Beyond the New Picture House: Exploring St Andrews’ Film Culture

I am not ashamed to admit I shed a few tears when the New Picture House closed. I’ve loved cinema all my life, and that building symbolised countless evenings with friends and loved ones, filled with that unique whirlwind of emotions only the big screen can evoke. Whenever the Scottish winter crept into my bones, the local cinema always managed to warm me up.

The New Picture House was bought by Tiger Woods and Justin Timberlake and has now reopened as T-Squared Social, a luxury sports bar that still shows some films albeit in a much more limited way. Although two of the original cinema screens have technically been kept (the smaller one remains almost untouched, while the historic main auditorium still has its screen but has been completely repurposed), the building itself has undergone a radical transformation.

I’d rather not support what feels like the transformation of a community landmark into an exclusive venue. The golf bar will thrive without me. Instead, in this article, I want to show that St Andrews’ cinematic spirit is still alive and accessible.

Cinema, after all, is a collective ritual. It demands a different kind of respect for what you are watching: the shared darkness, the focus that comes from putting your phone away, and that fleeting sense of connection with strangers, all drawn together by the light of the screen. I still remember seeing Saltburn in St Andrews in December 2023: the laughter, the gasps, the collective shock that filled the room. That electric energy is what we must protect.

Lately, I’ve been attending screenings organised by the St Andrews Film Society, a friendly and vibrant club offering bi-weekly showings (Tuesdays and Thursdays) in university spaces like the Quad or Buchanan Building, followed by pub nights where people meet and discuss the film. The programme is rich, featuring both popular and auteur cinema — recent choices include A Clockwork Orange (Stanley Kubrick), Suspiria (Dario Argento), and In the Mood for Love (Wong Kar-wai). Membership costs just £5 a year and gives you access to all screenings, making them accessible to everyone.

Another unmissable event is SANDS: St Andrews International Film Festival. Founded in 2022 with director Joe Russo as a key festival supporter, SANDS takes place each spring at the Byre Theatre. Its mission is to connect innovative stories and people with audiences through premieres, interviews, and Q&A sessions with directors, producers, and actors. What I love most is that many of its curators are St Andrews students themselves, dedicating time and passion to select and share meaningful films with their peers.

The Byre Theatre itself is also worth following. Deeply rooted in the community, it frequently offers a wide variety of screenings — from opera to contemporary cinema. One of my favourite things about the Byre is its “pay what you can” policy for many events, which lets people choose their ticket price by paying the minimum rate or adding a little extra as a donation.

And if you’re in the mood for a cinematic adventure, take the short trip to Dundee and visit the Dundee Contemporary Arts centre (DCA), a creative hub filled with exhibitions, workshops, a lovely bar, and, most importantly, an excellent cinema that screens new releases and indie gems. It also hosts a series of film festivals throughout the year. My personal favourite will always be DunDead: The Dundee Horror Film Festival. Every May, the cinema fills with the delicious tension of collective fear — like when I found myself gripping the armrest during an Australian film about a gigantic, flesh-hungry spider. Ticket prices at the DCA are also very reasonable, with a student discount bringing them down to £7.

These are just a few of many examples of how we can keep the cinematic experience alive through conscious choices that support local venues, places that have long been dedicated to celebrating the community and its culture. Because while buildings may change, our values should not.

Illustration by Isabelle Holloway