Cinemark Vs Regal: Which Has The Best Concessions?

Whether you rush to the movies for the latest action film, horror flick, romantic comedy, or drama, the promise of movie theater indulgences sweetens the film-going experience. Where I live in Portland, Oregon — aside from historic, local, independent theaters – every multiplex within a 20-mile radius dons either a Regal Cinema or Cinemark neon sign. 

Long ago, I discovered Cinemark's dependable, reclinable seats beat Regal's mostly-unmovable benches, I've also considered which of the two theater chains offers superior refreshments. So, on an empty stomach, I attended a picture at each of the competing cinemas and sampled everything from the almost-obligatory trio of popcorn, candy, and soda to the more meal-driven fare –– like pizza, hotdogs, and nachos. Then, I compared the two movie behemoths based solely on their offerings — considering factors like the freshness and variety of the food, the condiments available, and overall execution of the fare — to see which theater would triumph over the other. 

I wanted to start with the most base-level movie snack — a must-have indulgence for many of the film going population:popcorn. This treat is emblematic of the cinematic experience and one that I thoroughly enjoy. Though, I can't recall a time when I polished off an entire bag of popped kernels before the previews. Maybe my palate becomes fatigued by the saltiness after a few greedy clawfuls, or, as I suspect, the snack bores me after the intense butter flavoring near the top of the bag dissipates, leaving the more moderately-bathed kernels below. 

Regal, despite offering a Cheetos collab (to which I passed on) and an enticing number of popcorn extras (like nutritional yeast, shakeable cheese, and more), sold popcorn that was both over-salted and under-buttered. It was tepid and barely passable. On another day, from another batch of popcorn, I maybe could've created an invention of my own with the nooch and cheese, but the salt level of the popcorn already bordered on inedible — so I skipped on further adulteration.

At Cinemark, the concessions employee layered and tossed my bag of popcorn with the butter. It arrived in my hands exactly as I envisioned: guiltily greasy, reasonably salted, and somewhat of the platonic ideal of movie theater popcorn. On the way to my seat, I found myself embarrassingly licking single kernels into my mouth, like a kitten drinking from a bowl. Once hunkered down in my reclining throne, I returned to the bag so often that I kept a napkin in my other hand to clean up the mess I made. I single-handedly made my way through half the bag before realizing the damage.

The two theaters overlap the most in their candy selections. Both stock their shelves with the usual suspects –– like M&M's, Red Vines, and Raisinetes — and I can appreciate that both theaters smartly kept boxes of Junior Mints loaded up in the freezer along with the ice cream. While Regal's candy selection leaned slightly more to Gen Z's tastes by keeping new favorites, like Nerds Gummy Clusters, on hand, the only real differentiation between the two chains was their selections beyond candy. Cinemark, along the same wire rack as the Trolli gummies, stocked single-sized bags of Takis, Cheetos, and Doritos. It was almost like its concession stand doubled as an after-school snack catch-all. Meanwhile, Regal stuck strictly to sweets. 

Both theaters had a similar candy selection, besides a small handful of niche inclusions at each theater. So, I suppose if Milk Duds (Cinemark) or chocolate-coated pretzels (Regal) set your heart aflutter, you might elicit a stronger opinion of which rival wins the candy round. But for me, it was a complete stalemate. 

I've never enjoyed or even comprehended the squirmy appeal of a simple hot dog. Yes, my adverse opinion of the American classic proves unpopular at sporting events, summer cookouts, eating with children, and countless family meals. Still, I believe I do recognize the blue-collar je ne sais quoi of hot dogs' appeal.

Despite my non-believer status, I still recognized Regal's choice of Nathan's Famous all-beef hot dog as an industry touchstone. If anything, I hoped the casing of the hot dog would offer the pleasurable burst that I've come to expect with this meat. Though, Cinemark's hotdog proved to be the exact reason why I avoid frankfurters. It was wet, despite the fact that it was pulled from a rotating warmer. It was also slimy and only serviceable once it had been veiled in condiments. Cinemark's dog also took me on a short ride of two paltry bites before I had to set it aside. The bun, however, held its own and remained pillowy — despite its contact with the soggy center of the handheld snack.

Meanwhile, Regal offers the option of smothering your dog in nacho cheese and/or chili (for an extra fee), which I declined due to the potential messiness. Nevertheless, a cheerful, burnt coral-colored hotdog hit my hands. Once I bit into it, I found it had a pleasurable, popping bite. But, the theater's stale bun flaked at ever edge and dampened my opinion of the food even more. 

If anything, Cinemark's hot dog managed a photo finish due to its aluminum foil wrapper, which I trusted to keep any unsavory runoff from grazing my hand, or worse, the pizza. Regal, in comparison, uses a branded wax paper that struggled to remain closed over the duration of my short walk to the theater.

Regal's pizza kept me waiting more than five minutes, despite the fact that I asked for pepperoni instead of more complicated offerings, like buffalo chicken or barbecue chicken pizza. When the personal-sized pizza dropped, my date and I both noticed how two varietals of pepperoni dotted the pizza. There were both the classic round slices and the pill-sized wedges. The cheese on the pizza looked charred and there were burnt edges, which clearly showed that it was freshly-baked in an oven. 

Despite the dueling pepperonis, I felt confident (until my first bite) that Regal's pizza would be serviceable. Unlike Cinemark's pizza, Regal's crust proved nearly undetectable. The entirety of the base felt more akin to flatbread than something I'd label as "pizza." The toppings tried, to no avail, to remain on the pizza — which had no edge and little form. The pizza quickly splatted back onto the serving tray after mere seconds of handling. The cheese, which perhaps was a few days past its best-by date, carried a sour note on my tongue, leaving the pizza to meet an early end. 

The bar I set to rate these pizzas was about as low as my kneecaps, but fast-food rendition of the cheesy delight from Cinemark surpassed my mild expectations and lasted me for an entire three-hour-plus film. I might even order its pizza again. The pizza I ordered took a considerable amount of time to make, but it was worth the wait. It was far better than a Chuck-E-Cheese 'za (which is about the standard I expected). Instead, Cinemark delivered a gooey, four-slice mini pizza with a decent crust and burnt bubbles of mozzarella cheese. It also stocks 1-ounce, sealed containers of dips — like marinara, ranch, barbecue, honey mustard, and astoundingly Mike's Hot Honey – for guests to enhance their snacks or dip their plain crusts into. Once my pizza was drizzled with hot honey and my crusts were practically mummified in ranch, I could say that Cinemark's pizza did satisfy my hunger. Plus, it even came in a legitimate pizza box I used as a tray to carry my other concessions. 

For me, nachos have a glass ceiling. They're never offensively bad, nor can they reach the heights of a burger, burrito, or even a tray of french fries — even when executed perfectly. So, while my nacho ideology makes the chip-based snack a poor dinner option most nights, it does prove useful during trips to the mall, visits to the skate rink, and yes, days at the movie theater.

At Regal, the nachos are served fresh, and the pump cheese was, unfortunately, within eyesight — reminding me how a key component of my meal emits a squirty sound during preparation. Though the theater defers to the same round tortilla chips as Cinemark, I also had the option to substitute in the nacho cheese Doritos. Though, I did not get an opportunity to taste the guest-starring Doritos, as I instead opted for the original rendition that the sole concessions employee delivered to me. 

Cinemark allows movie-goers to choose between a pre-cheesed nacho set from a heated rack or to order a fresh tray from the concessions stand. I opted for the latter to give the theater the biggest shot at success, and to cut into the 26 minutes of previews that run before the pictures (a fact that was confirmed by ushers at both theaters). For better or worse, Cinemark's nachos were exactly what I anticipated. The strange, yet appealing, phony cheese adhered to salted corn chips like fondue from a cartoon. Despite knowing how my body might revolt later, I kept nibbling on the nachos throughout the film. The round chips feel sturdier than their triangle cousins, and no little chip bits are left behind in the tray. 

Visually, Cinemark and Regal's nacho offerings weren't that different; both looked to round tortilla chips for the nacho foundation, both arrived in flimsy trays that tested my faith in my balancing skills, and each serving was accompanied by ramekins of the obligatory, bright orange liquid cheese. The nachos at each theater, though passable, revealed popcorn's dominance in the crunchy snack arena.

Here is where the fundamental differences between the two theaters become the most salient. Whereas Regal asks the same employee to sell tickets (and assign seats), build food orders, and pour drinks from a soda machine nearly as overworked as themselves, Cinemark at least pretends that its customers have an inkling of control, as it allows its movie-goers to spurt their own beverages into awaiting cups. 

Most damning, though, is Regal's recent allegiance to Pepsi while Cinemark proudly pours Coca-Cola products from state-of-the-art Freestyle machines. The Freestyle allows thirsty guests to combine flavors and add sodas to their heart's content, all without leaving the giant interface of one machine. Though both companies carry Icees, only Cinemark's machine twirled limited-edition "Wicked" flavors including "Emerald City Freeze" (green apple) and "Wonderful Raz" (raspberry). Regal's spin the expected Coca Cola, and white cherry ––  the former of which Cinemark also kept on hand.

Noticing that no security guard, or theater nark, was lurking near the beverage station, I sampled a shot of each "Wicked" slurry in the bottom of my cup before filling it with my go-to Diet Coke with two splashes of cherry and the exact amount of ice I prefer. In the age of growing surveillance, the facade of elbow room surprisingly colored my view of Cinemark for the best. 

One of the only perks of adulthood is the freedom to imbibe while enjoying cinema magic — I swear it keeps me alive. When I was growing up, I remembered how most theater chains restrained from hawking alcoholic beverages within their walls. But, but in modern times, and in the context of declining ticket sales, it's reasonable to expect that both Regal and Cinemark would add an abbreviated spirit list to their menus.

This is one instance where Regal did in fact reign. I spied cans of one-and-done cocktails, Twisted Teas, generic beer, and Trulys in its beverage case. Cinemark, which attempted a chicness beyond its grasp, kept boxed wines and draft beer on hand. Though, neither of these selections really match the when-in-Rome quality of Cinemark's snacks, and it seems pretty absurd to carry stemware into a theater equipped only for bulky soft drink containers. So, to whoever runs the adult beverage program at Regal, cheers to you for capturing the theater's only clear win.

While the two movie conglomerates both screen an almost identical set of movies, force patrons to sit through nearly a half-hour of previews, and offer concessions, Cinemark, without a doubt, snatched the concessions crown from Regal's fist. Although Regal tries to court a quick impulse buy with amendments like Doritos nachos, Cheetos popcorn, and hot dog toppings, its core menu only offers subpar food. Its overextended employees are asked to maintain and work several stations simultaneously, which meant lukewarm popcorn and misheard orders. Meanwhile, Cinemark's open-air offerings and willingness to allow its guests the tiniest moment of autonomy and personalization resonates throughout the experience. While the majority of its menu still requires guests to order counter-side, allowing movie-goers to quickly snag preheated snacks from display cases and operate the soda dispensers sheds the experience of rigidity and stuffiness. Cinemark also offers a smart, but not showy, bouquet of condiments and superior pizzas, which led the theater chain to take the cake.

It's not just the quality of the concessions that differs between the chains, but also the overall experience. Somewhere in the past decade or so, Cinemark decided to operate its food stand like a cafeteria line, in which movie-goers load up on concessions and one employee totals their debt at the end of the line. Regal, a vestige from the past by comparison, gatekeeps the experience while also asking too much from a thinning staff. Patrons wait in a long line for drained staff members to fill orders of soda and popcorn and become visibly stressed when anything requiring more than a button push of assembly is ordered, all while stocking measurably worse menu items than its competitors.  

I sincerely walked into both theaters with no preconceived notions over which one had a better snack counter. As someone who strives to stay on top of new movie releases, I more or less only adhere to the whims of showtimes and routinely only ordered a soda and popcorn. To compare Regal and Cinemark, I went to two movies a week apart, within the same city, and sampled analogous concessions offerings from both. Though both theaters offer chicken nuggets, the ovens Regal and Cinemark used to cook the encrusted poultry were on the fritz during both of my visits, and I took the coincidence as a sign of the dish's unpopularity.

Unlike creating a ranking of my favorite films of the year, I could determine Cinemark's triumph over Regal without any handwriting. Cinemark outperformed Regal in almost every regard, including in terms of the execution, presentation, freshness, and re-orderability of its items.