The Dimensions

There is a cinema in China with five dimensions.

The first three are the ones cinema has always had. The fourth is time. The fifth, added by this particular cinema, is that when a character gets wet, you get wet.

This is not a metaphor. There is a water system. There are also fans for wind, seats that vibrate during explosions, and reportedly, smells. The people who built this cinema concluded that the problem with movies was that you were not having enough of an experience while watching one. You were merely watching. The solution was to ensure that you were also damp.

The video of this cinema has circulated widely. You can see the mist. You can see the fans. You can see the seats.

The seats are empty.

(The systems are operational. The fifth dimension is functioning correctly. The audience, which was the variable the systems were designed to enhance, has not arrived.)

The traditional movie theater has been providing the same experience for one hundred years. Its proposition: sit in a dark room and watch a flat screen. Nothing vibrates. Nothing smells. You do not get wet. One hundred years. Billions of attendees.

The five-dimensional cinema has improved on this in every measurable respect. The seats are empty.

There is a lesson somewhere in this about the difference between an immersive experience and an experience people want to be immersed in. The engineers added four additional dimensions to the movie. The audience responded by not adding itself.

A sixth dimension has not been announced. The fifth is still available.