The Price of Stepping Inside the Screen

Has consumption replaced storytelling?

In Edinburgh, a new cafe inspired by the world of Studio Ghibli has recently opened its doors inside The Cocktail Geeks bar. The space, decorated with references to beloved animated films, invites visitors to step into a setting that feels lifted straight from the screen. For fans, it is easy to see the appeal: themed drinks, recognisable imagery, and a place where admiration for animation becomes something shared and tangible.

At first glance, there is nothing particularly new about this idea. Cinema and television have long generated themed attractions and tourist experiences. One well-known example is the Warner Bros. Studio Tour London — The Making of Harry Potter, which opened near London in 2012. The tour was created so that the sets, costumes, and props used during filming would not be discarded, but could instead be preserved and displayed for fans. Visitors could walk through the Great Hall, see the original costumes and, naturally, buy merchandise: wands, Butterbeer, and souvenir photographs on flying broomsticks. Yet at the time, the attraction still felt relatively rare, almost like a pilgrimage site for enthusiasts of the films.

Over the past few years, however, themed experiences have multiplied rapidly. What was once occasional has started to resemble a trend. Cafes inspired by anime, television series, or famous films are appearing in many cities, each offering themed menus and carefully designed interiors. They are visually striking, almost engineered for social media, but they often feel remarkably similar to one another.

Beyond cafes, entire events are now being built around the concept of turning film into a live experience. One example is “Taste the Movie” events, organised in various venues across the UK. The concept is simple: audiences watch a film while being served the same dishes that appear on screen. When a character takes a bite, a corresponding plate arrives at the table. Tickets for these evenings often cost around £80 per person. Judging from the promotional videos circulating online, the portions tend to be small and the menu fairly simple, with the emphasis placed on novelty rather than gastronomy.

Experiences inspired by television series are also becoming increasingly common. In the US, immersive events based on the Netflix series Bridgerton invite guests to attend Regency-style balls complete with actors, orchestral music, and dance performances. These so-called ‘Bridgerton Experiences’ typically last around ninety minutes, and tickets start at roughly $40.

None of these ideas is inherently problematic. A themed cafe can be charming, and an immersive evening out can be enjoyable. Many people simply want an unusual activity to share with friends or family, and there is nothing wrong with that.

What feels different today is the sheer scale and speed with which these experiences are appearing. Cafes open and close quickly, often driven by the momentum of passing trends. The emphasis seems less on building lasting cultural spaces and more on capturing attention through marketing and recognisable intellectual property.

This is where the contrast with fan conventions becomes striking. Events such as Comic-Con place the community of fans at their centre, involving panels with creators, discussions about the work, and opportunities to meet actors or artists. The interaction between fans and the creative world that produced the story is part of the appeal.

In many themed cafes or immersive dining events, that collective dimension appears weaker. The experience is carefully curated, but the focus is largely on consumption: the themed drink, the ticketed event, the photograph taken against a decorative backdrop.

Merchandising, of course, is not new. Popular culture has always generated products. Yet in an era shaped by constant online visibility, stories increasingly seem to be designed for extension into purchasable experiences. And sometimes one cannot help wondering whether the story itself risks being overshadowed by everything built around it.

Illustration by Zoe Small