My Favorite Cinema
The other night over dinner, a friend asked why I love lesser-known films so much. Her favorites are American action blockbusters like Die Hard, The Transporter, and the high-octane The Fast and the Furious series with Vin Diesel, Paul Walker, and Michelle Rodriguez, while my patchy watchlist includes titles like Nightcrawler, Melancholia, and My Small Land. My quick, perhaps rash, answer was that I enjoy movies that lodge in my memory, that I might still recall years later because they moved me, fascinated me, or taught me something. Maybe it’s simply that I was in love with someone in the cast. I chase the afterglow: A scene that lingers, a line that won’t fade, a feeling that taps me on the shoulder after the credits roll.
In the shadow of the multiplexes in Kumamoto, somewhere between Toho, Aeon, and SMT, which lure crowds with hits like Jurassic World, Under Ninja, and the latest Demon Slayer, plus popcorn, tortilla chips, and syrupy cola in huge cups, stands my favorite cinema: The Denkikan. Its dark walls, hung with obscure posters, host local gems and far-flung wonders, whose popularity sits somewhere between celery salad, cloudy sunsets, and computers running Linux as a daily driver. How many people can say they saw Oasis, The Jazz Loft, or All We Imagine as Light in a theater? A haven where the projector hums, the aisles creak, and I catch whispers of other lives. A schedule like a treasure map inviting me to trust the curators and go somewhere unexpected.
With a freshly brewed coffee on one side and a companion on the other, I let the Denkikan carry me into unfamiliar worlds. On these long screenings, there are often no more than five fellow travelers, scattered among the seats. Of course, I value the blockbuster experience too. Surrendering to wild action with sweet-and-salty snacks is as valid as falling for small secrets. Yet there is special magic when, in my little favorite theater, I watch Japanese indie films like Rainy Blue, At the Bench, and Linda Linda Linda. Those are the films that make my heart beat faster, the ones that hum behind ordinary days, turn the walk home into an epilogue, and remind me that quiet stories can claim space in a life.