Showing 1,226 - 1,250 of 1,697 comments
It’s always smething around here.
It’s worth a look.
I meant that the reason e-walk is beginning to feel shabby with that 42nd Street flavor is because Regal are poor housekeepers in general, not because of the decor.
And the Mc/BK metaphor reminds me that when Burger King took over the locations of many old Automats, they really did desecrate the places.
The descriptive text may need to be revised because I believe the old theatre (last called the Park Avenue) was torn down several years ago and the new cinema (Long Beach Cinema 4) was built from the ground up at the same site.
I have passed this location many times and never noticed the back. And now, poof, there’s an old theater right in front of me. Thanks, Ed.
I see the holiday fruitcake has arrived.
I’m happy to read that Clearview’s Craig Connor was there opening night; I’m not surprised to find that he had a hand in it.
As Forrest136 said, the interior design is extremely Loews-oriented, and I recommend that anyone interested in seeing a wealth of old photos and painted recreations of old Loew’s theaters should high-tail it here before Regal changes the decor. Which would be a shame, because a lot of time, money and thought obviously went into its eye-popping ambiance.
Regal is a poor housekeeper; they will have to work extra hard at this hardtop.
I like that logo, which I think was developed when they had their 3-D festival.
I use Yahoo for listing the theaters I like to go to, and for this theater as AMC Loews they have “no information available” and as Regal E-Walk it’s not even listed. How do I get them to update their listings?
I don’t think it’s the Deuce…it’s the Broadway/7th Avenue entrance.
Nice view of Broadway streetscape, Warren. Well done.
I always liked this theater, even though they showed that awful print of Gone With The Wind.
Puffy, my only complaint about this theater is that the ushers turn the house lights on as soon as the end credits start, in order to get the house cleaned for the next show. There are usually about 4 ushers who barge in, talking and sweeping, even under my feet while I am still sitting there!
As one who always stays and reads the credits to the very end, this is very disconcerting and annoying.
I wish the candy counter personnel were half as speedy.
It’s always something around here.
Warren, while I treasure your breadth and scope of cinema knowledge and resources, I do think it was a bit much to call 311 on a place that you haven’t even been to. On the other hand, I do think flip-flops is a bit over-the-top, as well.
The “screening room” is just another auditorium, the smallest one at about 62 seats. It is located in a former retail space to the right of the theatre, as seen in the photos above. The door you see is used for exit only; the small screen is to the right of the door (or to the left of the door when you are inside).
Malverne uses this screen for its older pictures, often splitting the bill with 2 separate-admission features.
The original auditorium is divided into four rooms; the entrance to the fifth screen is located toward the front of the lobby.
I did love those double features. This is a heartbreaking shame.
A nice looking, modern and comfortable cinema, in the typical latter-days Loew’s style, with a big high-ceilinged lobby with the auditoriums down hallways on either side of the lobby. Big screens, bright images and comfy seats. A mix of mainstream fare and cross-over art releases.
Pretty unremarkable, but inexpensive. Friendly staff.
I think the actual name is Middlebrook Galleria Cinemas.
Ocean Township is its location, not its name.
Here is a (copyrighted) article from the NY Times when the theater first opened April 21, 1916. I can’t believe this theater lasted less than 20 years. This is the link to the article: View link
RIALTO THEATRE OPENS ITS DOORS; Luxurious Motion Picture House Begins Business in Times Square WITH FAIRBANKS AS STAR
Stageless Theatre, Handsomely Appointed and Seating 2,000, Has Replaced the Old Victoria.
Published: April 22, 1916
The Rialto Theatre, which for nearly a year has been building on the spot in Times Square where Hammerstein’s old Victoria used to stand, opened its doors last evening to a specially invited and very imposing audience. Today and daily hereafter the clamorous public will be admitted, and so another motion picture house has been added to the thousands which dot the map of the United States. But the difference between the queer, jiggly films that used to serve as chasers on the Keith programs fifteen years ago and the elaborate photoplays of 1916 is no greater than the difference between the evilly ventilated little nickelodeons and the luxurious theatre which was opened last night.
A handsomely appointed house dedicated entirely to the movies is thus established on one of the finest theatrical sites in the world. At every turn you found some grounds for the enthusiasm of the laureate of the occasion, who in the program burst forth as follows:
“With the peal of the grand organ, the fanfare of the orchestra, and the flash of thousands of iridescent lights, a new palace of polite pleasure for thousands is born tonight.”
The interior is done in ivory and gray with hangings of red. The dome over the balcony is lovely in coloring, a playground for innumerable lights of every hue. The very ushers are elegantly upholstered, each carrying an electric flash and a swaggerstick. There was some speculation last night as to whether these were to be used for prodding a sleepy patron or for hitting the critics over the knuckles, but a part of the Rialto Review showed the ushers in action. It seems they are trained in first aid work, and the swaggersticks are used in making tourniquets. The Review also transports you to the Rialto in Venice with Nevin’s lovely Venetian music as the appropriate accompaniment.
Like The Strand, which preceded it and has served to some degree as the model for all of the finer motion picture theatres in America, the Rialto is an expression of the taste and ideas of S. L. Rothapfel, its managing director. Here is a goodly auditorium, with seats downstairs and in the steep cantilever balcony to the number of 2,000. Here is a big orchestra, a program that includes some singing and then no end of movies, with two photoplays and a topical review of the sort that shows a Governor dedicating something somewhere and some children doing something somewhere else, and so on.
The Knickerbocker is a fine old theatre temporarily made over into a movie house, and even the Strand is so built that at very short notice it could be converted to the uses of opera or drama, but the Rialto is a motion picture house, pure and simple. It is stageless, the screen being placed boldly against the back wall of the theatre. It is built in the conviction that the American passion for the movies is here to stay.
Triangle films seem to be the central attraction at the Rialto and the opening bill contained an abundance of the Triangle’s trump cardâ€"Douglas Fairbanks. His Wild West, sagebrush photoplay, “The Good Bad Man,” might have been designed by Penrod Schofield with flashes by a sentimental chambermaid, but it is full to the brim with Fairbanks. His expressive face, radiant, toothsome smile, immense activity, and apparent disposition to romp all over the map make him a treasure to the cinema. No deserter from the spoken drama is more engaging in the new work than Douglas Fairbanks. May his shadow never grow less.