Once Upon a Time in a Cinema (2026) Review

There truly is something special about a cinema- or at least, there used to be. In times gone by, the local movie house wasn’t just a place to watch films: it was a communal space where strangers sat shoulder to shoulder, becoming a temporary family in the dark. Entire towns gathered to feel the same heartbeat for a few fleeting hours; for that brief span, everybody- no matter how different- was on the same wavelength, transfixed by the magic-lantern glow of film. 

Cinemas were fulcrums around which communities turned. Many films have made this their central conceit, elegies that turn the movie house itself into a vessel of memory. From the tender nostalgia of ‘Cinema Paradiso’, to the meditative melancholy of ‘Goodbye, Dragon Inn,’ these pictures mourn the fading glow of the theatre while celebrating the lives shaped within, around and by it.

David Gleeson’s ‘Once Upon a Time in a Cinema’ is the latest to revisit the cinema as a place where personal history and collective experience blur. A well-written, heartwarming comic-drama, it follows Earl Clancy, the owner of a once-thriving rural picture house, as he struggles to keep the peace on a chaotic Friday night. From burst pipes, to wild rats and everything in-between, can Earl hold his crumbling kingdom together long enough to make it to the last reel?

Nostalgic and absorbing, it is a joy from start to finish, with Gleeson wisely keeping the story intimate. Though the film is populated by eccentric customers, malfunctioning infrastructure and an escalating series of disasters, a sadness underpins the chaos. Earl is not simply trying to survive one catastrophic Friday night; he is fighting to preserve a way of life already slipping into obsolescence. He doesn’t just love film; he recognises the power it holds in his community. Set against the slow encroachment of VHS and commercial modernity, the film is a lament for communal moviegoing without collapsing into easy nostalgia or self-pity.

What gives the story its warmth is the authenticity of its characters. Earl is written with a believable mixture of pride, stubbornness and vulnerability, while the supporting players feel less like quirky caricatures than familiar faces you might genuinely encounter in a small-town. Gleeson’s dialogue carries an easy, affectionate wit, and, though the final act occasionally edges toward mushiness, the film never loses its emotional sincerity. Like the cinema at its centre- battered, chaotic, but full of life- ‘Once Upon a Time in a Cinema’ remains deeply charming throughout.

Visually, Gleeson brings a lively attentiveness to the environment. Hyun De Grande’s cinematography is fluid and alert, carrying viewers through the cinema’s chaos with a restless energy, mirroring Earl’s own unravelling night. There’s a playful visual language at work too: fleeting film-reel effects occasionally flicker across the screen, not as empty stylistic flourishes but as affectionate nods to the analogue world the film clearly cherishes.

Tracey O'Hanlon’s production design is equally rich and immersive. Shot in an old cinema in Limerick, the film makes full use of its setting- striking posters, plush red‑velvet seating and ornate furnishings creating a tactile sense of place, an authenticity that digital recreations rarely achieve. Additionally, Grania Preston’s costume design resists the usual temptation toward neon excess or cartoonish retro signalling. Instead, the clothing feels grounded and unfussy, evoking the 1980s without overstating it. Further, Bertrand Conard and John Murphy’s editing keeps proceedings running at a good pace, while the score subtly underscores the film’s nostalgia without overwhelming it.

As Earl Clancy, Colin Morgan delivers a richly layered portrayal of weary determination and fragile authority. He moves with an easy command between comedy and quiet vulnerability, capturing both the chaos of the night around him and the exhaustion beneath it. Calam Lynch does similarly fine work as Earl’s brother, Gerald, while India Mullen and Niamh Cusack add warmth and personality as two of the cinema’s long-suffering staff. Stanley Townsend is also effective as the quietly imposing businessman intent on purchasing the cinema.

In many respects, David Gleeson’s ‘Once Upon a Time in a Cinema’ shares a kinship with Kōki Mitani’s fantastic ‘Welcome Back, Mr. McDonald’; both tender love letters to a form of media caught in an era of transformation, and to the fragile, messy human spaces that form around them. What unites them is not just nostalgia, but an affection for the chaos of collective experience.

Well-written, visually evocative and strongly acted, the film captures, with sincerity and humour, the texture of a space and a way of life that feels both familiar and increasingly rare. It may not be perfect, but cinema never truly is. Rather, it is full of life, of memory and of shared moments that briefly hold back time in the dark. Martin Scorsese once said “movies are the memories of our lifetime. We need to keep them alive.” Earl Clancy would undoubtedly agree.