In an era where every art form seems to demand its own digital amphitheater, Letterboxd emerged as cinema’s chosen sanctuary – a virtual cinematheque where film devotees gather to chronicle their celluloid journeys. After logging my thousandth film recently, I found myself reflecting on this platform that has become both digital diary and cinematic companion.
Like its literary cousin goodreads, it aspires to transform a solitary passion into a vibrant social experience. Yet both platforms now stand as compelling studies in unrealized potential, their ambitions caught in the space between visionary promise and practical execution.
Like an auteur’s early work, Letterboxd carries the unmistakable markers of genius: a distinctive voice, a fervent following, and moments of genuine brilliance. Yet its reliance on patronage over innovation, coupled with an interface that often feels more experimental than essential, leaves this cinematic social platform suspended between art house darling and mainstream revelation. The absence of truly meaningful social connections and discovery mechanisms echoes like an unresolved narrative thread – a masterwork waiting to emerge from its current state as an intriguing but incomplete sketch.
Think of it as a promising indie film that’s garnered critical acclaim at festivals but needs that crucial final polish to transform it from cult favorite to cultural touchstone. And like any student of cinema knows, even the most beloved classics often began as rough cuts in need of visionary refinement – their greatest potential still waiting in the wings.
missing links in letterboxd’s design
Letterboxd is a tool for movie lovers, but it often feels like it’s working against its audience. The app thrives on user-generated content, yet it gives back little in return. Patron subscribers enjoy a handful of perks like personalized stats and the ability to sort lists, but these features feel cosmetic rather than essential.
Worse, it lacks the flexibility that could transform it into a true cinephile’s hub. Take, for instance, its refusal to separate movies from TV shows. Episodic content—whether it’s prestige drama or comfort-viewing sitcoms—exists in a different category of fandom entirely. To lump them together muddies the waters.
Letterboxd’s monetization strategy is also stuck in the pre-streaming era. Why not adopt a model akin to pay-per-use apps, charging for advanced features like review analytics or list exporting? It wouldn’t alienate casual users while adding value for those willing to pay.
a year in film
For a platform built on our collective cinematic memory, Letterboxd remains curiously reluctant to reflect on itself. Where’s our equivalent of Spotify Wrapped – that moment of delightful self-discovery where viewing patterns crystallize into revealing insights? Imagine visualizing your journey through world cinema, tracking your gravitational pulls toward certain directors, or mapping your theatrical pilgrimages across city screens. Such features would transform Letterboxd from a mere logbook into a dynamic portrait of one’s evolving relationship with film.
I’d love to summarize your habits, chart your favorite directors, and spotlight the theaters you frequented most. Letterboxd can become a personal archive worth returning to—not just a static ledger of ratings but a living document of your evolving tastes.
The paradox of cinema lies in its dual nature: it’s an intensely personal experience shared in darkness with strangers. In my own journey, I’ve ventured solo into a theater exactly twice – once for “Joker,” in a moment that felt like crossing some invisible threshold of film devotion. Letterboxd’s review system brilliantly captures this tension, offering intimate diary-like reflections for public consumption. Yet its social architecture feels incomplete, like a beautifully designed theater missing its lobby. The platform begs for more sophisticated connection points: a friends-of-friends network that could unveil new recommendation horizons, or algorithms that could detect taste alignment beyond simple rating patterns.
And let’s not forget privacy. While Letterboxd thrives on openness, there’s a growing desire for control. The ability to make certain reviews private or visible only to close friends would let users balance public curation with private reflection.
fandango, youtube, and the cityscape
One of Letterboxd’s greatest sins is how disconnected it feels from the real-world experience of being a movie lover. Why can’t you watch trailers directly in-app, powered by YouTube? Why not partner with Fandango so I can buy tickets as I browse?
Even better, imagine location-based integrations. Visiting San Francisco? Let the app guide you to the best arthouse theaters and special screenings, from the Castro Theatre’s retro marathons to indie premieres at Alamo Drafthouse. In LA, it could spotlight events at the Aero, New Beverly, or Cinespia’s cemetery screenings.
With these partnerships, Letterboxd could transform from a passive tool into an active concierge, connecting users to the culture surrounding their love of film.
analytics without gamification
It’s tempting to gamify everything in the digital age, but Letterboxd doesn’t need gold oscars or leaderboards. Instead, it should focus on analytics that help users understand themselves. What genres dominate your viewing habits? Which day of the week do you watch the most films? Which theaters have you visited the most?
These insights wouldn’t just be fun—they’d be meaningful. They’d let users reflect on their habits and guide their next viewing choices. Imagine a notification: “You’ve watched every David Lynch film but one. Here’s where you can stream it.”
reimagninig ratings: my take on a letterboxd likert
As far as ratings go, I’d love to see them adopt a Likert scale—a method often used in surveys that allows users to rate their experience on a consistent spectrum, such as from ‘Strongly Disliked’ to ‘Strongly Liked.’ This approach would create more uniformity across reviews while feeling more nuanced than simply assigning stars. While star ratings offer a quick snapshot, a Likert scale provides richer nuance, capturing the spectrum of subjective opinions—from mild enjoyment to passionate dislike—without oversimplifying complex feelings into a single star. After all, one friend’s 3 could easily be another’s 4, and this scale might bridge that gap.
- Strongly Disliked: Painful to watch; completely unenjoyable. Would never recommend. Ex. Triple Frontier
- Disliked: Weak and frustrating; significant flaws outweigh any positives. Hard to recommend. Ex. Joker: Folie a Deaux
- Slightly Disliked: Disappointing but with minor redeeming qualities. Might appeal to specific tastes. Ex. Spiderhead
- Neutral: Middling and forgettable; neither good nor bad. Watchable but unremarkable. Ex. Dream Scenario
- Liked: Solid and enjoyable; succeeds in most areas. A good movie worth recommending to most. Ex. The Substance
- Strongly Liked: Excellent and memorable; excels in storytelling, performances, or artistry. A must-watch for film lovers. Ex. My Octopus Teacher
- All-Time Great: Masterful and iconic; a true standout that defines its genre or era. A film to cherish and revisit. Ex. Inception
the final act
Letterboxd is at a crossroads. It could remain a quaint logbook for film buffs or evolve into the definitive app for movie lovers. The blueprint is there: shareable insights, friends of friends for discovery, integrations with YouTube and Fandango for convenience, and smart analytics for self-reflection and recommendations.
If Letterboxd can embrace this potential, it won’t just be a good app. It’ll be essential—a Criterion Collection for the digital experience. Until then, it’s just a promising indie waiting for its big-budget remake.
unpublished alpha 