The largest theatrical chain in the world is closing locations, and if you're surprised, you haven't been paying attention.

AMC Theatres confirmed this week that it plans to shutter multiple locations "in the coming months," citing the usual suspects: declining attendance, streaming competition, and the vague specter of "changing consumer behavior." The company didn't specify which theaters are closing or how many jobs will be lost, because why make it easy for journalists?

But here's the real story: theatrical exhibition is in a death spiral, and nobody seems interested in stopping it.

AMC isn't closing theaters because of one bad quarter. It's closing them because the model doesn't work anymore. Ticket prices keep rising—$18 for a standard evening show in major markets, more if you want IMAX or Dolby—while the product gets worse. Studios release fewer films theatrically, hold back their best stuff for streaming, and expect exhibitors to survive on Madame Web and the occasional Christopher Nolan event.

The pandemic accelerated trends that were already happening. Theaters closed for a year, studios discovered they could make billions on streaming, and audiences learned they didn't actually need the theatrical experience for most movies. Sure, people showed up for Barbenheimer and Top Gun: Maverick—but those are exceptions that prove the rule. The mid-budget drama, the adult comedy, the genre film that used to pay the bills? Dead or streaming.

AMC, specifically, is a case study in financial mismanagement. The company took on $5 billion in debt to acquire competitors and upgrade theaters, betting that premium formats (reclining seats! Reserved seating! Dolby Atmos!) would justify higher prices and bring audiences back. It worked for a while! Then the pandemic hit, attendance cratered, and AMC found itself servicing debt on theaters that were either closed or operating at a fraction of capacity.

The meme stock phenomenon in 2021—when Reddit traders briefly made AMC a Wall Street darling—gave the company a lifeline by letting it raise capital at inflated prices. But that money is gone now, burned through on debt payments and operational costs, and AMC is back to the fundamental problem: not enough people want to go to the movies.

Here's what nobody wants to admit: we have too many theaters. America built exhibition capacity for an era when going to the movies was the default Friday night activity. Now it's one option among infinite streaming choices, and often not the most appealing one. Why pay $50 for tickets, parking, and overpriced snacks when you can watch The Brutalist at home in three months?

The theaters that survive will be either premium experiences—IMAX, Dolby Cinema, Alamo Drafthouse-style dine-in concepts—or budget second-run houses serving communities that can't afford $18 tickets. Everything in between gets squeezed out.

AMC's closures will hurt. Theater workers lose jobs. Communities lose gathering spaces. Film lovers lose screens. But the industry created this crisis through decades of bad decisions: raising prices, tolerating terrible projection and sound, prioritizing concessions over experience, and treating audiences like captive revenue streams instead of people who deserve better.

In Hollywood, nobody knows anything. But in exhibition, we know this: if you don't give people a reason to leave their couch, they won't. And Ghostbusters 8 isn't it.