Independent cinemas are breaking the boundaries of the big screen, becoming hotbeds of community cohesion, debate, learning and urban regeneration. Jonathan Lee leaves the phone streamers at home and sets out on a tour of Devon’s perfectly formed picture houses

Totnes cinema. (Image: Jonathan Lee)

Curiouser and curiouser indeed: I step into Totnes Cinema through a giant keyhole-shaped doorway – inspired by Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland – to be greeted by a mannequin sporting a pink wig. I pull open heavy double doors to discover a cavernous space of velvet chairs and time-worn plasterwork, topped by a glittering chandelier.

Today the air is filled with the clickety-clack of backgammon, but you’re just as likely to hear live jazz, the brisk rattle of cocktail shakers or director Q&As.

Totnes cinema. Totnes cinema. (Image: Jonathan Lee)

‘The proposals were to make it more than just a cinema,’ explains Will Johnson, co-founder with Jane Hughes. ‘Our ambition was for it to be the best-loved cinema in the world.’

Will shut up shop at his London screening room and ploughed in his pension to buy the building, once home to the Romany cinema, which closed in 1964. A crowdfunder and membership scheme followed, and this thriving 88-seater venue and café celebrates its 10th birthday this year.

On screen there’s a mix of arthouse, classics, documentaries, baby-friendly features and new releases. ‘Warmth and friendships and community,’ adds Will. ‘That’s what sustains it.’

Blue Walnut Cafe Bar and Cinema. Blue Walnut Cafe Bar and Cinema. (Image: Jonathan Lee)

Down the road in Torquay lies the Blue Walnut Café Bar and Cinema, a tiny 23-seater that has made its name with its Crap Film Club – a celebration of toe-curlingly awful productions – open mic nights and tarot readings.

I arrive just before a U3A screening to meet Jamie Goode, new co-owner with Marisa Harding. ‘It’s a unique business,’ explains Jamie. ‘It’s just so welcoming. And it’s small so you have to talk to the person next to you.’

Future plans include opening up the garden and launching kid-friendly Saturday morning fixtures. Front of house manager Josh Harding chips in: ‘Your kids can watch an animation while you have eggs benedict and a bellini.’

Paignton Picture HousePaignton Picture House (Image: Jonathan Lee)

The 1914 Paignton Picture House closed its doors in 1999, but an £8m restoration will afford a glorious insight into the earliest days of cinema.

Due to open in October, Agatha Christie’s favourite picture house is one of oldest surviving purpose-built cinemas in Europe, fittingly found within a puff of a steam railway station.

I don a hard hat to tour the Grade II*-listed ‘free Baroque’ structure and spot the influence of grand theatre design at every turn: there’s a tiered circle and three private boxes, barrel-vaulted ceiling, art nouveau stained glass, fruit and foliage plaster mouldings and mosaic floors.

‘We’re creating a cultural asset,’ trustee Julian Carnell tells me, outlining plans for an outreach programme and workshops alongside blockbuster and indie screenings.

‘This is very much about regeneration,’ adds Julian, explaining the strategy to connect town and beach, and boost employment and tourism. ‘The cinema is at the centre of all that.’

Bovey Paradiso Arts. Bovey Paradiso Arts. (Image: Jonathan Lee)

Half an hour north lies Bovey Paradiso Arts, its 16th-century home formerly the King of Prussia pub. This Bovey Tracey venue currently shows films to small audiences on a pull-down screen but a new 90-seater auditorium will open in spring 2027 for screenings and live shows.

Plymouth Arts Centre. Plymouth Arts Centre. (Image: Jonathan Lee)

I zip to Plymouth Arts Cinema, opened in Arts University Plymouth in 2019, to find creativity abounds: students mill in the foyer and I dip into next door’s Mirror gallery to check out work from South West artists.

The film programme features productions from Japan, Palestine, Iceland and beyond; ‘knitflix’ screenings where you can knit or crochet, and Q&As with Jo in the Water activist Jo Bateman and Mark Jenkin of Rose of Nevada fame.

‘The beauty of cinema is that people can come together and talk about it,’ says director and film programmer Anna Navas. ‘It really stimulates thought and debate.’

Local films are crowd-pullers – a screening of Jill Craigie’s 1946 Plymouth drama-documentary The Way We Live was a speedy sell-out – and Silver Screen workshops are seeing older Plymothians making shorts in just one day.

Engaging diverse audiences is key, explains Charlotte McGuinness, marketing and communications manager: ‘Cinema can cut across barriers... You get this incredible energy when you realise how powerful cinema can be; it’s connecting people.’

Studio 74. Studio 74. (Image: Jonathan Lee)

Studio 74, found in the Exeter Phoenix arts centre, is propelled by similarly progressive brio: 40 per cent of its film-goers are under 25, shoestring indies and major releases are given equal billing and the climate crisis is front of mind, with solar panels powering 4,200 screenings and counting.

When I visit there’s rainbow cake on the bar, a café festooned with cheery bunting, Arte Povera sculpture in the galleries and young musicians letting rip in the main auditorium. ‘It’s built upon anarchy and chaos,’ film programmer Claire Horrocks tells me. ‘We all have the same goal: bringing culture to Exeter in a way that’s fun, challenging, inspiring and accessible.’

Alongside world cinema, documentaries, talks and screened exhibitions, Studio 74 cultivates new talent, commissioning six films a year and showcasing local and international work in its Two Short Nights festival.

Barn Cinema. Barn Cinema. (Image: Jonathan Lee)

At Dartington’s Barn Cinema, the building is the star: vast oak trusses span the medieval structure, which was converted to a theatre by Bauhaus founder Walter Gropius in the 1930s.

Films have screened here since the 1970s, and a 2025 upgrade ushered in a top-notch Christie laser projector and 7.1 Dolby surround sound.

Strong draws are social justice and ecology strands, live broadcasts from the Royal Opera House and National Theatre, and archive features such as Peter Nicholson’s 2025 All Things to All People, which celebrates Dartington’s pioneering heritage. ‘Films that can provoke discussion and broaden horizons,’ explains programmer Ali Donkin.

Neo Cinema Neo Cinema (Image: Jonathan Lee)

On the north coast, a trek along Woolacombe’s golden sands is ideally followed by a restorative pitstop at Neo Cinema.

Built as part of a gleaming new £1.4m wing at the Woolacombe Bay Hotel, this 2019 cinema resembles a high-end screening room in a private members’ club: the auditorium offers 30 velvet seats with hardwood drinks trays, while the adjoining Art Deco-style cocktail bar serves proper popcorn and a fine Old Fashioned.

‘The whole feel is a cinema experience “back in the day”,’ explains head housekeeper Robert Vargau. Neo shows the latest releases in 4k and is open to the public.

Lynton cinema. Lynton cinema. (Image: Jonathan Lee)

I finish my tour with a trip back in time courtesy of Bill Pryor’s Lynton Cinema.

Bill’s entertainment experience spans 70 years; he cut his teeth touring a mobile cinema around Kent town halls with 16mm Debrie projectors before working in countless theatres and picture houses.

Bill built Lynton Cinema in a Grade II-listed former Methodist chapel, fitting it out with finds from a fast-disappearing world: 68 velvet seats from Burton on Trent’s Ritz, a ticket machine from Minehead’s Regal and a category display easel from King’s in Ramsgate.

‘What I wanted to create was something out of the 1950s, to put back a proper cinema,’ says Bill, recalling his determination to re-open a permanent screen in town after a 40-year hiatus.

‘Everybody thought we were totally mad,’ he recalls, but local builders worked gratis, funds poured in via grants, local councils and private donors and doors opened in 2001.

Films run every day bar Christmas day and literary adaptions are favoured. ‘I’ve put something in the town and I would like to see it stay,’ adds Bill.

So why devote your life to cinema, I ask. ‘It’s a complete life isn’t it? It’s very personal; we know people by name.’.