When I saw Wicked, at the end of the well-attended matinee screening, an enthusiastic little boy who was there with a big family group yelled out, “Everybody clap!” and the whole audience burst into applause.

I didn’t like the movie, but I liked the boy. So on his behalf, I say bless you all, may you and your little movie-going community enjoy Wicked and clap at the end. May you even carry on and watch Gladiator II in a day-killing double feature, thereby getting a kick out of the phenomenon known as “Glicked,” a seemingly desperate marketing ploy to gin up another hugely profitable “Barbenheimer” experience that united two dissimilar big-budget releases last year: Barbie and Oppenheimer.

It’s been a very hard year, 2024, and we all need a break. It’s been a particularly ghastly year for American movies. I hadn’t realized quite how bad it’s been until I saw Anora last week and felt the tears come to my eyes because it’s such a good movie — and that means the once-thriving American cinema isn’t quite done yet.