The lights dim. The screen flickers to life. Somewhere in the dark, a stranger laughs at the same moment you do. These moments have been happening in movie theaters for over a century, and if the people who study and work in film in Seattle are right, it’s not going anywhere.
A spring 2026 study by Fandango surveyed more than 5,000 moviegoers and found that Gen Z is now the nation’s most frequent moviegoing generation. 87% of Gen Z reported seeing at least one film in theaters over the past 12 months, surpassing millennials at 82%, Gen X at 70% and baby boomers at 58%. Gen Z also averages roughly seven movie theater visits a year and spends more per trip on concessions and premium formats, like IMAX, than any other age group. Overall general attendance still lags roughly 20% behind pre-pandemic levels, and for an industry still trying to close that gap, Gen Z’s momentum matters.
Alex Johnston, associate professor and chair of the film and media department at Seattle University, sees the trend as both a post-pandemic correction and a sign of something more permanent. He believes that young people are rebuilding the social rituals that COVID stripped away, and the appetite for tangible, singular experiences runs deeper than nostalgia.
“The movie theater is one of the few places you can go where people are not on their phones,” Johnston said. “During my classes, I try to never really assign screenings outside of class, because it won’t be the same as if we [were]all in class together.”
Fandango data show that where millennials tend to treat moviegoing as a personal escape, Gen Z sees it primarily as a social activity. Streaming, for all its convenience, cannot provide a space to be with other people.
For Gracie Cole, co-president of the SU Filmmakers, the pull is rooted in something her generation lost during the pandemic. The years of isolation created a hunger for shared physical experience that goes beyond any particular movie.
“Gen Z misses the pre-COVID experience,” Cole said. “We are just craving that social experience.”
Cole’s standout of the past year was Marty Supreme, which she caught at SIFF Uptown, and she has also been revisiting contemporary classics on the big screen, most recently the 1999 film, All About My Mother, at Tomorrow Theater in Portland.
Later this year, she is looking forward to A24’s newest horror picture, Backrooms.
The desire for shared social experiences plays out at Tasveer Film Center, too. The South Asian cinema and nonprofit cultural hub in Columbia City opened in 2013, and is finding its audience lingering long after the credits roll.
Theater Manager Lisa Kois described a growing dissatisfaction with the isolation of at-home streaming; a sense that people have been alone with their screens for long enough and are ready to watch something together again.
“You see people who know each other meeting up unexpectedly. They end up sitting together to watch a movie they didn’t even know they were both coming to see,” Kois said. “There is something amazing about people feeling good just by unknowingly crossing paths with friends in that space.”
Gen Z is the most digitally connected generation in history, and that has not hurt their relationship with cinema. Platforms like TikTok and Letterboxd both serve as platforms for film discovery, recommendation and discussion. These apps have created a culture where movies are debated and anticipated in ways that used to require a film club or a college course.
Rachel Shimabukuro, co-president of SU Filmmakers, mentioned that social media shapes her film habits daily. TikTok surfaces influential slideshow recommendations, and ultimately sends her toward a theater to see what all the hype is about rather than away from one. She described the experience of watching in a proper cinema as something digital engagement cannot replace, established in the specific physical conditions of the room itself.
“You’re in a dark room, and the sound is how the film intended you to listen to it, rather than a speaker on your phone,” Shimabukuro said. “You have a space where a lot of people are watching the same thing and feeling the same feelings at the same time.”
The online conversation around film has also expanded the range of what Gen Z watches.
Letterboxd, in particular, has driven younger audiences towards unfamiliar titles and older films they missed the first time around. The platform’s most-logged titles skew heavily towards modern classics such as Interstellar, Dead Poets Society, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Whiplash.
These films predate most of Gen Z’s moviegoing years, but are being discovered and watched in large numbers. The fondness and rediscovery being built online is genuine, and increasingly is sending people to independent theaters looking for films that big multiplexes will not show.
Seattle’s independent cinema scene occupies a specific role that no streaming platform and no multiplex can fill. Places like SIFF Cinema and Tasveer Film Center bring films to the city that would otherwise never screen here. International work, documentary, animation and films from communities underrepresented in mainstream distribution get their moment to shine in these spaces.
For Gen Z audiences moving away from franchise blockbusters and towards independent storytelling, these spots have become essential. Beth Barrett, artistic director for SIFF Cinema, has watched younger audiences grow into one of the theater’s most consistent demographics over the past decade.
“The laughs are funnier and the jump scares are scarier,” Barrett said. “It is something that requires us to be present for.”
Beyond the screen, independent theaters function as community infrastructure.
Sumedh Supe, experience manager at Tasveer Film Center, depicted how the social interaction after the screening often becomes as important as the screening itself.
A recent run of Studio Ghibli film Kiki’s Delivery Service captured that dynamic well. Younger moviegoers who had never seen it in theaters were watching alongside people who remembered its original release, and the generational gap only added to chatter. Audiences spilled out into conversation with staff and other moviegoers, then kept going.
“People stay after, and we ask them how the movie was, and they get into deep conversation with us,” Supe said. “They will talk to us and then go to Molly Moon’s next door and carry on their discussion of the movie.”
Despite this widespread phenomenon, not every studio has read the room.
The case of Avatar: Aang, The Last Airbender became a focal point this year of everything the industry gets wrong when it treats streaming as a default rather than a choice.
The animated continuation of Nickelodeon’s beloved original series was originally scheduled for a theatrical release in October 2025. After two delays, Paramount scrapped the theatrical run entirely in December 2025, redirecting the film to an exclusive Paramount+ premiere on Oct. 9, 2026. The film’s own director, Lauren Montgomery, pushed back publicly, saying the movie deserves to be seen on the big screen.
Paramount is currently attempting to acquire Warner Brothers, with the deal awaiting federal approval. This potential merger has left many concerned that future Warner Brothers releases will go straight to streaming rather than receiving full theatrical releases. In April 2026, the film leaked online months ahead of its release, pulling in an estimated 10 million unauthorized viewers. This is a number that emphasized how much anticipation existed, and how the studio failed to channel it.
For incoming law student Rayyan Salam, the decision cost the film something that cannot be recovered.
“A theatrical release creates a culturally relevant moment and streaming takes that away from us. Avatar’s October release was something I was looking forward to for years as a long time lover of the show, now I’m gutted that I can’t see my favorite childhood characters play out on the big screen,” Salam said.
Despite the challenges with streaming and troubles that in-person screenings have been facing, the people who work closest to Seattle’s film community are not pessimistic about where in-person screening culture is heading. Barrett, who has spent her career at SIFF making the case for communal film culture, said she is not worried about the future of moviegoing.
“I hope it looks very similar to today, a communal space to gather and see films on the big screen, the way that filmmakers intended,” Barrett said. “It has been this way for over 100 years, and will continue to be for 100 more.”
Johnston is equally optimistic about the generation now filling the seats. He sees in his students not just moviegoers but future filmmakers, critics and advocates.
Johnston, who recently called 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple a transcendent film, is already looking ahead to Boots Riley’s I Love Boosters and Zach Cregger’s take on Resident Evil as the year continues.
“Every generation shapes what is going to come,” Johnston said. “My hope is that young people continue the ability to find themselves in films and that will continue.”
