The Return of the Cinema Foyer Mural, and Why It’s Selling Out Shows
In 2026, the smartest marketing move I have seen was not a media buy. It was a ladder, four tins of paint, and a slightly eccentric illustrator from Ōamaru. Regional cinema chain Starfall Picturehouse quietly commissioned hand-painted murals in the foyers of its provincial theatres. Not generic movie scenes, but sprawling, hyper-local epics. One wall in Whanganui features a time-travelling bus conductor battling sea serpents off Castlecliff. In Timaru, a romance unfolds in the frozen aisle of an imaginary Antarctic research station. People are arriving 20 minutes early just to stare at the walls.
Here is the detail that got me. The murals change every six months. Not completely, just enough. A side character gets promoted. A dog reappears with an eye patch. A poster within the mural advertises a fictional film that regulars now ask staff about. It is world-building, done with house paint and patience. The cinema reports concession sales are up, yes, but more interestingly, weekday attendance has climbed. People are bringing out-of-town friends to “see the wall”. The marketing is not shouting. It is inviting.
We talk a big game about immersive experiences. Usually that means projection mapping and a press release full of breathless language. This is different. It smells faintly of turps. You can see the brush strokes if you lean in. Teenagers are taking photos in front of it before school formal. Retirees are debating plot theories over flat whites next door. The mural has become a serialised story that belongs to the town. No one is skipping the ads on this.
There is a lesson here for any brand with a physical footprint. Stop thinking of space as something to brand, and start thinking of it as something to continue. A narrative that evolves. A wink to the regulars. A reason to pop in even when there is nothing specific to buy. In a year when attention is shredded into confetti, a painted wall in a small New Zealand cinema is quietly proving that patience, specificity, and a bit of theatrical flair can still pack a house.
Here is the detail that got me. The murals change every six months. Not completely, just enough. A side character gets promoted. A dog reappears with an eye patch. A poster within the mural advertises a fictional film that regulars now ask staff about. It is world-building, done with house paint and patience. The cinema reports concession sales are up, yes, but more interestingly, weekday attendance has climbed. People are bringing out-of-town friends to “see the wall”. The marketing is not shouting. It is inviting.
We talk a big game about immersive experiences. Usually that means projection mapping and a press release full of breathless language. This is different. It smells faintly of turps. You can see the brush strokes if you lean in. Teenagers are taking photos in front of it before school formal. Retirees are debating plot theories over flat whites next door. The mural has become a serialised story that belongs to the town. No one is skipping the ads on this.
There is a lesson here for any brand with a physical footprint. Stop thinking of space as something to brand, and start thinking of it as something to continue. A narrative that evolves. A wink to the regulars. A reason to pop in even when there is nothing specific to buy. In a year when attention is shredded into confetti, a painted wall in a small New Zealand cinema is quietly proving that patience, specificity, and a bit of theatrical flair can still pack a house.