Why Does Popcorn Cost More Than the Movie Ticket?

For most people, the moment of shock at the cinema doesn’t come when buying the ticket. It comes at the kiosk. A family ticket deal might look reasonable, but a popcorn-and-drinks order can easily exceed the cost of the film itself. It feels irrational. It isn’t.

The reason popcorn is expensive is simple: for most cinemas, the movie ticket is not the main product.

When you buy a ticket, a large portion of that money never stays with the cinema. In the opening weeks of a major release, film studios typically take between 50% and 65% of ticket revenue. For blockbusters, the split can be even higher at the start. Cinemas keep a larger share later in the run, but by then attendance usually drops.

That means full seats don’t automatically mean profits.

Popcorn does.

Popcorn kernels are one of the cheapest food inputs in retail. They are shelf-stable, easy to store, simple to prepare, and produce minimal waste. A large tub of popcorn often costs the cinema well under £0.50 to produce, sometimes far less. When sold for £6–£8, gross margins commonly sit north of 70%, often higher when bundled with drinks.

This isn’t greed layered on top of a healthy business. It’s the business.

Cinemas carry heavy fixed costs that don’t disappear when ticket prices fall. Large leases in prime locations. Projection equipment. Licensing fees. Staff. Utilities. Refurbishment cycles. Cleaning. Insurance. These costs exist whether a screen is full or half empty.

The kiosk is the only place where cinemas fully control pricing and keep the majority of the revenue.

This is why cinemas often price tickets competitively but hold firm on snacks. Lower ticket prices can increase footfall. Lower snack prices rarely increase volume enough to compensate for lost margin. Selling two cheaper popcorns instead of one expensive one still doesn’t pay the rent.

The pricing structure at the counter is also deliberate. Small price differences between sizes push customers upward. Bundles anchor perception, making the “deal” feel rational even when total spend rises. Premium items make standard popcorn look reasonable by comparison. This is classic choice architecture, not accidental pricing.

The ban on outside food follows the same logic. It’s not about cleanliness or noise. It’s about survival. Allowing external snacks undermines the only reliable profit centre in the business model. A cinema that sells tickets without concessions is essentially running a loss-making exhibition service for film studios.

This creates a structural imbalance. Studios profit when seats are full. Cinemas profit when mouths are busy. Their incentives are misaligned. Studios want longer films, more showings, and packed auditoriums. Cinemas want breaks, bundles, premium seating, and higher spend per customer.

Independent cinemas expose this tension clearly. Many rely less on popcorn margins and more on alcohol, food service, memberships, or community loyalty. A glass of wine or a local beer replaces the soda. Events and curated programming replace sheer volume. The economics shift, but the principle remains: the screen alone rarely pays for itself.

Multiplexes, operating at scale, double down on concessions because scale magnifies fixed costs. A large venue without strong per-head spend bleeds cash quickly.

Streaming didn’t kill this model. It exposed it. When attendance dropped during and after COVID, cinemas that relied heavily on high concession margins survived better than those that relied on ticket volume alone. Empty seats are bad. Empty kiosks are fatal.

Premium formats are an attempt to rebalance this equation. IMAX, 4DX, luxury seating, and dine-in cinemas push more revenue back into the ticket itself by turning the experience into the product. In those models, popcorn becomes one component of a broader bundle rather than the sole profit engine.

Still, the underlying logic remains intact.

Cinema tickets are often priced to get you through the door. Popcorn is priced to keep the doors open.

This is why frequent moviegoers feel penalised. Loyal customers subsidise casual viewers through repeated concession spending. Subscription ticket models struggle here because they undermine kiosk attachment, which is why many chains limit or tightly control them.

From the outside, it looks like a snack tax. From the inside, it’s a fragile equilibrium.

The uncomfortable truth is that if popcorn were priced “reasonably” by everyday standards, many cinemas would simply stop existing. The ticket price you pay is not the real price of the experience. The kiosk quietly fills the gap.

Popcorn costs more than the movie because the movie is not what keeps the lights on.

The screen sells the dream.

The kiosk pays the bills.

Once you see that, the pricing stops looking outrageous and starts looking inevitable.