OAKHURST, Calif. — Once in a while, Hollywood comes through this gateway to Yosemite National Park. People still talk about the time Ron Howard accidentally left one of his children (briefly) in a doughnut shop.
But Oakhurst's main connection to the movies has been the local Met Cinema, scene of countless first dates and family outings. When the Met closed abruptly in November — "Skyfall Coming Soon" still up on the marquee — it meant that those living in this mountain town and neighboring communities would have to drive at least 70 miles to Fresno to see James Bond on the big screen.
Now for the plot twist:
Three childhood friends believe they've developed a subscription plan that could save not only the Met but also struggling small-town theaters across the country.
The deadline to find out if they can make it work here is Dec. 31. If enough people enroll, the trio will be able to sign a lease and reopen the moviehouse. If not, the landlord plans to look for other tenants.
James Nelson, 30, a life coach who defines his specialty as "figuring out how to make the impossible possible," was driving back from a wealth-training seminar when his wife told him about the theater going under.
Nelson promptly turned to Matt Sconce, 31, a local church youth leader and filmmaker who got his start by winning an "American Idol" music video contest in 2004. (Sconce also works as a magician, selling DVDs of trick instruction to help supplement the family income.)
The pair then called Keith Walker, 32, a San Francisco software engineer for Klout, which ranks people according to their social media influence. Walker got in his car and started driving.
Soon the three were clustered around a computer — just like when they were kids and built a robot that was so amazing none of the adults believed it was their work.
"It felt exactly like the old days," Walker said. "Except we're taller."
They ran models of Nelson's subscription-based theater idea, showing that to break even they would need 3,000 people, or 15% of the mountain communities, to sign up. For $19.95 per month, a member would be able to see each movie one time and buy individual tickets for friends. Non-members could buy a $16 day pass.
While researching the theater business, Nelson learned that studios are transitioning to digital distribution. Thousands of independent theaters that couldn't afford equipment upgrades have closed over the last 10 years, according to industry experts. Hundreds more — which, like the Met, still show print films — remain on the brink. The subscription business model could pay for the new equipment.
"We realized this could be our big idea, the one we've been waiting for," Nelson said. "Saving small-town movies."
Walker asked for a leave of absence to work on the project. When it was turned down, he quit his job.
Sconce began marketing the "Be a Met Hero" program, including dressing his two children as superheroes and having them hold signs along the highway.
"We like to be a little corny," Nelson said.
"We don't 'like to be.' We just are," Sconce corrected.
"Yes," Walker agreed. "We have no choice."
The tricky part of the membership-model calculation is that box-office totals are based on ticket sales, and distribution deals for a movie include a percentage of each ticket sold. But Met members would scan magnetic cards to record attendance totals for each film.
In the end, the success of the venture may come down to whether major studios are willing to negotiate contracts without traditional tickets being sold. But first, success depends on signing up members.
Sconce, Nelson and Walker have spoken to the local rotary clubs. They performed Handel's Hallelujah Chorus while pitching their idea at the Yosemite High Winter Concert at Bass Lake. And Walker was a hit at the Sierra Springs Village Mobile Home Park's Christmas party.
"He was adorable. So gung-ho," said Cindy Karr, 65. "Everybody was in favor and signed up. It's important to get out and see new releases."
In the first two days of the campaign, 500 people joined, many of them affixing "I'm a Met Hero" stickers to their car bumpers. At last count, 2,633 had committed. No one will be charged unless the plan is a go.
Before the Met went dark last month, moviegoers tended to come early to chat with neighbors, hush up during the show and hang out in the popcorn-scented lobby afterward to critique what they'd seen.
That's what makes movie night in small towns something to be saved, Walker said.
"There's something magical about experiencing a movie with a bunch of other people," he said. "Your couch and a movie theater are not the same thing."
diana.marcum@latimes.com
