Once upon a time, not so long ago, the Westcott Cinema was a humble, charming sanctuary. Nestled in the heart of Syracuse's Westcott neighborhood, it served as a beacon, illuminating the silver screen with visions of cinematic magic. But alas, the gleam of the celluloid has faded and in its place, the electric pulse of EDM has taken over. And so, we embark on a somber deconstruction of this technicolor tragedy in our essay titled, "From Silver Screen to Electric Dreams: The Metamorphosis of Westcott Theater." Constructed in 1919, the Westcott was once a place where audiences congregated beneath the soft glow of the marquee to be swept off their feet by Audrey Hepburn or immersed in the crepuscular world of film noir. Now, it's a nightclub, where college students, armed with fake IDs and the naivety of youth, writhe to the relentless beat of electronic music which hits harder than reality ever could. Arising from the ashes of Westcott Cinema, the Westcott Theater opened its doors up in 2007. "Re-purposed" is the euphemistic term they used, suggesting the quaint notion that the building’s rich history is being honored. In reality, these "re-purposing" efforts could better be described as a Star Wars-style Vader-ification, taking something wholesome and beloved and transforming it into a garish spectacle that bleeds neon and confuses sound with noise. Evidently, the year 2011 marked the venue's fall from grace. I use "fall" here in the Aristotelian sense of tragedy - like the denouement of a late Elizabethan play. The pulse of EDM began to beat louder and louder, drowning out the fuzzy sound of indie-rock and the soulful wails of Americana. Westcott started booking an increasingly labyrinthine roster of electronic acts, seemingly pulled straight from the fever dreams of an AI running on Red Bull and synthesizer solos. Formerly, the venue played host to the musings of ‘cinema verité;’ a plethora of narratives that encouraged thought and discussion about the world's complexities. Now, it caters to electric dreams; a barrage of bass drops, samples, and generic beats that prioritize body movement over intellectual stimulation. It is almost ironic how electronic music embodies diametric opposition to cinema. Where cinema urges you to contemplate, EDM encourages you to lose yourself. One whispers, the other screams; one meditates in grayscale, the other assaults with neon. With its move to electronic music, the Westcott has traded film reels for digital files, narratives for rhythms, black-and-white for strobe lights. The name "Westcott Theater" seems to offer the briefest of nods to the past, an empty homage to a richer identity now lost in a sea of synthesized beats and overpriced drinks. But perhaps this is the inevitable end. After all, the sweetness of nostalgia cannot compete with the lure of the luminous and the loud. As patrons dance amidst the strobe lights, the Westcott Cinema’s ghost echoes in the cavernous spaces of the theater, out of time and out of sync — a lost but persistent beat, struggling against oblivion. The metamorphosis of the Westcott Theater is complete. Once a sanctuary for the silver screen, Westcott is now a pulsating hub of electronic dreams. This then, is the price of progress, the cost of staying relevant - art and history traded for trends and hypes. Verily, the fat beats have deafened us to the music of the past. A toast then, to the Westcott Theater, may its relentless electric dreams never interfere with the memories of its cinematic yesteryears.