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A good night out? Multiplex cinemas assites of embodied leisurePhil Hubbard aa Department of Geography, Loughborough University,Loughborough, Leicestershire LE11 3TU, UK. E-mail:Version of record first published: 01 Dec 2010.

To cite this article: Phil Hubbard (2003): A good night out? Multiplex cinemas as sites of embodiedleisure, Leisure Studies, 22:3, 255-272

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DOI: 10.1080/026143603200075461

Leisure Studies 22 (July 2003) 255–272

A good night out? Multiplex cinemas assites of embodied leisure

PHIL HUBBARD

Department of Geography, Loughborough University, Loughborough, Leicestershire LE11 3TU,UK. E-mail: P.J.Hubbard@lboro.ac.uk

In this paper, the reasons for the current popularity of multiplex cinemas as sites of night-time leisure and recreation in the UK is explored. By definition, such cinemas offer achoice of films and viewing times, are usually located in a peripheral urban location andprovide free and plentiful parking. Drawing on interviews conducted in Leicester (UK), itis argued that multiplexes are popular with particular audiences because they provide aform of ‘going out’ that facilitates the maintenance of bodily comfort and ontologicalsecurity. The paper accordingly concludes that we can only understand the appeal ofmultiplex cinemas by considering the embodied geographies of cinema going – a leisurepractice that involves the consumption of place as well as the visual consumption offilm.

Introduction

Given that retailing is currently experiencing sluggish growth, and that themanufacturing industry continues to struggle, it is not surprising that manycommentators are identifying the leisure industries as the primary engine of urbaneconomic growth in the UK. Evidence to support this assertion is widespread: forexample, spending on leisure goods and services increased by one-third between1995 and 2000 (reaching an estimated £154 billion per annum), making leisurethe single biggest financial outgoing for most families (HMSO, 2001). Despitetendencies to flexibilization in working hours, the majority of this leisure spendoccurs at night, away from the routines of the 9 to 5. One-third of thisexpenditure is on in-home entertainment, with the increasing availability ofsatellite television, home computers, videos and DVD technology providing newopportunities for domestic leisure. Consequently, much research has explored the‘moral economies’ of household consumption, with major foci includingtelevision viewing (e.g., Morley, 1994), Internet surfing (Miller and Slater, 2000)and video-gaming (Silverstone and Hirsh, 1992). In contrast, comparatively littlehas been written about ‘going out’ at night, despite the fact that many localauthorities have undertaken policies designed to boost their claim to be ‘24-hourcities’ (Lovatt, 1997). This re-branding has typically involved the promotion ofthe city centre as an evening leisure venue, with the primary goal being to attractconsumers into city-centre pubs and clubs, especially at weekends (Hollands,1995). Despite an absence of reliable data on the impacts of these strategies, some

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commentators have suggested that we are seeing the emergence of a dual or two-speed city where the city centre at night is dominated by affluent and mobileconsumers, marginalizing the carless, teenagers and the elderly (Thomas andBromley, 2000; Chatterton and Hollands, 2002). For some, this raises questionsabout the sustainability of the ‘24-hour city’ concept as a central plank ofcontemporary leisure policy; for others, it poses more serious questions aboutsocial order, with Hobbs et al. (2000, p. 706) suggesting that the city at nightoffers no sanctuary from the class, gender and racial inequalities that ‘infest thedaylight hours’.

While this ‘dual city’ thesis begins to indicate something of the geographies ofnightlife, the assertion that we are witnessing a polarization of urban nightlifearguably fails to acknowledge the diversity of ways people engage with the city atnight. Indeed, the notion that there is a stark choice between in-home leisure andcity centre venues devoted to a ‘pub and club’ mentality glosses over the sheerrange of sites that have transformed the evening leisure landscape of Westerncities over the last two decades. One such site is the multiplex cinema. Bydefinition, multiplexes are purpose-built cinemas offering a wide choice ofviewing across at least five screens (and typically 10 to 15). Most featureSurround-Sound systems (360° digital sound), wide screens, a range of food andconfectionery, spacious seating, air conditioning, and free/easy parking. Manyalso incorporate themed restaurants, cafes, shops and amusement arcades (andare therefore indicative of the quasification that is fast-blurring the distinctionsbetween different forms of urban leisure – see Beardsworth and Bryman, 2000).While the first multiplex in the UK (The Point at Milton Keynes) was opened in1985, it was not until the 1990s that the major cinema circuits began to channelthe majority of their investment into multiplexes, with the result that by May2002 there were an estimated 226 multiplex cinemas in the UK, accounting fornearly two-thirds of all cinema screens and three-quarters of all cinemaadmissions in just one-third of all cinema sites (Mintel, 2002). Significantly, thevast majority are located out-of-town, taking their place alongside the plethora ofretail parks, malls, science parks and heritage centres that typically cluster on theedge of major urban centres. In general then, town centre cinemas have sufferedfrom the arrival of the multiplex, with the number of sites in this sector fallingsteadily from 629 in 1997 to less than 553 in 2002 (Mintel, 2002).

Given cinema attendances currently stand at a 30-year high, the significance ofthe multiplex as a site of urban leisure demands to be examined, yet to date littlehas been written about this by those working in film or media studies (but seeHarbord, 2002; Ravenscroft et al., 2001). As such, this paper reports on researchthat sought to explore the popularity of the multiplex among different consumergroups in Leicester (UK). In one sense, the project was about why certainaudiences visited multiplexes, but methodologically, this translated into anexamination of how people were using them – i.e., an examination of theembodied experiences and practices of going to the cinema. This approach wasinformed by the idea that particular leisure settings are popular with those thatuse them because they are associated with a pleasurable series of bodily sensations(which, in the case of the multiplex, include the visual pleasures of watching thefilm itself, but extend to take in a variety of other felt and sensed experiences). In

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the remainder of this paper data from the Leicester case study is drawn on todescribe the bodily attraction of multiplexes for those who frequent them. Tobegin with, however, it is necessary to explain why a focus on embodiment isnecessary if one wants to understand the attraction of the multiplex as a leisuresetting.

Leisure as embodied practice

In many ways, it seems self-evident that any understanding of leisure must takeinto account the limits, capacities and meanings of the body. For example, it isobvious that an individual’s ability to participate in different sporting activitiesmay be constrained or enabled by their corporeality, with lack of stature, bulk,dexterity, muscularity, or flexibility potentially limiting participation (andsuccess) in different sports and physical activities. At the same time, it is apparentthat the inscription of certain types of body with gendered, classed, aged andsexed meanings similarly encourages or discourages participation in specificforms of leisure (so that, for instance, some bodies may be regarded as ‘out ofplace’ in certain sporting spaces, irrespective of physical competence). And yet itis only in the last decade or so that leisure research has explicitly considered thesocial meanings of the body alongside bio-medical understandings of corporeality,acknowledging that the social and biological entwine to shape leisure practice.Edensor’s (2000) analysis of rural rambling is exemplary in this regard, suggestingthat walking in the countryside involves a reflexive (urban) body overcoming arange of physical, symbolic and imaginary obstacles: here, the rural isencountered physically as well as mentally, and is not just an object for visualcontemplation. As in the work of Crouch (2000), Eichberg (1998) and Urry(2001), the suggestion here is that the leisured body is a contested site, subject tosocial controls but simultaneously expressive and resistive.

Rejecting the traditional conception of a centred cognitive being, suchcorporeal understandings interpret leisure settings as more than contextual: theyare instead regarded as material spaces that the body works and negotiates. Thisembodied perspective stresses that individuals are only able to express themselvesin leisure spaces through their body – corporeal physicality representing the basisof ‘being in the world’:

We use our bodies for grounding personal identity in ourselves and recognising it inothers. We use other bodies as points of reference in relating to other material things.We use our bodies for the assignment of all sorts of roles, tasks, duties and strategies.We use our bodies for practical action. (Harre, 1994, p. 257)

Accordingly, it is argued that we need to theorise leisure settings as spaces thatindividuals engage with through both mind and body. However, Amin andThrift (2002, p. 85) note an important caveat here, arguing that while the bodyremains the chief source of agency in the world, few bodily actions actuallyrequire motive (i.e., attribution of intention, justification or pre-mediation). Forthem, it is important to realize that our material surroundings provoke bodilyactions that, 95% of the time at least, occur in the ‘cognitive unconscious’.Simplifying to the extreme, this implies many leisure practices are intuitive – for

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example, we might cycle through the countryside without remembering how wegot from A to B, or play sports without thinking about what we are doing (orwhy). Action in leisure spaces is therefore rarely conscious, and is oftenimprovised. Extending this, we can detail a wide repertoire of intuitive bodilypractices that enable people to participate in leisure: walking, pulling, dancing,pushing, gesturing, clapping, jumping, climbing, sitting and so on. Amin andThrift (2002) go so far as to suggest this improvisational action includes talk:not just as representational praxis, but as a way of making sense of the world(through the process of making suppositions about our circumstances – seeLaurier, 2001).

Many of these ideas about the embodied experience of the world are not new,and were presaged in the work of authors as varied as Mauss, Benjamin,Wittgenstein, Merleau-Ponty, Heidegger and Bourdieu (for an overview, seeHubbard et al., 2002). Yet despite this renewed interest in the phenomenology ofthe body, most leisure research remains predicated on the use of research methodsthat cannot adequately capture embodied experiences of space. The exceptionsare informed by emerging debates in geography over the need to engage with layknowledges (Crouch, 2001) as well as the turn to non-representational theoriesthat emphasise doing over discourse:

The emphasis is on practices that cannot adequately be spoken of, that words cannotcapture, that texts cannot convey – on forms of experience and movement that are notonly or never cognitive. Instead of theoretically representing the world, ‘non-representational theory’ is concerned with the ways in which subjects know the worldwithout knowing it, the ‘inarticulate understanding’ or ‘practical intelligibility’ of an‘unformulated practical grasp of the world’. (Crewe, 2000, p. 655)

The privileging of ‘ordinary’ people’s knowledge is crucial here, with the politicsof non-representational theory stressing the importance of ‘appreciating, andvalorising, the skills and knowledges’ of embodied beings that ‘have been soconsistently devalorised by contemplative forms of life, thus underlining that theirstake in the world is just as great as the stake of those who are paid to commentupon it’ (Thrift, 1997, p. 126). Or, as Laurier (2001) has put it, it is about valuingpeople’s everyday competencies rather than the world-views of theory-driven,professional researchers.

This shift from theory to practice is decisive as it demands that researchersconsider leisure practices as embodied and felt, not just imagined and represented.This necessitates an exploration of the sensuous and poetic dimensions ofembodiment – an endeavour that may require the development of new researchmethods given the limits of standardised research techniques (particularlyquestionnaires) for elucidating pleasures and pains that may escape rationalexplanation. Yet at the same time, it requires a consideration of the way thatpractices are negotiated in relation to representations, given that discourses imbueleisure practices with meanings that are both spoken and felt. Indeed, Crouch(2001, p. 65) insists we cannot treat the materiality of leisure as somehowseparate from its representation, as they are ‘inter-penetrated in the process ofdoing leisure’. Malbon’s (1999) ethnography of nightlife underlines this point,showing that clubbing is scripted through the discourses of music promoters, DJs

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and a global dance industry as well as performed through rituals of dance thatcreate an intense and emotionally-charged leisure experience. Here, he alerts tothe bodily practices and proficiencies (dancing, adornment, poise etc.) thatbequeath clubs their particular character, and remarks on the sensual geographiesthat are created as clubbers explore the possibilities of their own (and others’)bodies, underlining the fact that leisure is simultaneously bodily and social, aboutindividual as well as collective experiences.

In the light of such arguments, it is suggested that we cannot hope to grasp theappeal of multiplexes solely by exploring the social meanings that attach to them(e.g., the idea they are ‘family entertainment centres’ for young and old alike).Additionally, we need to explore how these settings are embodied throughpractice – after all, places may be scripted, but our performances do not alwaysfollow the script. Seeking to offer a corrective to those accounts of cinemagoingthat are preoccupied with visuality and the gaze (e.g., Mayne, 1993), this researchproject thus began from the standpoint that cinema going is about theconsumption of place (e.g., the cinema) as much as it is about the consumption offilm (see Hubbard, 2002). This means that the ability of specific cinemas (e.g.,multiplexes, art-house or single-screen city centre cinemas) to appeal to particularaudiences needs to be understood not only in terms of the films they show, but alsothe (often improvised and unconscious) forms of practice played out within thespaces of the auditorium, foyer and so on. Moreover, it suggests that anyunderstanding of cinemagoing must consider the embodied experiences oftravelling to the cinema, the use of attendant facilities and the spaces around thecinema, all of which are part of the cinemagoing experience. This implies the needfor a carefully grounded analysis of cinemagoing (after all, leisure practices onlymatter in relation to the places in which they are embedded). To these ends, an in-depth study was performed in Leicester (UK), a city of 340,000 inhabitantsboasting six cinemas: a city arts cinema (The Phoenix), three cinemas specializingin Asian-language film (one of these a part-time facility), a city centre Odeonmultiplex and an ‘out-of-town’ Warner Village multiplex. While no claims aremade for Leicester’s representativeness (it is a city characterized by high ethnicdiversity, a large student population and pockets of poverty), it is suggested thatmany of the practices of cinema-going reported in this paper may be repeated,albeit in different ways, in multiplex cinemas the length and breadth of the UK.

The ‘bodily attraction’ of the multiplex

Extensive data on cinemagoing in Leicester was obtained through a questionnairesurvey distributed in six neighbourhoods deemed to be broadly representative ofthe city’s population. These areas were also selected as they were located atdifferent distances from the city centre; something that has been hypothesised asimportant in determining the relative appeal of in-town and out-of-town cinemas(Mintel, 1999). Four hundred and fifty-nine questionnaires (out of 1200) werereturned, providing a valuable insight into variations in cinemagoing for peoplefrom different areas and social groups. From these returns, five representativehouseholds from each neighbourhood were selected to participate in semi-structured interviews of between 40 minutes and 2 hours duration. Although

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respondents were keen to talk about their emotional response to particular films,these interviews focused on embodied experiences of cinemagoing by askinginterviewees to describe their last trip to the cinema (i.e., to detail how theyreached the cinema, their behaviour before and after the film, their experience inthe auditorium etc.). Given the aims of this paper, and the fact that the results ofthe extensive survey have been discussed elsewhere (Hubbard, 2002), theremainder of this paper draws exclusively on these interviews to elucidate theembodied experiences associated with watching films at multiplex cinemas. WhileLeicester has two of these (the Odeon and the Warner Village cinema), the rest ofthis paper focuses on the 12-screen Warner Village cinema, located some fourmiles to the south west of Leicester city centre on the Meridian leisure park(opened 1997), which incorporates four restaurants, a fitness centre and abowling centre. According to the survey results, this cinema attracts twice theadmissions per screen than any city centre cinema, thus replicating national trendswhereby out-of-town multiplex cinemas can be expected to generate up to 360admissions per seat each year, or about one a day, while cinemas of one, two orthree screens average half that number or fewer (King Sturge, 2000). Moreover,the fact the Warner Village is an out-of-town multiplex (while the Odeonmultiplex is a city centre cinema) means it is more typical of the type of multiplexthat has been developed in the last decade. Hence, in the remainder of this paper,a number of themes concerning the use of the Warner Village cinema will beidentified in an attempt to highlight some of the reasons that multiplex cinemasare increasingly popular venues for night-time leisure (being regarded by manyconsumers as preferable to alternative, city centre venues). Throughout, extractsfrom household interviews and vignettes of trips to the cinema are used toillustrate these themes (the names of the respondents have been changed in allcases).

Bodyspace: the importance of comfort and cleanlinessFor all the criticism of multiplex cinemas as soulless and cold by those fighting forthe conservation of old-style ‘picture palaces’ (e.g., Gray, 1996), the dominantmotif respondents used to describe the ambience of the multiplex was that ofcomfort. This notion of bodily comfort was evoked through descriptions of theWarner Village cinema by those who frequented it as, variously, ‘clean, warm andcomfortable’ (Fiona, 2001), ‘modern and up-to-date’ (Mark, 2001), ‘spacious’(Peter, 2001) and ‘comfy’ (Rosemary, 2001). Specific mention was made of thecleanliness of the foyer and immediate areas, the relaxed decor of the auditoria,and, above all else, the comfort offered by the seats. The latter was emphasized bynearly all multiplex users, including many who made favourable comparisonsbetween the amount of leg room provided by the Warner Village cinema and thatoffered elsewhere: ‘I didn’t realize how important good seats are until I went to acinema when I was on holiday last year . . . the film was 2.5 hours long, but it feltmuch longer’ (Cybil, 2001). The fact that video and DVD technologies havepresented multiple opportunities for people to enjoy films in the comfort of theirown homes has clearly heightened the importance some place on comfortableseating (as well as clean and modern decor). As one filmgoer explained:

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It’s not like the old days – and I’m talking about the 1950s, and even earlier – whereyou had no choice . . . If you wanted to see a film, you had to go to the cinema that wasshowing it, so you’d have to go to the Savoy for one film, or the Essoldo for another,and some of them was real flea pits, rats and all! So, given the choice between an oldfashioned flea pit and waiting ‘til a film comes out on video, I’d soonest wait. I mean,why would I take my lady friend out to a draughty old cinema when I could invite hereround for a video, cook a meal and that. But the Warners, well that’s different . . . it’sa good night out. (Clive, 2001)

Multiplex users also made favourable comparisons with other cinemas in thecontemporary city, explaining that they used the Warner multiplex because theyassociated other cinemas with a more negative range of bodily sensations. Forexample, one respondent described the Odeon thus:

It’s got this huge foyer with stupid different queues for everything, it’s just totallysoulless. It’s got bright lights and it’s just really big and it’s got sticky floors because ofall the popcorn machines. It’s really gross. Every time I’ve been there there’s beensomething sticky on the floor. I guess it’s not their fault, it’s the customer’s fault becausethey spilt it. (Sarah, 2001)

Another respondent claimed that the arts cinema (The Phoenix) was ‘dark’ and‘smoky’, (despite the fact that the venue has a non-smoking policy), while severaldescribed Leicester’s Bollywood cinemas as ‘decrepit’ (Ferzana, 2001) and ‘ratherrun-down’ (Rita, 2001), making no distinction between the city-centre AbbeyRoad cinema and the suburban Capital and Piccadilly cinemas. However, it isimportant to note that those who frequented these cinemas countered this,suggesting that the Warner Village cinema was ‘noisy’ and ‘full of litter’ (Pam,2001) and had ‘an overpowering smell of popcorn and hotdogs’ (Catherine,2001).

None the less, the tendency for those who frequented the Warner Villagecinema to describe other cinemas using metaphors of dirt points to the importanceof some of the deep-held anxieties that consumers have about despoilment of thebody and self, with the decision to avoid particular cinemas in favour of otherstied into a complex range of feelings and fears about the boundaries of the body.Sibley (1995) has scrutinized the nature of such desires and disgusts in hisexploration of geographies of exclusion, arguing that urges to prevent boundaryviolation and the defilement of body and self inevitably feed on stereotypicalimages of repulsion which become mapped onto particular social and culturalphenomena. Hence, following Douglas’ (1966, p. 41) argument that ‘dirt ismatter out of place’, Sibley suggests that the avoidance of spaces regarded as dirtyis a logical outcome of the deep-seated urge to purify. In this sense, it appears thatmultiplexes are popular with specific audiences because they allow them todevelop a clear sense of ontological security, knowing that they can enjoy anevening out without the boundaries of their body being brought into question bypotential pollutants. To such consumers, the multiplex appears to offer a relaxingsetting where they are insulated from such pollutants and where the body is ableto feel comfortable in both a physiological and psychological sense. Of course, thedesign of the multiplex is not incidental in this process, with the cultivation of anatmosphere of Disney-esque family consumption relying on the incorporation of

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a colourful and familiar set of cultural icons within a setting that is intended toprovide a comfortable and pleasant viewing environment.

Spaces of the body: maintaining social distanceWhile all respondents spoke of cinemagoing as a social activity, in the sense thatit brought them into contact with others, the interviews suggest that one of thekey social roles of multiplex cinemas appears to be offering a form of socialitythat is essentially ‘light’. This does not imply leisure in these spaces is passive, aspeople perform their presence in these spaces through embodied practices thatinvolve an active engagement with their surroundings (e.g., parking their car,choosing a parking space, queuing for a ticket, ordering food, watching a film,playing a videogame and so on). However, it does suggest the form of socialinteraction characteristic of multiplex cinemas is increasingly limited, in thatother people are engaged with only visually. Associated with this is a concomitantmaintenance of a ‘social distance’ between consumers, with few cinemagoersseeking to speak with other film-goers or impinge on their ‘personal space’ (seeHolloway and Hubbard, 2001, p. 61). In many ways, this light sociality isencouraged by the design of multiplex cinemas. To illustrate this we mightconsider multiplex foyers: traditionally, cinemas provided large foyers wherepeople could mingle after films to discuss the film they had just seen (or wereabout to see), or make plans to go on elsewhere (Gray, 1996). Today, however, thefoyer of multiplex cinemas is dedicated to the selling of concessions, and while itmay be themed around popular and readily-identifiable cultural symbols (seeabove), it is not designed to encourage interaction between people. Moreover,with the multi-screening of films, the foyer has taken on the characteristics of a‘space of flow’ rather than a public place: a space carefully designed to ready theaudience for the visual pleasures of cinema (as well as reminding them of thepossibilities of allying this with the ‘guilty’ consumption of popcorn, soft drinksand sweets), but not designed to facilitate rest or dwelling. Hence, the act ofqueuing for tickets may be the only occasion when unknown bodies are broughtinto proximity, a seeming source of anxiety for some:

I don’t like the Odeon very much . . . because, I don’t know if you’ve ever been into it,there’s just like this sort of circle thing in the middle and nobody really knows wherethey are or what queue they’re in, whereas at the Warners it’s a bit different because youwalk in and there’s like a flat sort of, a few booths, four booths or something andthere’s a definite queuing system to get into the booths, so that’s one thing that’s quitegood – knowing where you’re going, and how to pay and where to pay. (Fiona,2001)

Anxieties about queuing were reiterated by other respondents, with Traceydetailing her concerns that her children got bored waiting in line, and that theircomplaints disturbed others in the queue. For such respondents, the foyer was notregarded as a social meeting space, but as a space to pass through as quickly andeasily as possible: there was little that encouraged them to dwell.

The multiplex foyer may thus be described as a quintessentially sociofugalsetting (see Holloway and Hubbard, 2001, p. 58) in the sense that it discouragesthe disruption of the imaginary ‘space bubble’ that surrounds us: a bubble that we

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only allow to be violated by those who are known to us. Moreover, this sociofugalconfiguration of bodies and objects extends to spaces beyond the foyer. Forexample, it is apparent that crowd participation, talking and other forms of socialinteraction with strangers are strictly curtailed in multiplex cinema auditoria bysocial convention (in contradistinction to some of the Bollywood cinemas inLeicester, where respondents reported a more participatory mode of viewinginvolving social interaction between members of the audience – see also Srinivas,2002). For some respondents, the fact that the Warner Village cinema hadmultiple small auditoria encouraged a more reserved and individualized mode ofspectatorship:

I went to see Billy Elliot at the Warners . . . It’s comfortable there, and I quite like thefact that there’s often not that many people in the cinema, it’s a little bit more intimate.They’re not the vast screens in those vast theatres that they used to be . . . a smallerroom leaves less chance of people interrupting things . . . You wouldn’t want to watchBilly Elliot with people’s mobile phones going off in the poignant bits, after all. (Ian,2001).

Another obvious symptom of this was the tendency for consumers to choose seatsaway from others. Given most films in Britain are shown in auditoria whereoccupancy rates are less than 30% at any given time (King Sturge, 2000), it isusually not difficult to maintain a degree of personal space by sitting away from

Vignette One

Fiona, a midwife practitioner in her 20s lives with her partner, a policeman,in Clarendon Park, a gentrified inner suburb a mile to the south of Leicestercity centre. Because they often have to work evening and night shifts at shortnotice, they rarely go out with friends in the evening. However, at the startof the week her partner returned from work earlier than expected – 6.30 –and suggested going out the cinema. They check Teletext to see what’s on,decide which film to watch, get ready to go out in just a few minutes, thendrive out to the cinema, which takes them ten minutes. When they arrivethey buy tickets for The Mummy Returns, which is largely his choice as sheforced him to go and see The Beach last time they went, and he hated that.They then go over to Franky and Benny’s restaurant, which they have beento before, and have a fairly rushed pizza as the film is due to start in 40minutes. Fiona buys an ice cream before the film, even though she’s not reallyhungry, because she thinks it’s an important part of the cinema-goingexperience. Her partner thinks this is a waste of money, but as they’re bothable to get in half-price if he shows his warrant card, he doesn’t moan toomuch. The cinema is three-quarters empty, so they are able to get a row tothemselves, not too close to the screen. After the film, which both thoughtinferior to the original, they drive home, park outside their house and thenwalk down to the pub on the corner for last orders, where they bump intosome friends from across the street.

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others (whether this is a conscious choice or not), and few multiplex visitorsreported auditoria being overcrowded, save for a few Saturday night screenings,when the cinema make take on a somewhat different ambience. As a consequence,it is rare for visitors to cinemas to interact socially with others beyond theindividuals who they travelled to the cinema with – though some combine a tripto the multiplex with a visit to a site where they know they will meet with friendsand familiar strangers – see Vignette One.

For such reasons, watching a film at a multiplex cannot be regarded as a formof mass consumption in any real sense; even though the experience of beingphysically close to people we are familiar with is clearly an important part of thecinema experience for many, watching a film at the multiplex appears anultimately individualised form of consumption (cf. Bauman, 2000, onshopping).

The body in space: the mobile consumerThis concern with maintaining the boundaries of the body and self was echoed inmultiplex users’ stress on the importance of automobility – which can be definedas the normalisation of patterns of mobility associated with the motor car(Beckmann, 2001). To date, research on leisure and tourism has somewhatignored the key significance of automobility, which creates distinct forms ofdwelling, travelling and socializing. Urry (2001) has recently highlighted thisomission, describing automobility as the dominant culture that organizes andlegitimates socialities across different genders, classes and ages. Following Urry, itappears important to consider the way that automobility shapes involvement inthe night-time economy, necessitating thinking about the embodied experiences ofdriving through the city:

We normally go to the Warner Village at the Meridian . . . I don’t know why we gothere rather than the Odeon, there’s no big difference in terms of price or anything, butwe just tend to go there. It feels like we’re going out a bit more I think. It’s a bit furtheraway. (Fiona, 2001)

Hence, to understand the popularity of out of town leisure, it appears we need tointerrogate the pleasures and dangers of driving, which necessitates a considera-tion of the way that the symbolic meanings of the motor car create idealisednotions that we can exist as autonomous, individual body-selves, independentfrom and cocooned from contact with troublesome Others. Freidberg (2002)accordingly describes the automobile as a ‘viewing machine’ that facilitates amotorized form of flanerie where the driver is sealed off from the public and thestreet, yet is able to experience the heightened sense of urban mobility and fluiditytraditionally associated with the ‘streetwise’ male pedestrian.

For many, driving in the city at night thus becomes a pleasurable experience,bequeathing a sense of freedom while dispensing with the need to deal with theterrors of street-life. A lengthy drive to an out-of-town multiplex may then be seenas preferable to a short walk into town (or, for that matter, even a short drive intotown). Many respondents accordingly explained their decision to drive to an out-of-town cinema was based on the fact that it entailed an easy drive ‘out’ of the city

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to a one-stop leisure location, as opposed to a more stressful (but shorter) journeyinto town:

I’ve never been to the Odeon . . . it’s closer to where I live than the Warner Village [but]it doesn’t look attractive . . . I’m sure it’s got a big car park but I’ve never seen it. Youget the feeling that there’s nowhere to park round there whereas [the] Meridian is a nicebig open space, or you get that feeling, anyway. There’s lots of other things there aswell, there’s places you can eat if you want to. (Mark, 2001)

Several respondents who assumed primary responsibility for childcare underlinedthe particular appeal of the Warner Village as an easily accessible leisurelocation:

It’s further than the Odeon, but you never can be sure about the traffic when you gointo town, you have to time it right. The Warner Village is further but there’s alwaysplenty of parking and it’s a more predictable journey, you know? It’s like, you go intoLeicester to see a film or go to the Haymarket [theatre] you have to fight the traffic, finda parking space and so on. Going to Meridian you can time it much better, which isreally important if you’ve got kids to look after. (Tracey, 2001).

Of course, we should note that this convenience is denied to those who cannotafford cars, with those who stated they would normally walk when they go out inthe evening emphasizing the lengthy detours they had to make to avoid areas theywere fearful of. Likewise, many of those who used public transport explained thatthey were anxious about taking certain bus routes at night, and would avoid

Vignette Two

Ferzana is a 26-year-old who works part-time at a data-inputting centre incentral Leicester while her husband works in a jewellers. She’s lived in theBelgrave area, a relatively deprived area just to the north of Leicester citycentre for 7 years. As she has two young children, she says she is rarely ableto go out with her husband in the evening, as babysitters are too expensive.However, on a Sunday once a month she meets up with one of her old friendsfrom College to go to see a film while her husband looks after the kids.Ferzana always picks her friend up in her car, and then drives to the cinema,a journey of about 15 minutes through fairly light traffic. They usually bookin advance even though it’s rarely busy on Sunday evening. This time itsChocolat, based on a book that both of them have recently read. They arriveshortly before the film is due to start, park immediately outside the cinema,pick up their tickets and go straight in. They don’t buy any food or drinks,as both have eaten before they went out. The film is finished by 9, but thenFerzana will go back to her friend’s house where they have a drink and talkabout the film. Both agree it was a bit disappointing because it didn’t matchup to their expectations having read the book. They then start talking aboutwhat they might see next, and Ferzana’s friend says that Captain Corelli’sMandolin should be out by then. As they’ve both read that as well, theydecide they should see that next.

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journeys that involved visiting Leicester’s central bus station at night. In contrast,few car-drivers reported any anxiety about driving through any particular areas ofthe city at night, emphasising the enhanced mobility that is associated with carownership. For such reasons, it is perhaps unsurprising that 92% of the surveyrespondents arrived at the Warner Village cinema by car, reinforcing theassumption that peripheral cinemas and leisure parks are frequented by car-borne‘parkaholics’ whose leisure routines are structured around sites that are easilyaccessible by car (Vignette Two).

In this case, Ferzana benefits from being able to use (what she described as) ‘herhusband’s car’ at weekends, allowing her to go to a site that remained inaccessibleduring the week. While such findings are indicative of the exclusion of non-carowners from peripheral cinemas, it is perhaps dangerous to suggest that all car-owners find driving in the city at night a pleasurable or liberating experience. Forexample, given that media coverage of car-jacking or road rage often suggests thatwomen and the elderly are particularly vulnerable to attack, we might note theprecautions that some drivers feel obliged to take when in the city at night:

Probably quite stupidly, I feel quite safe within my car . . . but I often lock the doorswhen I’m driving on my own at night, or when I drive home from [work] . . . it’s notparticularly nice round Leicester at night, I’d always lock my doors, but otherwise itdoesn’t bother me. (Fiona, 2001)

Other respondents reported anxiety about leaving their car in some parts of thecity at night, but rarely leisure parks. The latter were seen as ‘secure’ byFerzana:

Meridian Park is much safer for parking than in Leicester. There always seem to bepeople around, security guards, you know, CCTV and that. Our car was broken intoonce, outside the old Odeon, but the Meridian and the Showcase [Nottingham], placeslike that, you never hear of any trouble. (Ferzana, 2001 – see also Vignette Two)

The view that out-of-town parking is inherently safer than city centre parking wasalso noted by Thomas and Bromley (2000), who found that 89% of night-timeusers of Swansea were uneasy about the safety of their cars. For some, fear of carcrime is as pressing a concern as their own personal safety, confirming the ideathat the car is often viewed as an extension of Self (Beckmann, 2001). The threatthat this personal space may be broken into is thus an important influence onmany car owners’ leisure routines. Consequently, the Warner Village multiplexwas most likely to be visited by those in the extensive survey claiming that safeparking was significant in shaping their choice of venue, and although the WarnerVillage cinema was not the closest cinema for any of the respondents, itapparently attracted twice as many admissions per screen than any city centrecinema.

Different bodies, different spaces?It is here that fear emerges as a significant factor shaping rituals of evening leisure.Indeed, household interviews suggested that the use of particular leisure sites canonly really be understood in relation to the wider myths of the city at night, a citywhere fears of Otherness are intensified and embodied (Schlor, 1998). As many

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commentators have recently stressed, fear is unavoidably implicated in theproduction of social difference, with the strategies of avoidance that peoplepractice in the ordinary settings of their everyday life creating boundaries betweenSelf and Other that, in turn, create geographies of inclusion/exclusion (see Hobbset al., 2000; Sparks et al., 2001). This implies that people’s desire to seekontological security and avoid threatening people and places is a key influence onleisure practices.

It is here that we reach an important contradiction in contemporary practicesof night-time leisure: those who frequent multiplexes are engaged in a form of‘going out’ that does away with the need to deal with difference. Indeed,Hannigan’s (1998) ideas of ‘riskless risk’ seem particularly useful in explaining thepopularity of multiplexes with consumers. Drawing on the work of Maffesoli(1992), he suggests a general tendency in post-modern society is for people to seekforms of sociality that offer little risk. As in Bauman’s (1997) work, this concernwith minimizing risk is taken to be symptomatic of a society where consumptioninvolves a volatile and capricious search for identity rather than representing thesimple act of fulfilling physiological (‘stomach’) needs. Hence, Hannigan (1998,p. 73) highlights the ever-increasing tendency for people to seek leisure that offersescape from everyday routines while providing ‘recurrence of reassurance’. AsGlennie and Thrift (1992) argue, this affective ambience is provided by spaces ofconsumption where people can interact ‘lightly’ without too much riding on theoutcome. Leisure may then be a means to self-actualization – a reconfirmation ofself through encounters with others – but the rising popularity of the multiplexsuggests that this occurs in settings where the boundaries of the body are notbrought into question (see also Sibley, 1995).

The corollary of this is that consumers tend to frequent places where they feel‘in place’. All those interviewed who visited the Warner Village multiplex wereasked what type of people used it, with the most common responses being ‘peoplelike us’, ‘everyday people’ or ‘Leicester people’:

It just looks like a real average bunch of people – a bit of everything . . . Is it somethingI’ve thought about? No, not really . . . You feel fairly comfortable mixing with thecrowd at the cinema. (Peter, 2001).

Similarly, as Tracey put it: ‘I’ve never really noticed who goes, they just look likeme: Normal people going in to watch a film’. Interestingly, she also claimed neverto have seen any non-white consumers at this site (contrary to the survey data).Conversely, social difference was associated with sites that were infrequentlyvisited or avoided (cf. Jackson and Holbrook, 1995). Fiona, for example,stressed:

I’ve been to the Odeon a few times but you get too many kids hanging around, beingnoisy, skateboarding and that. And smoking too, in the foyer and once in the cinema. . . they didn’t stop when I asked. I get asthma so it really bugged me. You just don’tget that type of crowd at the Meridian . . . I guess it’s a personal space thing, but youdon’t want to sit next to a cocky little kid when you go out. (Fiona, 2001)

Likewise, Ferzana stated ‘If you go to the Odeon, there’s very big groups and veryladdish, rowdy’. But while some avoid city centre spaces that they felt were

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frequented by younger people, the survey suggested that multiplexes also appealto a fairly youthful audience, namely those in the 16–34 age group. For suchconsumers, out-of-town leisure parks offer a leisure setting that provides afavourable contrast to the city centre for going out in the week:

You don’t have to dress up to go the cinema like you would if you go into town . . . itis a night out but it’s not like a, you know, ‘big’ night out where you might go to fewbars, a club. You dress down, not up . . . And it’s not like you’re going to spend 40 or50 pounds, like you might at the weekend . . . and you’re not going to have a bighangover the next day. (Fiona, 2001)

For the consumers cited here, multiplex cinemas seemed to occupy a distinctiveniche in leisure routines, allowing them to socialize with family or friends onweek-day nights in an environment where they could be relaxed and ‘off guard’.Unlike a ‘night out’ in Leicester city centre, which was likely to be spontaneous inmany respects, most visiting out-of-town facilities have a set idea of what theywere going to do, at what time.

Against this, those in the 16–34 age group that were co-habiting or had youngchildren were also avid visitors to multiplexes, but here ‘out of town’ leisuresupplanted rather than complemented use of the city centre (cf. Mintel, 1999).Members of this group reported a preference for out-of-town as opposed to citycentre venues at night, particularly at the weekend, when many felt that Leicesterwas given over to a ‘pub and club’ culture, was overly crowded and feltdangerous. Interestingly, many of those who reported avoiding the city centre atthe weekend had often been frequent users of the city centre a few years earlier,but claimed variously that they were ‘getting too old for that kind of thing’(Ferzana, 2001) or simply that the city centre had become more threatening:

The clubs I use to go to are still there but they’ve changed names, and, you just felt saferthen than now, and it was better. The nightclubs were better, you had better times thanyou do now, because you’ve got to watch yourself all the while when you’re out.(Tracey, 2001)

For such consumers, a visit to an out-of-town leisure park might become their‘big’ night out, an occasion reserved for the weekend and typically involving ameal and a drink in an adjacent restaurant before a visit to the cinema, or perhapsa take-away afterwards (see Vignette Three).

Here, it is particularly interesting that multiplexes are sold on the idea that theyoffer ‘family’ entertainment. Certainly, the notion that these new spaces offer asafe alternative for parents seeking to amuse their children is one that developersseem keen to exploit through the provision of child-oriented facilities. Analysis ofsurvey returns did suggest that multiplexes are more likely to be frequented bythose who currently have children or may have children in the near future (i.e., are16–34 and in a relationship) than by post-family or non-family households.However, the survey also showed that families rarely go en masse to multiplexesand it is more likely that one parent or guardian takes a child or group of childrento a multiplex during the day (a theme underlined in Vignette Three); whereasafter 6pm over 90% of trips to multiplexes involved a couple or group of adults.As such, references to multiplexes as ‘family’ spaces seems to be a shorthand for

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the kind of ambience that developers are trying to create; an emphasis on ‘familyvalues’ creating the right place image for attracting certain types of consumers,even if, in practice, relatively few people watch a film as a ‘family’ (see Aitken,1998, on family spaces). Consequently, it seems that multiplexes effectively linkthe desires and fantasies of ‘family’ life to a specific (and sanitised) leisure spacewhich offers predictable and unthreatening distractions in an environment that issimilarly predictable – something particularly evident in the themed environmentof multiplex cinemas.

Conclusion

Given this paper has detailed a Leicester case study in an attempt to highlight arange of broader issues, it is clearly difficult to generalize as to the reasons thatconsumers in other towns and cities might visit multiplexes. None the less, thispaper has argued that the current popularity of the multiplex as a site of eveningleisure can only be understood by considering both their distinctive ambience aswell as the type and range of films they show. Focusing on the former, it has beensuggested that the characteristic features of multiplex cinemas (in terms of design,layout, location, marketing and clientele) bequeath them an ambience that hasappeal for many consumers in Leicester. Hence, while many of those who frequent‘arts’ and ‘Bollywood’ cinemas may regard multiplexes as cold, impersonal orsoulless (see Jankovich and Faire, 2003), this paper has suggested that multiplexusers typically regard them as comfortable spaces, where this notion describesboth the bodily sensation of being warm, cushioned and relaxed, as well as thesense in which people feel secure and ‘in place’. Crucial here is the idea that theyallow people to develop a clear sense of ontological security, knowing they will beable to enjoy an evening out without their sense of self being challenged or

Vignette Three

Tracey is a childminder in her 30s from Thurnby Lodge, an area of mixedcouncil and private housing located 4 miles to the east of Leicester citycentre. Tracey has children aged 4 and 9 years, and her husband is a butcherworking some 15 miles away. Because her parents live on the other side ofthe estate, she can find a babysitter quite easily, and goes for a meal with herhusband at a pub in a nearby village once a week. But the last time she wentout was on a Saturday, when her husband finishes work at lunchtime andthey can go out with their children. They drive out to the cinema, together,with Tracey taking the children to see the four o’clock screening of Spy Kidswhile her husband drives off to the B&Q superstore half a mile down theroad. She says she always takes sweets and drinks for the children as they’retoo expensive at the cinema, but the children will pester otherwise. Ninetyminutes later, she meets up with her husband in the bar of the Megabowl,where her husband has been watching the football results. They play twogames of bowling, and then go to McDonalds’, returning home by 9.15.

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undermined (Sibley, 1995). In this sense, it is possible to argue that the appeal ofmultiplexes as leisure sites is both mental and physical, as they facilitate a rangeof embodied pleasures (e.g., watching a film, eating food, driving a car) whilsteliminating the need for body-subjects to deal with difference (even thoughdifference may be present). On this basis, it is possible to argue that multiplexesare both represented and experienced as an essentially unthreatening, predictableand domesticated leisure setting: as Harbord (2002) stresses, multiplex culturearguably has more in common with forms of domestic consumption (such ashome computing or television viewing) than it does with traditional cultures ofpublic film exhibition.

More generally, such conclusions raise interesting questions about the changinglandscape of urban leisure. In some accounts, the notion of the ‘dual’ city (usuallyused to refer to polarizations in terms of land use, labour and housing markets)is seen to be extending to leisure and entertainment opportunities as corporateleisure investment drives a wedge between those mainstream, higher spending,consumption groups who frequent city centre venues and those consumers(especially the young, elderly and less affluent) who may be marginalized fromsuch sites and hence reliant on in-home entertainment (see Chatterton andHollands, 2002). However, this paper suggests that talk of the dual or ‘two speed’city simplifies a leisure landscape where there is not a stark choice between towncentres and in-home leisure, but where there are multiple sites catering to differentconsumer tastes (and pockets). Multiplex cinemas provide one such site, andwhen located on the periphery of the city – away from the traditional hub ofurban life – they are able to offer a comfortable leisure experience for those forwhom the city centre has become a space to avoid at night. This paper hasaccordingly shown that the multiplex has appeal for a wide variety of groups, oneof the major contradictions here being that – for all the emphasis on a middle-class Disney-esque ‘family values’ – the range of consumers at a multiplex in termsof age, class and ethnicity may be even more varied than those found in the citycentre. Rather than positing the co-existence of one form of leisure on theperiphery of the city, and another in the city centre, this paper thus concludes bysuggesting that the contemporary city is a patchwork of different leisure spaces,each of which is characterised by a distinctive set of embodied practices ratherthan distinctive audiences.

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