07 Mar Reels On Wheels: The Philadelphia Moviegoing Experience For Disabled Film Lovers

BY M. SHANE JENKINS

Being disabled is like playing life on “hard mode.” As someone who uses a wheelchair, it’s often impossible to visit friends’ houses and there are many bars and restaurants I can’t go to since my stroke because of the steps leading into their spaces. There’s also the chronically broken sidewalks found anywhere near a tree, and all those “quaint” and “historic” cobblestones that make it hard to navigate in Old City. I love Philly, but between the cars inevitably parked in front of the curbside ramps and the Grand Canyon-esque potholes and perilous sinkholes in the asphalt, it’s not exactly the most wheelchair-friendly place.

One of the few public spaces where disabled people like me are on equal footing (equal wheeling?) with our able-bodied friends and partners is the movie theater. Most theaters are wheelchair friendly and easily accessible to those with physical disabilities, and have the benefit of offering food, entertainment, and camaraderie all under one roof. 

However, in actuality, being a cinemagoer in a wheelchair often comes with unexpected challenges. One recent incident I experienced occurred at the Studio Movie Grill in Upper Darby during a cold winter day. My partner Alex and I were all set to watch Godzilla Minus One, with tickets in hand and me wearing my Godzilla shirt. But the elevator was broken, so we weren’t able to go up to the theater area. The manager sent a disinterested young employee to offer us a refund, and when the manager herself finally came down to speak to me directly, she told me that she couldn’t give us free passes to come back and see the movie when the elevator was fixed because, “They don’t let me have any passes. Sorry.” My months of anticipation for a new Japanese Godzilla film on the big screen were derailed by a broken elevator. My disappointment and frustration were compounded by a lack of empathy from the manager and staff about our ruined plans.

Anyone with a physical disability can tell you that it’s no small feat getting dressed and heading out into the world, especially in inclement winter weather. To have gone through the trouble and expense of leaving the house on a chilly December night and finding the rare Uber Wheelchair Accessible Van, only to be dismissively turned away by theater workers, felt like a punch to the gut. I love moviegoing and just want to enjoy Miyazaki, Mean Girls, and Mothra on a big screen like everybody else is able to do.

I used to be a theater manager myself and understand the challenges of supervising young employees who aren’t being paid enough to be invested in the job. And I don’t fault the manager for the broken elevator; most of the theaters in the city have seen better days and are trying to make do with outdated equipment and facilities. But I am asking for a little empathy and consideration when there are these inevitable failures. 

It’s important for theater management to occasionally review their facilities for accessibility challenges. Theater restrooms are frequent problem areas for disabled folks and they are often overlooked by the managers and staff. For instance, one of the theaters I regularly visit had a broken and feces-stained toilet seat in the handicapped stall for more than a year. I don’t understand how it was allowed to be so bad for so long but, to their credit, when I brought the matter to their attention they replaced the disgusting seat and gave me some free passes.

There are a couple of Philadelphia theaters that have wheelchair accessible signs on what seem to be regular-sized stalls (certainly not the 60 inch width required by the Americans with Disabilities Act) with grab bars attached to the walls. The ADA stipulates that accessible stalls must have enough room for a wheelchair to turn around inside, but that is impossible in these narrow spaces. Both the PFS Bourse and the East theaters have these pseudo-accessible stalls that have absolutely no room to maneuver a wheelchair and are next-to-impossible for me to use. When I visit these theaters I make sure I go to an authentically accessible restroom beforehand and hope I don’t need to pee during the movie. These theaters have had this problem for a long time and it seems strange to me that it wasn’t addressed during the Philadelphia Film Society’s acquisition of the Bourse or during the extended time that the East was closed over the past few years. (Neither Studio Movie Grill nor the Philadelphia Film Society responded to my emails and phone calls by the time of publication.)

As an avid moviegoer, I implore theater managers and owners to be a little more proactive in monitoring and maintaining the accessibility of your facilities. Disabled people also love going to the cinema and these seemingly small problems, which would be trivial to most able-bodied guests, can ruin our entire night. I know that running a movie theater can often be a thankless job and I appreciate everything you do!

*Featured Image: Image of Shane and his partner Alex at the 40th Street Cinemark. Courtesy of the author.

M. Shane Jenkins is a children’s novelist and musician, as well as a disability and LGBTQ advocate. He lives in West Philadelphia and has a BA in film from Temple University.