As Berlin begins another outdoor kino season and we assemble the deckchairs and sip the spritzes in courtyards, parks and rooftops in pursuit of the perfect open-air screening, I’ve found myself thinking less about film discourse and more about what’s here. The cinemas quietly waiting on our doorsteps, and the peculiar magic of Berlin’s neighbourhood kinos: they’ve inspired me to step back from looking into film discourse and to look inside the city instead.
For all Berlin’s appetite for spectacle, one of its most enduring pleasures is how local its film culture is.
For all Berlin’s appetite for spectacle, one of its most enduring pleasures is how local its film culture is. Cinema here is embedded in neighbourhood life in a way that feels singular to this city: moviegoing taken not as an occasion, but as part of the weekly rhythm. My own local Casablanca Kino is tiny, understated and unpretentious. It has exactly the kind of atmosphere one wants from a neighbourhood cinema. It’s intimate without trying to be and it has unfussy programming, including new national and international releases and repertory screenings. Earlier this year, it was part of Berlinale Goes Kiez, the festival’s initiative to spotlight neighbourhood cinemas across the city: a fitting inclusion and a reminder that some of Berlin’s best film experiences happen nowhere near Potsdamer Platz.
What I’ve always liked most about Berlin’s cinema culture is that most districts offer their own versions. Neukölln has a vast array of independent kinos. Wolf and IL KINO are some of the city’s most reliably good independent cinemas: small, sharp, thoughtfully programmed. Nearby, Moviemento still carries its historical, faded grandeur, all old-Berlin cinephile romance and slightly worn interiors. Further north, Kino Central and ACUD have a slightly scrappier, more overtly arthouse appeal and host plenty of weekly local events. Babylon remains perhaps the city’s most visually impressive cinema, overwhelming in its grandeur, while Tilsiter Lichtspiele is untouched by time. And then there’s Sputnik Kino, tucked above Hasenheide in Kreuzberg: punk, compact, faintly hidden away and somehow still feels like it’s a place one discovers, rather than simply visits. Then there’s Kreuzberg’s FSK Kino: a collectively run cinema that feels quintessentially true to the city’s more idealistic instincts. Perhaps that’s what makes Berlin’s local kinos so appealing: they resist the flattening sameness of multiplex culture, without ever becoming overly reverent. You can still view the mainstream and Hollywood fare you need there, which is what we want. No one likes a film snob. They’re neither luxury experiences nor exercises in nostalgia; they’re just simply good cinemas that are well programmed, well loved and embedded in the texture of everyday life. In a city often mythologised for other things, Berlin’s cinemas offer one of its better versions of communal life. There are worse ways to spend an evening than sitting in a small room with strangers, watching something excellent unfold before stepping back out into the Berlin night.
If you liked this article, check out our guide to open-air cinemas in Berlin.
