AMC A-List’s cult-like following of Gen Z movie lovers

Some L.A. singles attract potential dates with dog pics, gym mirror selfies or promises that they love “going on adventures.” Joel Lingaur’s calling card is membership to a not exactly exclusive but popular club: AMC A-List.

The movie theater subscription service has taken on a life of its own on the internet and has become a bit of a “dog whistle” on dating apps, Lingaur said.

“I really like having it on there because it shows that I’m into movies, but I don’t want to come across as a film bro,” he said. “That idea feels a little pretentious to me.”

And it works. Lingaur, a 25-year-old actor based in Culver City, said boasting his A-List status on the Hinge app acts as a conversation starter, or just helps him in “coloring the picture” of prospective dates when they have it listed on their profiles. Lots of young people, especially in L.A., have “all agreed that A-List is the quirky thing to put on your profile,” he said.

AMC A-List is the highest tier of the theater chain’s loyalty program, which allows cinephiles to see up to four movies a week for a monthly cost starting around $20. In California, where ticket prices are generally higher, members pay $27.99 a month. There isn’t an upcharge for Imax or other premium formats, one of several benefits A-Listers enjoy.

The A-List program, which launched in 2018, was born out of competition AMC was facing in the late 2010s with the short-lived industry disruptor, MoviePass, which allowed subscribers to see virtually unlimited movies at practically any theater for a low base rate. Theater chains like AMC were also struggling to slow the gradual decline in attendance, which was slipping before the COVID-19 pandemic, collapsed as theaters temporarily shut down and has yet to recover.

But A-List, which the company said has close to 1 million members, has become much more than just a subscription service.

It’s like being part of the in-crowd for many, except the only barrier to entry is a relatively low monthly fee and perhaps a propensity for movie theater popcorn.

AMC is grappling with significant financial woes — the company has nearly $4 billion in debt, reported losses of more than $200 million in the first quarter of the year and is watching its stock price sag since it became a meme stock four years ago. While it once traded at record highs during the meme-fueled rally, it’s now sitting at around $3.

Amid those difficulties, A-List is a bright spot, proving the company has an avid base of supporters and challenging notions that moviegoing will no longer be a favorite pastime for younger generations. A-Listers who have a deep enthusiasm for the brand are consistently attending showings, buying concessions and even encouraging others to enlist in the program.

There’s merchandise, both authorized and unauthorized — including unusual options like a Christmas tree topper and cross-stitch patterns — viral memes galore and a very active online community of A-Listers who flaunt the membership status like a badge of honor on dating apps, social media and in casual conversation.

“They have become a little bit of a marketing machine for us,” said Carrie Trotter, AMC’s vice president of loyalty and brand marketing.

Nicole Kidman, memes and meme stocks

While other movie chains — including Regal Cinemas, Cinemark and Alamo Drafthouse — have subscription services and loyalty programs, the AMC version has risen to a completely different level of cultural relevance. That’s in large part because of the specific quirks of AMC fandom that have given the world’s largest theater operator a cult-like following.

Much of that culture has developed thanks to actor Nicole Kidman, whose appearance in an advertisement for the chain plays before each movie and became an internet sensation. The script contains platitudes about movie magic and hits a climax with Kidman, an Academy Award winner, saying its most memorable line: “Heartbreak feels good in a place like this.”

The $25-million campaign from fall of 2021 was designed to increase theater attendance coming out of the COVID-19 pandemic, and while it may have helped revive quiet theaters, it also sparked memes, spoofs and parodies, including an SNL sketch.

Peter Gerard, a 24-year-old special education teacher and friend of Lingaur, said he is among many A-Listers who can recite the script — or as many call it, “the pledge” — from memory. In some showings with particularly enthusiastic crowds, there’s a considerable audience reaction when the ad begins. “I love it when people are in the theater and they’re saluting, and they’re clapping. I really enjoy that,” Gerard said.

The reception to the ad exceeded the “wildest dreams” of the team behind it, said Trotter, who was instrumental in its development. As for the spoofing and memeing of the 60-second spot, Trotter said she and her colleagues just “can’t ignore it.” AMC has sold merchandise with “The Pledge” inscribed on it and has played into A-Listers’ palpable enthusiasm through its own social media presence.

As theatergoing faced an existential threat during COVID, many people assumed the joy of seeing a movie in theaters would be lost on younger generations, who often turn to social media, streaming and gaming for entertainment. But the program is hugely popular among Gen Z and millennials.

Since the pandemic, Gen Z is the fastest growing audience segment within A-List, and the membership body is younger, more diverse and skews male compared to AMC’s other loyalty programs and the general moviegoing audience as a whole, the company said.

“The movie theater is one of the last places you can truly disconnect and be in the moment,” Trotter said. “With all the pressures going on, I think that that’s one reason that Gen Z has really flocked to our A-List program. It gives them permission to disconnect just for a few hours. We want to be part of that, and so we can’t help but lean into it as well.”

These young people are eager to tell you they’re enrolled in the program. Flaunting A-List status is often done in jest, but it also serves as “a genuine signifier that you care about movies,” for Adora Adeyemi, a 22-year-old A-List subscriber who works as an assistant to a literary and talent manager.

“Even back to the days of the Beatles or what have you, it’s not a new thing to want to rep what you care about,” Adeyemi said.

A-List came out of a “perfect storm,” striking at just the right moment, said Dan Murrell, a film critic and box office analyst. Murrell, an A-Lister himself, said the return-to-theaters crusade was aligned with a moment when many Gen Z folks were searching for a sense of community that they had missed out on during formative years through the pandemic.

It also came just after AMC had served as meme fodder when it became a favorite stock of social media-savvy retail investors early in 2021, caught up in the “meme stock” frenzy with GameStop and BlackBerry. The craze drove AMC’s shares up exponentially at a time when it looked like the Leawood, Kan.-based company might have been on its last legs, something many Wall Street professionals were betting on.

AMC Chief Executive Adam Aron warmly embraced the meme stock status, so when A-List and the Kidman ad started getting similar online treatment, it was only natural to welcome the attention.

“As a theatrical exhibition business, they need any kind of edge that they can get right now,” Murrell said.

‘L.A.’s a movie town’

Several A-Listers said while the service is available nationwide, the “cult” of A-List feels particularly strong in Los Angeles.

Maddie Ogden, left, with her partner Jakob Zieman, said the A-List moniker acts as a “shorthand” in L.A. for true enthusiasts.

(David Butow / For the Times)

Many A-Listers, speaking as they left or entered AMC locations across L.A., said they not only think they’re getting a great deal given the area’s high ticket prices, but they feel a strong sense of community among their fellow members. This is especially true because many in the city are either film fanatics or work in the industry.

There’s a subsection of A-Listers in L.A. — true film nerds — who attend AMC showings frequently but also patronize local independent theaters. One of those people is Ellie Bambach, who visits smaller theaters in addition to her AMC trips, which she said take place about twice weekly.

Bambach, 32, said she enjoys the New Beverly Cinema in the Fairfax District and the Vista Theatre in Los Feliz, both of which are owned by the filmmaker Quentin Tarantino. The smaller theaters give her the chance to watch the classics, and her A-List membership means she can catch new releases, especially ones she wants to watch on premium formats like with Dolby audio and visuals that are available at AMC locations.

AMC said its A-List membership body is younger, more diverse and skews male compared to the moviegoing audience as a whole.

(David Butow / For the Times)

There’s another subset of A-List that might be ultra-specific to L.A., where parking can be infamously nightmarish. A handful of A-Listers said if they are at malls like the Grove or Westfield Century City to shop or dine, they often register for one of their four weekly showings so they can enter the theater just to validate their pricey parking garage ticket, exiting without catching a flick.

But they insist they’re still in it for the movies at the end of the day. Despite all the jokes, the half-ironic but half-sincere recitation of the AMC pledge of allegiance and a recent price hike, they remain loyal customers.

“L.A.’s a movie town … so if you like movies, I don’t see how you could not have this at this point,” said Ellis Jones, a 25-year-old A-Lister. “You’re more a part of the conversation. Anyone I know who’s interested in movies has A-List. If you don’t have it, I’m like, ‘Oh, you don’t really want to see anything.’”