APPROACHING THE SKYLINE

WHEN A STRANGER CALLS

I was researching locations and business owners for a separate documentary project when I called Skyline Drive-In and spoke to Martin Smith, its owner and manager. It was October 2023, and Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour was coming to movie theaters. Martin had just finished setting up a 40,000 watt array of speakers, creating a wall of sound in front of his 84-foot movie screen. He expected a big turnout which would translate to a needed boost to the box office till.

Over the next 90 minutes, Martin proceeded to tell me about the challenges he had been facing with dwindling audience numbers. “Streaming and COVID delivered a 1-2 punch”. Already KO’d were the Hi-Way Drive-In in 2021 and most recently the Mission Tiki Drive-In. Martin said that others around the state were barely holding on. “The biggest gut punch was when Disney released Mulan online. We had been promoting it for months, and the week before Memorial Day, they pulled it. It left all the theater owners scrambling for a Memorial Day movie to bring people to the theaters.”

Occasionally, something would fill the lot and keep a steady stream of cars — Avatar: The Way of Water, Barbie, Top Gun: Maverick. But a few strong weekends do not fully sustain any movie theater. On top of limited films that draw a drive-in audience, many films have short cinema runs before becoming available on streaming. So people wait it out.

Theater owners were also hampered by Double Feature requirements of major studios like Disney and Sony Pictures — even if the studios only had one new release. In order to play the film, Martin often had to follow it with one that had long been available for streaming, even if he knew no one would stick around for the second showing.

“The studios are demanding three weeks for a movie. If no one comes, you still have to show it. And if you don’t play this movie, you don’t get that bigger movie coming down the pipe.” Universal, Warner Brothers, Paramount, Lionsgate had lighter requirements, and Martin credits them with saving the cinema industry amidst the pandemic.

During COVID, he paired Mel Brooks’ Blazing Saddles with Spaceballs for a double feature. He said the lot was packed Friday, Saturday and Sunday, and the next week an executive from Warner Brothers called him to congratulate him on the creative lineup. That next weekend, nearly every other California drive-in followed suit.

I would come to learn that it is this creative billing that would come to sustain Skyline. Other successful pairings: Straight Outta Compton with Boyz n the Hood; Meg 2 with Jaws. Martin said those lineups killed.

THE ARRIVAL

I was generally aware of the location of Skyline Drive-in. As you drive north out of Barstow toward Las Vegas, you can see the two monolithic screens tucked between two rocky hills to the west. As I pulled in, I became instantly aware of the massive amount of upkeep required in a space this large. A 20-foot wide “Open 7 Days” sign at the entrance, 1/4 mile of entrance and exit driveways, a crumbling 1960’s era ticket booth, thousands of feet of fencing, tens of thousands of square feet of asphalt, two towering screens, and in the middle of it all — the concession stand and projection booth he proudly painted in “mustard yellow and official Coca-Cola red”. Martin maintained all of this alone.

Behind the concessions, there is a collection of all things mechanical that Martin has amassed. He’s a self-proclaimed “collector and scrapper”. Browsing Facebook Marketplace and Craigslist is a hobby. Old lamps and electrical components from closed drive-ins, antique sewing machines, storage trailers, forklifts — he uses them all for one thing or another around the lot. A broken slushee machine? A temperamental cash register? He’ll find a newer one in a day, and he can service it all himself.

On that first visit, Martin told me how the first weekend of Taylor’s Eras Tour yielded a meager 43 adults and 12 children. The second weekend brought in 41 adults and 11 children. He was strictly committed to two more weekends. No one came. The wall of speakers stayed silent, and Martin took a hit.

Martin was also critical of the selection of films coming out of Hollywood, feeling many were alienating a big portion of his audience. The rising costs of electricity, insurance, and supplies didn’t help either. A 500 ct. box of Coke cups rose from $40 to $178 in a couple years. But ultimately, the biggest culprit was and is streaming.

The comfort of the couch, the proximity of the microwave, the ability to multitask with a laptop while watching. It was obvious to me that our media consumption habits were delivering the final blow to an industry that had already survived cable television and the internet. The streamers keep the older generations at home in sweatpants while social media consumes the attention of the younger ones.

A recent study found that Gen Z averaged nearly 11 hours a week on TikTok and over 9 hours on Instagram in 2025 (dcdx 2026). Extrapolate this behavior a decade down the road, and one can easily see how the streamers could be next on the chopping block.

BIG FISH

The Skyline sunsets are glorious panoramas, illuminating the surrounding landscape. Then the temperature drops, the stars begin to reveal themselves, and the Barstow skyline bookends the massive ‘Screen 1’. Depending upon the weather, some theatergoers stay in their car while some unpack chairs and blankets. There are the occasional headlights or the red glow from brake lights lighting up the screen. Vehicle stereos generally drown out any other distractions. And afterward, Martin is always ready with a battery jump — a near nightly occurrence.

In that initial round of filming, I returned with my son Cruz. Captain Marvel, Five Nights at Freddie’s, Next Goal Wins, and Disney’s Wish graced the screens. None brought in more than 20 cars. But what I noticed was that Cruz, even though he did not yet use social media, was genuinely enjoying the experience. With a medium Dr. Pepper and popcorn, he was in his element. I started to see the drive-in through his eyes, and the tone of the project began to come to me.

His first movie experience, after all, was at San Luis Obispo’s Sunset Drive-in, coincidentally owned by Martin’s step-father. 14 years later, I had made it a point to stop off at Sunset again with the family to see Barbie the previous summer. It was followed by Meg 2, but apparently I was the only one in the car who wanted to see a megalodon projected 60-feet wide. So we retired to our motel.

BOYHOOD

In the spring of 2024, I produced a 5-minute work sample of The Skyline and largely let it sit. In the summer of 2025, while attending a filmmaker retreat in Scotland, I screened the edit for my peers. Sonja Prosenc, a special guest filmmaker (History of Love, Family Therapy) pulled me aside and asked why I had stopped filming. Client work, developing another project, raising teenagers, etc, I said. Sonja insisted that I revisit it and try to unearth the larger theme I had started to tackle. I wasn’t sure I could, but I decided to try. Rejuvenated, I returned to Skyline in August 2025, just in time for 110˚ days which cooled down to a refreshing 90˚ by the time the second feature started.

Not much had changed on the grounds except a salvaged EXIT sign and a stripped down Quixote makeup trailer Martin had won at auction. And the concession staff was new. His previous concessions manager took a higher paying job at Love’s Truck Stop, just as Martin had predicted.

Again, I trained the camera on my son’s experience. Now 17-years-old, the cellular ring of power was constantly calling from his pocket. To my surprise, he wasn’t distracted by his phone but again absorbed in the place itself — observing and forming his own poetic reflections. He also thought it was an epic venue to watch Zach Cregger’s hit Weapons. And it was.

We discussed the impact of society’s digital consumption. Cruz began forming theories of the distractions and divisions he typically witnessed — absent in this desert drive-in. He couldn't reconcile why drive-ins would fade, but the question itself was shaping his understanding of nostalgia. I asked him to co-write the narration with me. What emerged is both a meditation on fading traditions and a teenager’s attempt to understand the changing media landscape all around him.

I tackled the edit over next two months and had just finished editing when I received a call from Martin. Wednesdays and Thursdays were empty. He was lucky if he got four cars. He was losing money keeping it open, so he made the difficult decision to go from five days a week to three until the end of the season on January 2.

Once again his creative billing was keeping him afloat, sharing that “Goonies and Beetlejuice pummeled One Battle After Another”. He remains optimistic with the spring/summer releases. He is restoring the Hi-Way’s salvaged marquee and replacing the ticket booth during the closed winter months. As crestfallen as he seems at times, he is determined to persevere. After all, for a guy who has “mcgyver” in his email address, fixing things brings him almost as much joy as a good Tim Burton movie on an 84-foot screen.

BACK TO THE FUTURE

Last November I swung by the Skyline Drive-In for another project I’m producing. Martin invited me and the cast to stick around after sunset, and he treated us to a showing of Back to the Future under the autumn Super Moon. I was a 10-year-old kid again, full of absolute glee and marvel. When Doc absent-mindedly types in November 5, 1955 into the DeLorean’s time travel module, someone gasped and yelled “Today is November 5, 2025!” And it was. Serendipity with a side of Michael J. Fox. Perfect.

This documentary’s story, like many, will continue to develop. Life has a way of making all things finite, and production timelines are not sparred. With this film, it’s not my goal to try to encapsulate all of the challenges of the theater industry, or even Martin’s. I wish I could tell the stories of the many independent theater owners facing insurmountable challenges in order to survive and (ideally) the multiple generations of their community’s members rallying around these cinemas. For now, Martin’s story is their collective story. And life’s new habits, distractions, and frenetic pace play the antagonist.

In the end I realized that, as magical and nostalgic as the Skyline feels, its best moments escape the lens. It truly has to be experienced in person. Get there, take a few photos for the ‘Gram, grab some popcorn, a soda, maybe some Mike & Ikes. Then lock the phone in the glove box, tune your radio to 106.1FM along with your fellow theatergoers, and share the same story under the same sky.