 

In fact, Bishop remarks that, with the advent of contactless delivery, we don't even have that brief face-to-face interaction with the person dropping off our meals. 

Everything has become decentralized, impersonal, and individualized. 

This trend, if it is to continue, will only compound our current scourge of social atomization. 

But, as I've said before, people - young people, especially - are yearning for a return to community. 

We see this in the form of hip dine-in theaters like the Nitehawk Cinema in Brooklyn (this place is always packed with zoomers), and drive-in theaters, which are still present all over the country. 

Look, I understand that the times are changing - I don't mean to sound like a hopeless reactionary - but it's perfectly reasonable to point out the tradeoffs of "progress." Expediency, for instance, comes at the price of interpersonal interactions. We've seen this with the emergence of self-checkout kiosks. 

But, while we can't go back to yesteryear, we can keep some old traditions alive. 

So... will you go to the movies with me?

Are Libraries Getting Louder?

 

By Frank Filocomo

You should be able to hear a pin drop in a library, right? The only sound ought to be the turning of a page or perhaps some faint whispers, no?

Maybe not so much anymore. It appears as though the library as a quiet place is becoming increasingly anachronistic.

Libraries are shifting their focus from places of solitary reading to community centers with a range of programming.

In Governing, Alan Ehrenhalt observes that libraries are embracing their new status as "third places."

From the article:

We are all familiar with the stereotype of the fussy librarian telling patrons to keep quiet. That tradition is disappearing. Nearly all libraries still have designated quiet rooms, but everywhere else in the building silence is no longer a requirement. People can talk as much as they want to.

At first blush, one might lament the changing character of libraries, and that is perfectly understandable. Change is always hard. But, we have to come to terms with our contemporary plague of loneliness and social isolation. If libraries can reinvent themselves and become community-hubs, then all the better. So long as they maintain reservable private study rooms, I doubt many folks will complain. 

More from the piece:

An increasing number of libraries have opened cafes to enhance local sociability. Many have placed job-training centers inside. Seattle’s main library contains a satellite City Hall. Charlotte is building an indoor-outdoor library to attract more customers year-round. The library in Athens, Ga., has become a focal point for chess tournaments...

After reading this, I began to wonder: what does my local library offer? 

I was shocked to see the wide array of programming available: writing workshops, knitting clubs, a videogame group for teens, arts and crafts, and English literacy courses for immigrants. 

How did I not know about this incredible resource that is just blocks away from where I've lived for years?

Encouraged by the fact that my local branch is active - I truly thought it was dormant, nothing more than a vacant building - I applied for a few volunteer positions there. 

So, I encourage you: look into the programs available at your local library. While it'll probably be a bit noisier than you remember, it might just be a valuable place for companionship and social connection.

The Frank Forum Turns Two!

By Frank Filocomo

When I launched The Frank Forum in March of 2023, I wanted to create a space for communitarian-minded thinkers to be able to freely engage in ideas that were heterodox and truly counter to the prevailing neoliberal consensus of autonomy-maximizing libertarianism.  

We mustn't lose sight of the fact that civil society is a prerequisite for democracy in the fullest sense of the word. That is, an atomized citizenry - much like a sick fish that loses its slime coat, the protective layer that aids in thwarting off disease and bacterial infection - will invariably fall ill and, therefore, susceptible to dangerous, meretricious ideologies and regimes. 

A society typified by robust levels of civil society, however, is far less likely to be seduced by illiberalism and flimsy utopian claims. 

American Enterprise Institute senior fellow Tim Carney makes this point in his must-read book, Alienated America: Why Some Places Thrive While Others Collapse (Harper, 2019).

The thesis is actually quite simple: civil society is, in effect, your slime coat.

So... why start a blog when this social malady of alienation has already been documented in various books?

Well, short blogs are, at least in my experience, easily digestible. Reading Bowling Alone once ten years ago isn't enough; we need to be constantly reminded of the things that plague us if we are to know how to tackle them in a meaningful way.

These posts - which are often short and without frills - are to serve as weekly reminders that we cannot just sit around and hope that things miraculously get better. We have to actually do things. 

That is why posts on here are not just descriptive; they are also normative and prescriptive. 

See: Becoming a Communitarian: A Guide of Sorts.

Two years isn't a long time, though. We have to stay on the beat. 

I am grateful to this blog's great contributors: Matthew Malec, Troy M. Olson, Laik J. Green, and others for their important pieces. 

I am also grateful to this blog's supporters such as Lynn Gibson and Jack Fowler for their promotion of this site. 

2025 is already off to a great start. Let's keep this ball rolling...

A Laugh From The Past

Credit: Pavel Danilyuk via Pexels

By Matthew J. Meyers

Growing up as a millennial in the early 2000's, I'm glad to have experienced the greatest era of comedy films ever made. Yes, I said it: EVER MADE! I say this for plenty of reasons, which I will elaborate on here. 

During this time - not just in film, but in all aspects of pop culture, such as in television, video games, and music - entertainment had a tendency to push the envelope and evoke a sense of shock for American consumers. My theory is that in the decades prior to the 2000's (specifically in the 80's and 90's) there were many musical artists, television producers, and filmmakers who have, figuratively speaking, walked the plank to controversy. Musical artists such as Judas Priest, Marilyn Manson, NWA, and many others had tested the boundaries of free speech by expressing their distaste for societal norms.

Following this was the creation of television programs in the late 1990's such as South Park, Family Guy, The Sopranos and many others. These would become some of the first shows in history to introduce mature content such as cursing, nudity, and off-color/dark humor.

I'm not implying that all of these components are necessary for great comedy, but the originality and introduction of this never-been-seen-before crudeness characterized some of the greatest comedy films ever made. 

Think about how quotable these films were: "Milk was a bad choice" Anchorman (2004), "We're the three best friends that anybody can have" The Hangover (2009), and "Mom, the meatloaf, F**k!" Wedding Crashers (2004). I don't know if its just in the nature of us millennials to cling onto a funny moment in a film and memorize it to the point where it becomes an inside joke amongst us, or if its something that sticks out about these films that keeps us remembering them for the rest of our lives. All I know is that I've never heard my parents quote the Breakfast Club or Animal House as we do with the films we grew up watching. 

That said, there's one last point that I'd like to make about the comedy films of my generation: this era of comedy fell among the last couple of good years before the wave of political correctness that has plagued our society. For a long while (estimated between around 2013-2020), it was looked down upon to make light of things that highlighted our differences (such as weight, race, gender etc.). This reluctance to break taboos, in my humble opinion, has ruined the fabric of our freedom of expression for a long time. 

In recent years, however, I've noticed that many millennials and zoomers have been opening their eyes to all of this and are taking a stand against it. Now, for better or worse, the pendulum is being swung in the complete opposite direction. This has, in turn, led to the rise of people like Andrew Tate who, in my opinion, are poisoning the minds of young men, leading them to think they have to constantly live in a state of "warrior-mentality," where life can't simply be cherished and enjoyed.   

The 2000's comedy era holds a special place in our hearts, not only because of the jokes and the satire, but because it takes us back to a simpler time in our lives. It serves as an important reminder to all of us that life shouldn't be taken so seriously no matter how hard things get. 

Nothing Like a Good Diner

 

By Frank Filocomo

There's no place like the neighborhood diner. 

Whenever I'm at my local diner drinking a hot cup of coffee, I can't help but think of Suzanne Vega's hit song, "Tom's Diner." I personally prefer her acapella rendition to the studio version. 

Some lines from the tune:

I am sitting in the morning

At the diner on the corner

I am waiting at the counter

For the man to pour the coffee

And he fills it only halfway

And before I even argue

He is looking out the window

At somebody coming in

There's something so evocative about Vega's lyrics. If you close your eyes and listen, it feels like you're there.  

The diner I frequent actually used to have little jukeboxes at every table. These were removed years ago, but man, they would have been a hit today...

Diner jukebox

I have many fond memories from the diner: first dates, hangouts with friends, celebratory meals, etc.

All good things, though, must come to an end. 

In Philanthropy Daily, Andrew Fowler laments the loss of his favorite diner, the Bridgeport Flyer, located in Milford, Connecticut. 

Fowler writes:

Countless hours had been spent in its booths, between nourishment after late night escapades to date nights to book club hangouts and catching up with old friends revisiting the hometown. There were hearty laughs, good cheer, life updates, deep conversations, heartbreaks, and even reconciliation.

While on the surface the loss of a diner might strike some as trivial, these establishments are so much more than greasy spoons where drunks go to eat at 3:00 AM; they are magical places that cultivate community and unforgettable memories. 

Think, too, of all of the cinema and shows that utilize the diner setting. 

Off the top of my head, I am reminded of Andrew Neiman, the fictional drummer in Whiplash, breaking up with his girlfriend, Nicole, in one of those classic diner booths.

Andrew breaks up with Nicole in Whiplash

Or how about when, in Beautiful Boy, Nic, a drug-addicted teen, pleads with his father, David, to give him money...

In Beautiful Boy, Nic asks his father for cash

On a lighter note, remember how central the diner was in the show Schitt's Creek?

Johnny and Moira at the diner in Schitt's Creek

On that latter example, the diner was pretty much the epicenter of the Schitt's Creek community. It's where decisions were made, difficult conversations were had, and neighborhood gossip was spread. 

And who can forget Twyla, the eccentric and affable waitress?

Twyla collecting dirty dishes in Schitt's Creek

In fact, the more I write this post, the more that comes to mind...

Do you recall when Alexis hosted a "singles week" at the diner?

Alexis hosts singles week at the diner

Anyway, I'm getting carried away here. You get the point: diners are essential third places. 

Speaking of third places, Joe Pitts and I wrote about dive bars as valuable community-hubs for National Review. Check that out here. 

See ya next week!