I just combed through the text on this page and could not find a single instance in which “Intracoastal” was mispelled, so I can’t see the relevance of your post.
Again, I believe that if something’s native format is film, then on film is how it should be exhibited. If that ratio is accurate, then I wouldn’t dismiss your venue as a “non-theater.” Cinema Paradiso, on the other hand, exhibits 3% film and %97 digital, and their “retrospective” programming is all straight DVD projection, menu screen navigation and all.
And yes, there’s other Emerging venues in my area, and I don’t even browse their schedules. They’re as good as non-existent to me.
Oops. Local chain Sunrise Cinemas (formerly known as Dreier Theaters) acquired this theater in the late 80s/early 90s, before, beginning in 2000, it began buying out a host of other South Florida cinemas that had been abandoned by their respective operators (Regal’s Las Olas multiplex, and GCC’s Deerfield 8, Fountains 8, Galleria 4, and Intracoastal 8, and AMC Mizner Park). They bit off more than they can chew and they’re now, like a lot of businesses that briefly thrived several years ago, in dire straits.
The Gateway, my favorite theater in Broward, gets more run-down by the year. Problems like aperture shadow have become very prevalent, and as with most exhibitors, particularly Sunrise Cinemas, the Gateway is home to a revolving door of managers, each less equipped to, say, address a simple problem like aperture shadow than the previous one. As of this post, the Gateway has been playing exclusively films in wide release, as Sunrise Cinemas seems to be slowly relinquishing their reputation for programming “Independent, Fine Art, & Foreign” films, with 99% of their screens currently running Hollywood fare. What bodes even worse for this chain’s future is that long-time “marketing director” Joel Thom (about whom I’d say more, except this site’s Comment Policy forbids anything resembling “personal attacks”) has been relieved of his relationship with the company.
Right now, the variety and state of motion picture exhibition in South Florida is pretty decrepit (like many of our movie theaters), and Sunrise Cinemas couldn’t embody this any better.
When the FLIFF announced its opening of this venue in 2000, my excitement could be contained only with great difficulty. The vogue of the “art cinema” in the tri-county area had been in decline for well over a decade, and the last remaining venues whose single screens were devoted exclusively to “art films” — the Alliance Cinema, the Astor Art Cinema, and the Absinthe House (nee Grove, then Alcazar) Cinematheque, and the very short-lived Mercury Theater, all in Miami-Dade — had begun to close, leaving only the major chains to book films in limited release. And even those bookings were of the most high-profile, commercially viable “art films.”
Unfortunately, the Cinema Paradiso has been a disappointment since its inception. At first, showing only 35mm presentations, the technical profile left much to be desired. Flimsy curtains allowed ample amounts of sunlight to leak in through this former church’s stained-glass windows, while bad acoustics and an inadequate sound system made audio muddy, distant, and often not audible. The screen itself was not properly masked, so regardless the aspect ratio, the image itself was always much smaller than the square footage of the screen.
In the eight or so years since it opened, Cinema Paradiso has much improved not only presentation, but also its aesthetic. The lobby and auditorium both boast a sort of pre-fab “luxuriousness” that feels consistent with the beach-baked brainlessness of the local culture. Sadly, while 35mm presentations now both look and sound mostly great (though the movable masking is still imperfect), they’re rare (rare as in, like, maybe no more than two a quarter). A few years ago, FLIFF partnered with the New York-based distribution company Emerging Pictures, whose business model is to take “small” films in limited release by other distributors and distribute them to less dependable markets, like South Florida, in a digital format. So, movies that are shot on 35mm and distributed in 35mm in places like New York, Chicago, Houston, Los Angeles, Boston, Seattle, etc, are electronically transmitted to venues like CP, who can cut costs by paying significantly less than they would for a print and the shipping of a print.
The funny thing is, CP often shows stuff digitally that has played in 35mm elsewhere in South Florida. Before the Devil Know You’re Dead, for instance, played digitally at CP while 35mm engagements continued at a few other Regal locations.
Digital projection, no matter how state of the art, cannot compare to 35mm. Furthermore, it’s my belief that, if something is shot on 35mm, it should be presented that way. Anything less is simply a cheat. Not only does CP present Emerging Pictures product, it also does arbitrary “retro” programming, all of which entails straight DVD projection, and the aspect ratio is often skewed (Casablanca, for instance, was once stretched out to 1.85:1, and Ingrid Bergman looked awfully fat).
A contact at Cinema Paradiso explained to me that they don’t have the revenue or the financial resources to continue showing 35mm presentations, yet attendance at this theater suggests otherwise. The flip-side, of course, is that the attendance also suggests that audiences (at least in South FL) either don’t care what format they’re shown, or can’t tell the difference.
So, CP has almost totally phased out 35mm projection which, in my view, relieves it from being a real movie theater, instead rendering it merely just a space in which people can see movies projected.
Are you sure you have the dates correct, SP? When my moviegoing career was just beginning, I saw films like Beetlejuice, Who Framed Roger Rabbit?, Short Circuit 2, and Big Business here, all in 1988, during which time they also ran Clean & Sober, Arthur 2: On the Rocks, and Tucker: A Man and His Dream. I recall, perhaps, a transition then to either a second-run house, an art cinema, or some combination of the two, shortly thereafter, as they played The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne, House of Games (both final-quarter 1987 releases), and The Manchurian Candidate (a first-quarter 1988 rerelease). I’m pretty sure I have the chronology correct. I wouldn’t have been paying attention to their bookings prior to the release of Beetlejuice.
But it stuns me to think there was ever an “art cinema” within walking distance of my childhood home, when now, there’s not a bona fide “art cinema” anywhere in South FL.
Much nicer since its upgrade. The only problem is how steep the stadium seating is. I went to see the only South Florida screening, on 35mm, of David Lynch’s ‘Inland Empire,’ and despite my $20 to $30 ticket price (don’t remember the cost, but the ticket price was almost as steep as the seating incline), I was given an assigned seat, way up top, which made sitting through this otherwise wonderful 3-hour film somewhat of a chore. Assigned seating for any film screening, unless you’re at high-profile film festival (many of which don’t even impose such a thing), is just snooty, and in this case — given the particularly uncultured region in which the Colony sits (Lynch didn’t trust this market for a regular run of his self-distributed film) — pretentious.
Just visited this theater for the first time, yesterday, for a restored print of ‘Once Upon a Time in the West,’ presented by the Miami International Film Festival. Architecturally, it seems an exact replica of the Tampa Theatre, which is to say, it’s awesome. The presentation, however, is lacking. The screen does not appear to have proper movable masking, aperture shadow was present through some of the film, and the screen is not quite wide enough to fully convey 2.35:1. Worst of all, however, the acoustics are very bad. A large wooden stage extends from the screen, and there’s not enough carpeting in this cavernous space to absorb the sonic stuff, rendering all audio tinny and echoey. I couldn’t make out about 15% of the dialogue in the I was watching. Management seemed overworked and preoccupied.
Yes, the former Mercede Cinema 4 will now be called “Plantation CrossRoads.” Awful name, if you ask me. Sounds more like a halfway house or substance abuse rehab facility than a movie theater.
Hi. I’m not selling any theaters, but I know of numerous cinemas in in the tri-county area that have closed in the past fifteen years. Perhaps some of them are still standing and inhabitable? I’m not sure which have been demolished and which have not been. www.cinematour.com is a good guide to what’s open and what’s closed, and is a fairly comprehensive resource.
Margate Twin (closed at least a decade ago)
Movies 8 Margate (closed approximately a decade ago)
GCC Riviera, Miami (four screens, closed approximately 1994)
Galleria Cinema, Fort Lauderdale (four screens, closed 2005)
GCC Mission Bay Plaza (closed in late 1990s; perhaps already converted into a fitness center)
Alliance Cinema (South Beach, probably now an office)
Astor Art Cinema (Coral Gables; I believe it’s now a live venue)
Alcazar Cinematheque/Absinthe House Cinematheque (Coral Gables; status unknown. Perhaps now a live theater)
Are you sure you’re not confusing this theater with another? There was the Grove Cinematheque on Alcazar Avenue, which closed in the late ‘80s/early '90s and reopened in the late '90s, under new ownership, as the Alcazar Cinematheque, which later became the Absinthe House Cinematheque, which has since closed and become a venue exclusively for live theatre (much like the Astor Cinema).
The Mercede Cinema’s experiments with “alternative” programming have all been mostly short-lived. The Mercede’s sister theater, the Gateway, has always played the bulk of the chain’s more limited releases. In 1996, the owner, Mitch Dreier, attempted an “early morning classics series” at both theaters, showing various “classics” on Tuesday (Gateway) and Thursday (Mercede) mornings. The films on the roster were, in chronological order, ‘My Fair Lady,’ ‘Driving Miss Daisy,’ ‘Dial M For Murder,’ ‘Hannah and Her Sisters,’ ‘High Noon,’ ‘The Searchers,’ ‘That Touch of Mink,’ ‘Camelot,’ and ‘House of Wax.’ I requested special permission from my high school principal to allow my Thursday absences to be excused so that I may enjoy this series.
Unfortunately, Dreier’s promotion of the series was too low-key, too grassroots. From what I recall, not a single ad was placed in the newspaper. Furthermore, Tuesday and Thursday morning screenings limit attendance mostly to retirees. As such, the series didn’t make it past ‘High Noon’ and was cancelled after only one showing of ‘The Searchers’ at the Gateway. I showed up to see it, excitedly (since I was saving this movie for the big screen), only to find the cinema desolate, with not a sign of employee life. After forty minutes, I and the other twelve people waiting decided to leave. I called the theater and it was explained to me that the series was cancelled. I was sent, by mail, a typewritten apology and one or two free passes which I never used, since the theater failed to subsequently book anything of interest.
From 1995 until about 2002, the only limited release I recall the Mercede getting was ‘Kiss Me Guido.’ In early 2003, the cinema became a second-run discount cinema, and that’s when, after scrapping all its digital sound equipment (which was sent to other locations in the now-expanded chain), it booked ‘Laurel Canyon,’ ‘How I Killed My Father,’ ‘The Company,’ ‘Talk To Her,’ ‘Far From Heaven,’ and others. While some of these drew crowds (‘Talk to Her’ and ‘Far From Heaven,’ namely), the Sunrise Cinemas (formerly Dreier Theaters) reverted the Mercede back to a first-run house, resuming its wholly uninspired programming.
What’s playing there right now?
Guess Who, The Ring Two, Miss Congeniality 2: Armed and Fabulous, and Robots.
The Land Before Time (I was a cub scout, and this was an event movie for my den), Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, Scrooged, Parenthood, Hot to Trot, Sneakers, Pet Sematary Two, Consenting Adults, Death Becomes Her, Honeymoon in Vegas, A Few Good Men, Hero (with Dustin Hoffman), Housesitter, Stay Tuned, A Stranger Among Us, The Cemetery Club, Mrs. Doubtfire, Babe, their aborted Tuesday Classics series from 1996 (where I saw My Fair Lady, Driving Miss Daisy, Dial M For Murder, Hannah and Her Sisters, and High Noon), In & Out, Gangs of New York, How I Killed My Father, Laurel Canyon, Far From Heaven, Talk To Her, and finally, The Company.
This was at the Tamarac Cinema, a 5-screen second-run venue in Tamarac. It’s located across the street from the King’s Point condominium community and draws a lot of senior citizens.
The second of the above link reports:
“A 69-year-old grandfather who fatally punched an older retiree as they stood in line for movie tickets pleaded guilty today to manslaughter.
Seymour Schuss got six months in jail, six months of house arrest and six-and-a-half years of probation. "
By the way, my post here was actually about the Muvico Palace in Boca, not the Muvico Parisian, although I’ve been to both and they are interchangeable.
I worked at Cinema Village at the time that photograph was taken (I may even be one of the silhouettes in the doorway), and I worked there for a good five months or more. I have somewhat of a sentimental attachment to the place, I guess, and I return to it every time I visit NYC.
I saw a film at Cinema Village the very night I moved to NYC. ‘Himalaya,’ one I’d wanted to see but which had not opened in my previous home of South FL. I went back a day later to see ‘Thomas in Love,’ and then a day or so later to see ‘The River.’ Cinema Village is independently programmed and it shows. Programmed by the founder of Empire Pictures, the features are hand-picked and the programming deliciously quirky in a way that the programming at the Angelika and the CC Village East is not. The lobby is unpretentious, too, unlike that for the Quad. So, you get the best of both worlds and cozy comfort to boot, the kind of comfort that’s hard to come by in Manhattan.
There’s a large 170-seat theater, and two smaller theaters, the “attic” and the “basement” houses, respectively seating 67 and 73 people. The desired location is the 170-theater, of course, which features remarkably crisp and powerful Dolby Digital sound. The other theater houses, though, are cozy enough, and the lobby — while tiny — is the right size to be completely hijacked by the smell and sound of popping popcorn. Purchasing a bag will be hard to resist.
Cinema Village was the only theater in the country, I believe, to show ‘Ginger Snaps,’ and plays a lot of other stuff exclusively, making it a singular venue. Employees are well-chosen, too (I speak from a not entirely objective position!), while the same cannot be said for the City Cinemas venues or even the Quad.
The programming at Film Forum can’t be beat. It’s the best in the country, rivaled perhaps only by Los Angeles’s American Cinematheque at the Egyptian Theater. The concurrence of new films with retrospective films is absolutely brilliant, keeping this as a first-run venue while declaring the immortal relevance of past cinema.
It’s not the greatest place in the world to watch a movie, though. Far from it. It’s great seeing stuff on 35mm, and Film Forum almost always gets great prints. But the theaters are so small, it’s hardly a cinematic experience, nor is it very intimate. Spaces are narrow and screenings usually sell out, so there’s no leg room — you have to sit with both legs together, feet on the ground — and it’s easy to knock elbows or shoulders with the patron seated next to you. Furthermore, during the winter, the only option for stashing your winter coats is under the seat.
I’m glad I had the opportunity to see pristine prints of “Days of Heaven” and “Bound For Glory” while I lived in NYC, but the cramped atmosphere of Film Forum also cramped the epic grandeur of these films.
Also, the projected image has a foamy-looking texture, for some reason. Perhaps it’s the screens themselves.
Also, films are occasionally out-of-focus and the floor staff and/or management will argue the point and refuse to fix the problem. This happened on a few occasions, notably with ‘The Hidden Fortress,’ which, to date, I have not seen but would have had Film Forum sharply focused it.
Now, the good stuff. Film Forum is one of the only venues to regularly program silent films (at least one retrospective per year will include silent films), and live piano accompaniment is usually provided. Sound is usually good, the best available prints are nearly always obtained, and the lobby is attractive, with some nice food behind the concession counter and some even nicer people.
It’s also quite a bargain, if you’re a member. If I recall correctly, as a member, I’d get two-films on a double-bill for only $5. That means, brilliant prints of ‘Imitation of Life’ and ‘Written on the Wind’ for only five dollars. You’ll pay about the same price at the New Beverly in Los Angeles for ratty old prints, creaky seats and even creakier sound, for the micro-luxury you get at Film Forum.
I lived in New York City all of 14 months, before returning home to South Florida to start school. While in NYC, I devoured movies, seeing typically over a dozen a week. The only time I ever left the New York City area was to see Peter Greenaway’s ‘The Baby of Mâcon’ at the Cinema Arts Centre in Huntington.
I took the LIRR to Huntington and then a cab to the CAC, which is part of a larger facility for senior citizens. I felt, at all times, as though I were a guest at a seniors' resort, but that was ok. My anticipation of seeing the Greenaway film upstaged any craving for atmosphere.
The print of the film, which was made in the early ‘90s and never released in the US, was imported from France and being shown in a theater with a capacity for maybe 70 people. It felt more like a meeting room than a cinema (there are other, larger auditoriums) and I had to ask if indeed the film was being shown on 35mm.
The film began. The movie, set in 17th century France, stars Julia Ormond as a wicked virgin who claims her mother’s newborn infant as her own by virgin birth, chains her mother in the basement, and sells the baby’s blessings. Through a nasty turn of events, Ormond’s character is sentenced to die by the Church, but given that she’s a virgin, the church cannot execute her. So, they first seek to devirginize her by having her raped by 113 men.
The audience with which I sat was 97% elderly. The only other guy, aside from me, under 60 had to tell an elderly couple behind me to “shut the fuck up” for talking during the feature. Miraculously, nobody walked out during this rather harrowing film depicting some depraved things. In fact, a good 20% of the audience fell asleep.
That’s Cinema Arts Centre, in a nutshell.
The programming here, though, is absolutely excellent.
The exterior and interior of this theater, like that for other ambitious Muvico venues, are very prefab and cheap-looking. They’re cut-rate reproductions. The employees, too, are cheap and cut-rate. Your typical multiplex lot, scraped from some ghetto; ill-mannered, impolite, unhelpful, and mostly off in their own world somewhere. Management is not any better. Technical problems are slow to be fixed here.
However, I’ve had some good experiences here, too. There usually aren’t any technical problems, and the last time there was, the manager was polite and attentive. Moreover, projection is typically on-the-mark, and the sound is dynamic and up to contemporary standards. The mostly commercial offerings are spiced with independent and foreign films, although usually only films that are being mass-marketed and have already proven profitable in other area theaters.
I haven’t sampled the “Premier” experience here, because I am a student and can’t afforded it. Plus, rubbing shoulders with the Boca Raton would-be elite is not my bag. This theater offers valet parking and an “opulent” dining experience, if indeed you fancy yourself deserving of such.
Electronic ticketing machines allow the convenience of bypassing box office lines.
While I am not fond of the Muvico chain, this is one of its better venues — perhaps due to its tonier clientele — and have no qualms about seeing movies here.
I’ve been to the Egyptian Theater in Los Angeles and the Ziegfeld in New York. Both theaters combined would not be nearly as beautiful as the shimmering Tampa Theatre. Simply stepping inside is itself an event. The selection offered in the lobby, which includes beer on tap, is as dazzling as the twinkling night-sky ceiling, which is as marvelous as the working Mighty Wurlitzer pipe organ, demonstrations of which precede Sunday Classics screenings. I’ve driven up to Tampa from Fort Lauderdale for showings here, in the past, and would do so again in a heartbeat.
Unfortunately, the screen itself is not properly masked, and so there are blank patches of screen depending upon the aspect ratio for the given film. Considering the very experience of watching a movie at this venue, however, it’s a nominal qualm.
This is the oldest theater in the South Florida-based Sunrise Cinemas chain, which was initially known as Dreier Theaters. The Mercede is tucked away behind the Mercede shopping plaza and has been there since the 1970s. It’s an intimate four-plex in a very nondescript building whose parking is limited, although not a problem since the theater is rarely packed. The theater’s main attribute is that it’s cozy. A good theater to which to bring a girl with whom you can make out in the back. The lobby is small, and so the smell of popcorn and hot dogs pleasantly fills the air, making this smell like a cinema. Projection is good, although two of the houses have only monaural sound. Watching features in these houses is not advised.
I worked here very briefly and can attest to the cleanliness of the projection booth. A union projectionist, at least at the time I worked here, mans the booth part-time and projection staff is well-trained. The floor staff, however, is varied. At times, as a patron, I was impressed by the staff. At other times, particularly as an employee, I was frightened by the sleaziness of the given crop.
From 1990 until about 1997, the Fountains 8 — within 3 miles of my home — was my favorite place to simply watch a movie. During this time, it was run by the General Cinemas Corporation (GCC), which withdrew from South Florida completely a few years later. When GCC ran this venue, and even now (it’s currently run by Sunrise Cinemas, a South Florida-based chain), the selection was always limited to commercial Hollywood films. One of the houses (auditorium # 8), however, was THX-certified, and the audio experience in this auditorium, as well as in the other large house (#1), was aurally orgasmic. Screens in these two houses were large, flat, and dominating, with the masking opening for ‘scope prints automatically either after or during the coming attraction trailers. Projection was crisp and clean, with the image remarkably fluid — at other venues, particularly those in the AMC and Regal chains, the image is often grainy, also suffering from curved screens.
The only problem with the Fountains, during the time it was run by GCC and still, was that four of its 8 houses were monaural. I avoided seeing films in these houses whenever I could. As time wore on, so did the theater, and a musty odor became pervasive. GCC withdrew from it in 2000, and the theater sat dormat for a couple of years before being rescued by Sunrise Cinemas, which is currently doing an admirable job of managing it, although they have not carried out any noticeable upgrades.
The Intracoastal 8 was originally a General Cinemas (GCC) location, until it closed and sat dormant for about four years. The GCC locations were mostly excellent, although, as with many of their 8-plexes, four of the auditoriums had stereo capabilities, while the other four were monaural. Since the Sunrise Cinemas chain reopened this former GCC location and others, it has made no attempt to upgrade the audio, and so four of the houses are still in monaural. Tens of thousands, if not more, in post-production dollars are spent in mixing and perfecting multi-channel soundtracks, and therefore, exhibitors should respect the art of multi-channel audio presentation by presenting it as such.
The GCC locations, in my opinion, featured the best projection in town, and had perfectly flat screens with durable-looking movable masking. The Intracoastal 8 showcases a fairly pleasing selection of films, balancing commercial and limited releases, and is overall a good venue, conducive to a more cinematic experience than some of larger, more impersonal megaplexes in the area. My recommendation, though: see a film in one of the four larger, stereo-equipped houses, or not at all.
When it opened in 1998, the Las Olas Riverfront cinema was a 23-screen, state-of-the-art multiplex run by Regal Cinemas. In only four years, it went sharply downhill, as I guess profits were unsatisfactory and therefore management and floor employees were scarce. I visited for a showing of ‘Town & Country’ one day and had an altercation with a disruptive patron who had wandered in from another film. It took me over five minutes to find an employee, by which point the offender had vanished after tossing my belongings from my seat to the aisle.
Sunrise Cinemas, a South Florida-based chain, relieved Regal of the chore of running this theater, pared the venue down to only 15 screens, and is hardly doing a better job. I rarely go to this theater — only when the film of choice is not playing elsewhere — but every time I do, I experience some sort of technical problem, be it an audio problem or a projection problem. When I went to see ‘Donnie Darko: The Director’s Cut’ with a girlfriend and a friend, the anamorphic film was being projected as a spherical 1.85:1 film, thus distorting the image by making it too narrow. I had to complain three times before this mistake was corrected, and this introduced conflict to an otherwise rewarding social gathering.
The managers at this theater, as employed by Sunrise Cinemas, are bullies, plain and simple. Unapologetic at best and bellicose at worst, they’re the bottom of the barrel of uptight suburban trash and I’d sooner miss a film entirely than ever go to this venue again.
It’s a shame this theater no longer exists. Just as I became old enough to drive and acquired a license, it closed, so I was largely unable to capitalize on it. But based upon my one visit to it in 1995, to see “Hotel Sorrento,” the theater was impressive, with bright projection, movable masking, and crisp audio, although the surround speakers were located exclusively on one side of the auditorium (I believe it was the right side). The lobby was pleasant and the atmosphere was nice, but the main attraction was this venue’s programming. Lots of South Florida exclusives here, from Bille August’s “Jerusalem,” to the aforementioned “Hotel Sorrento,” to Theo Van Gogh’s “1900,” to the reissue of “Last Tango in Paris,” and so forth.
In its final days, it became more mainstream, holding onto and milking whatever it could get from crossover hits like “Chocolat” and “All About My Mother” — stuff you could see at any multiplex. This is almost always a bad omen for theaters like this. Too bad. Now that Astor and many theaters like it (the Alliance) have disappeared from South Florida, there is a tangible void in the variety of film programming down here. Megaplexes like the Regal South Beach 18 may play mass-distributed crossover “indies” and foreign films, but you won’t find the kind of alternatives there that were offered at the Astor.
Strange theater. Two of the houses have monaural sound, so I avoid seeing anything showing in them. The two larger houses are very long and, when dark, cavernous. The audio in the stereo houses is rather dodgy, and the acoustics leave a bit to be desired. Having been inherited from General Cinemas, however, the screens are nice and flat, of decent size, have fairly accurate movable masking, and projection is usually crisp and clean. In its own queer way, this theater is quite cozy and good for a rainy day.
LM,
I just combed through the text on this page and could not find a single instance in which “Intracoastal” was mispelled, so I can’t see the relevance of your post.
Again, I believe that if something’s native format is film, then on film is how it should be exhibited. If that ratio is accurate, then I wouldn’t dismiss your venue as a “non-theater.” Cinema Paradiso, on the other hand, exhibits 3% film and %97 digital, and their “retrospective” programming is all straight DVD projection, menu screen navigation and all.
And yes, there’s other Emerging venues in my area, and I don’t even browse their schedules. They’re as good as non-existent to me.
Oops. Local chain Sunrise Cinemas (formerly known as Dreier Theaters) acquired this theater in the late 80s/early 90s, before, beginning in 2000, it began buying out a host of other South Florida cinemas that had been abandoned by their respective operators (Regal’s Las Olas multiplex, and GCC’s Deerfield 8, Fountains 8, Galleria 4, and Intracoastal 8, and AMC Mizner Park). They bit off more than they can chew and they’re now, like a lot of businesses that briefly thrived several years ago, in dire straits.
The Gateway, my favorite theater in Broward, gets more run-down by the year. Problems like aperture shadow have become very prevalent, and as with most exhibitors, particularly Sunrise Cinemas, the Gateway is home to a revolving door of managers, each less equipped to, say, address a simple problem like aperture shadow than the previous one. As of this post, the Gateway has been playing exclusively films in wide release, as Sunrise Cinemas seems to be slowly relinquishing their reputation for programming “Independent, Fine Art, & Foreign” films, with 99% of their screens currently running Hollywood fare. What bodes even worse for this chain’s future is that long-time “marketing director” Joel Thom (about whom I’d say more, except this site’s Comment Policy forbids anything resembling “personal attacks”) has been relieved of his relationship with the company.
Right now, the variety and state of motion picture exhibition in South Florida is pretty decrepit (like many of our movie theaters), and Sunrise Cinemas couldn’t embody this any better.
When the FLIFF announced its opening of this venue in 2000, my excitement could be contained only with great difficulty. The vogue of the “art cinema” in the tri-county area had been in decline for well over a decade, and the last remaining venues whose single screens were devoted exclusively to “art films” — the Alliance Cinema, the Astor Art Cinema, and the Absinthe House (nee Grove, then Alcazar) Cinematheque, and the very short-lived Mercury Theater, all in Miami-Dade — had begun to close, leaving only the major chains to book films in limited release. And even those bookings were of the most high-profile, commercially viable “art films.”
Unfortunately, the Cinema Paradiso has been a disappointment since its inception. At first, showing only 35mm presentations, the technical profile left much to be desired. Flimsy curtains allowed ample amounts of sunlight to leak in through this former church’s stained-glass windows, while bad acoustics and an inadequate sound system made audio muddy, distant, and often not audible. The screen itself was not properly masked, so regardless the aspect ratio, the image itself was always much smaller than the square footage of the screen.
In the eight or so years since it opened, Cinema Paradiso has much improved not only presentation, but also its aesthetic. The lobby and auditorium both boast a sort of pre-fab “luxuriousness” that feels consistent with the beach-baked brainlessness of the local culture. Sadly, while 35mm presentations now both look and sound mostly great (though the movable masking is still imperfect), they’re rare (rare as in, like, maybe no more than two a quarter). A few years ago, FLIFF partnered with the New York-based distribution company Emerging Pictures, whose business model is to take “small” films in limited release by other distributors and distribute them to less dependable markets, like South Florida, in a digital format. So, movies that are shot on 35mm and distributed in 35mm in places like New York, Chicago, Houston, Los Angeles, Boston, Seattle, etc, are electronically transmitted to venues like CP, who can cut costs by paying significantly less than they would for a print and the shipping of a print.
The funny thing is, CP often shows stuff digitally that has played in 35mm elsewhere in South Florida. Before the Devil Know You’re Dead, for instance, played digitally at CP while 35mm engagements continued at a few other Regal locations.
Digital projection, no matter how state of the art, cannot compare to 35mm. Furthermore, it’s my belief that, if something is shot on 35mm, it should be presented that way. Anything less is simply a cheat. Not only does CP present Emerging Pictures product, it also does arbitrary “retro” programming, all of which entails straight DVD projection, and the aspect ratio is often skewed (Casablanca, for instance, was once stretched out to 1.85:1, and Ingrid Bergman looked awfully fat).
A contact at Cinema Paradiso explained to me that they don’t have the revenue or the financial resources to continue showing 35mm presentations, yet attendance at this theater suggests otherwise. The flip-side, of course, is that the attendance also suggests that audiences (at least in South FL) either don’t care what format they’re shown, or can’t tell the difference.
So, CP has almost totally phased out 35mm projection which, in my view, relieves it from being a real movie theater, instead rendering it merely just a space in which people can see movies projected.
Are you sure you have the dates correct, SP? When my moviegoing career was just beginning, I saw films like Beetlejuice, Who Framed Roger Rabbit?, Short Circuit 2, and Big Business here, all in 1988, during which time they also ran Clean & Sober, Arthur 2: On the Rocks, and Tucker: A Man and His Dream. I recall, perhaps, a transition then to either a second-run house, an art cinema, or some combination of the two, shortly thereafter, as they played The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne, House of Games (both final-quarter 1987 releases), and The Manchurian Candidate (a first-quarter 1988 rerelease). I’m pretty sure I have the chronology correct. I wouldn’t have been paying attention to their bookings prior to the release of Beetlejuice.
But it stuns me to think there was ever an “art cinema” within walking distance of my childhood home, when now, there’s not a bona fide “art cinema” anywhere in South FL.
Much nicer since its upgrade. The only problem is how steep the stadium seating is. I went to see the only South Florida screening, on 35mm, of David Lynch’s ‘Inland Empire,’ and despite my $20 to $30 ticket price (don’t remember the cost, but the ticket price was almost as steep as the seating incline), I was given an assigned seat, way up top, which made sitting through this otherwise wonderful 3-hour film somewhat of a chore. Assigned seating for any film screening, unless you’re at high-profile film festival (many of which don’t even impose such a thing), is just snooty, and in this case — given the particularly uncultured region in which the Colony sits (Lynch didn’t trust this market for a regular run of his self-distributed film) — pretentious.
Just visited this theater for the first time, yesterday, for a restored print of ‘Once Upon a Time in the West,’ presented by the Miami International Film Festival. Architecturally, it seems an exact replica of the Tampa Theatre, which is to say, it’s awesome. The presentation, however, is lacking. The screen does not appear to have proper movable masking, aperture shadow was present through some of the film, and the screen is not quite wide enough to fully convey 2.35:1. Worst of all, however, the acoustics are very bad. A large wooden stage extends from the screen, and there’s not enough carpeting in this cavernous space to absorb the sonic stuff, rendering all audio tinny and echoey. I couldn’t make out about 15% of the dialogue in the I was watching. Management seemed overworked and preoccupied.
Yes, the former Mercede Cinema 4 will now be called “Plantation CrossRoads.” Awful name, if you ask me. Sounds more like a halfway house or substance abuse rehab facility than a movie theater.
Hi. I’m not selling any theaters, but I know of numerous cinemas in in the tri-county area that have closed in the past fifteen years. Perhaps some of them are still standing and inhabitable? I’m not sure which have been demolished and which have not been. www.cinematour.com is a good guide to what’s open and what’s closed, and is a fairly comprehensive resource.
Are you sure you’re not confusing this theater with another? There was the Grove Cinematheque on Alcazar Avenue, which closed in the late ‘80s/early '90s and reopened in the late '90s, under new ownership, as the Alcazar Cinematheque, which later became the Absinthe House Cinematheque, which has since closed and become a venue exclusively for live theatre (much like the Astor Cinema).
Irv,
The Mercede Cinema’s experiments with “alternative” programming have all been mostly short-lived. The Mercede’s sister theater, the Gateway, has always played the bulk of the chain’s more limited releases. In 1996, the owner, Mitch Dreier, attempted an “early morning classics series” at both theaters, showing various “classics” on Tuesday (Gateway) and Thursday (Mercede) mornings. The films on the roster were, in chronological order, ‘My Fair Lady,’ ‘Driving Miss Daisy,’ ‘Dial M For Murder,’ ‘Hannah and Her Sisters,’ ‘High Noon,’ ‘The Searchers,’ ‘That Touch of Mink,’ ‘Camelot,’ and ‘House of Wax.’ I requested special permission from my high school principal to allow my Thursday absences to be excused so that I may enjoy this series.
Unfortunately, Dreier’s promotion of the series was too low-key, too grassroots. From what I recall, not a single ad was placed in the newspaper. Furthermore, Tuesday and Thursday morning screenings limit attendance mostly to retirees. As such, the series didn’t make it past ‘High Noon’ and was cancelled after only one showing of ‘The Searchers’ at the Gateway. I showed up to see it, excitedly (since I was saving this movie for the big screen), only to find the cinema desolate, with not a sign of employee life. After forty minutes, I and the other twelve people waiting decided to leave. I called the theater and it was explained to me that the series was cancelled. I was sent, by mail, a typewritten apology and one or two free passes which I never used, since the theater failed to subsequently book anything of interest.
From 1995 until about 2002, the only limited release I recall the Mercede getting was ‘Kiss Me Guido.’ In early 2003, the cinema became a second-run discount cinema, and that’s when, after scrapping all its digital sound equipment (which was sent to other locations in the now-expanded chain), it booked ‘Laurel Canyon,’ ‘How I Killed My Father,’ ‘The Company,’ ‘Talk To Her,’ ‘Far From Heaven,’ and others. While some of these drew crowds (‘Talk to Her’ and ‘Far From Heaven,’ namely), the Sunrise Cinemas (formerly Dreier Theaters) reverted the Mercede back to a first-run house, resuming its wholly uninspired programming.
What’s playing there right now?
Guess Who, The Ring Two, Miss Congeniality 2: Armed and Fabulous, and Robots.
Awesome post, Irv.
My list might be less impressive:
The Land Before Time (I was a cub scout, and this was an event movie for my den), Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, Scrooged, Parenthood, Hot to Trot, Sneakers, Pet Sematary Two, Consenting Adults, Death Becomes Her, Honeymoon in Vegas, A Few Good Men, Hero (with Dustin Hoffman), Housesitter, Stay Tuned, A Stranger Among Us, The Cemetery Club, Mrs. Doubtfire, Babe, their aborted Tuesday Classics series from 1996 (where I saw My Fair Lady, Driving Miss Daisy, Dial M For Murder, Hannah and Her Sisters, and High Noon), In & Out, Gangs of New York, How I Killed My Father, Laurel Canyon, Far From Heaven, Talk To Her, and finally, The Company.
And yes, a few others I can’t recall.
http://www.dfw.com/mld/miamiherald/7810998.htm
View link
This was at the Tamarac Cinema, a 5-screen second-run venue in Tamarac. It’s located across the street from the King’s Point condominium community and draws a lot of senior citizens.
The second of the above link reports:
“A 69-year-old grandfather who fatally punched an older retiree as they stood in line for movie tickets pleaded guilty today to manslaughter.
Seymour Schuss got six months in jail, six months of house arrest and six-and-a-half years of probation. "
By the way, my post here was actually about the Muvico Palace in Boca, not the Muvico Parisian, although I’ve been to both and they are interchangeable.
I worked at Cinema Village at the time that photograph was taken (I may even be one of the silhouettes in the doorway), and I worked there for a good five months or more. I have somewhat of a sentimental attachment to the place, I guess, and I return to it every time I visit NYC.
I saw a film at Cinema Village the very night I moved to NYC. ‘Himalaya,’ one I’d wanted to see but which had not opened in my previous home of South FL. I went back a day later to see ‘Thomas in Love,’ and then a day or so later to see ‘The River.’ Cinema Village is independently programmed and it shows. Programmed by the founder of Empire Pictures, the features are hand-picked and the programming deliciously quirky in a way that the programming at the Angelika and the CC Village East is not. The lobby is unpretentious, too, unlike that for the Quad. So, you get the best of both worlds and cozy comfort to boot, the kind of comfort that’s hard to come by in Manhattan.
There’s a large 170-seat theater, and two smaller theaters, the “attic” and the “basement” houses, respectively seating 67 and 73 people. The desired location is the 170-theater, of course, which features remarkably crisp and powerful Dolby Digital sound. The other theater houses, though, are cozy enough, and the lobby — while tiny — is the right size to be completely hijacked by the smell and sound of popping popcorn. Purchasing a bag will be hard to resist.
Cinema Village was the only theater in the country, I believe, to show ‘Ginger Snaps,’ and plays a lot of other stuff exclusively, making it a singular venue. Employees are well-chosen, too (I speak from a not entirely objective position!), while the same cannot be said for the City Cinemas venues or even the Quad.
The programming at Film Forum can’t be beat. It’s the best in the country, rivaled perhaps only by Los Angeles’s American Cinematheque at the Egyptian Theater. The concurrence of new films with retrospective films is absolutely brilliant, keeping this as a first-run venue while declaring the immortal relevance of past cinema.
It’s not the greatest place in the world to watch a movie, though. Far from it. It’s great seeing stuff on 35mm, and Film Forum almost always gets great prints. But the theaters are so small, it’s hardly a cinematic experience, nor is it very intimate. Spaces are narrow and screenings usually sell out, so there’s no leg room — you have to sit with both legs together, feet on the ground — and it’s easy to knock elbows or shoulders with the patron seated next to you. Furthermore, during the winter, the only option for stashing your winter coats is under the seat.
I’m glad I had the opportunity to see pristine prints of “Days of Heaven” and “Bound For Glory” while I lived in NYC, but the cramped atmosphere of Film Forum also cramped the epic grandeur of these films.
Also, the projected image has a foamy-looking texture, for some reason. Perhaps it’s the screens themselves.
Also, films are occasionally out-of-focus and the floor staff and/or management will argue the point and refuse to fix the problem. This happened on a few occasions, notably with ‘The Hidden Fortress,’ which, to date, I have not seen but would have had Film Forum sharply focused it.
Now, the good stuff. Film Forum is one of the only venues to regularly program silent films (at least one retrospective per year will include silent films), and live piano accompaniment is usually provided. Sound is usually good, the best available prints are nearly always obtained, and the lobby is attractive, with some nice food behind the concession counter and some even nicer people.
It’s also quite a bargain, if you’re a member. If I recall correctly, as a member, I’d get two-films on a double-bill for only $5. That means, brilliant prints of ‘Imitation of Life’ and ‘Written on the Wind’ for only five dollars. You’ll pay about the same price at the New Beverly in Los Angeles for ratty old prints, creaky seats and even creakier sound, for the micro-luxury you get at Film Forum.
In summary, this is a New York City staple.
Funny story:
I lived in New York City all of 14 months, before returning home to South Florida to start school. While in NYC, I devoured movies, seeing typically over a dozen a week. The only time I ever left the New York City area was to see Peter Greenaway’s ‘The Baby of Mâcon’ at the Cinema Arts Centre in Huntington.
I took the LIRR to Huntington and then a cab to the CAC, which is part of a larger facility for senior citizens. I felt, at all times, as though I were a guest at a seniors' resort, but that was ok. My anticipation of seeing the Greenaway film upstaged any craving for atmosphere.
The print of the film, which was made in the early ‘90s and never released in the US, was imported from France and being shown in a theater with a capacity for maybe 70 people. It felt more like a meeting room than a cinema (there are other, larger auditoriums) and I had to ask if indeed the film was being shown on 35mm.
The film began. The movie, set in 17th century France, stars Julia Ormond as a wicked virgin who claims her mother’s newborn infant as her own by virgin birth, chains her mother in the basement, and sells the baby’s blessings. Through a nasty turn of events, Ormond’s character is sentenced to die by the Church, but given that she’s a virgin, the church cannot execute her. So, they first seek to devirginize her by having her raped by 113 men.
The audience with which I sat was 97% elderly. The only other guy, aside from me, under 60 had to tell an elderly couple behind me to “shut the fuck up” for talking during the feature. Miraculously, nobody walked out during this rather harrowing film depicting some depraved things. In fact, a good 20% of the audience fell asleep.
That’s Cinema Arts Centre, in a nutshell.
The programming here, though, is absolutely excellent.
The exterior and interior of this theater, like that for other ambitious Muvico venues, are very prefab and cheap-looking. They’re cut-rate reproductions. The employees, too, are cheap and cut-rate. Your typical multiplex lot, scraped from some ghetto; ill-mannered, impolite, unhelpful, and mostly off in their own world somewhere. Management is not any better. Technical problems are slow to be fixed here.
However, I’ve had some good experiences here, too. There usually aren’t any technical problems, and the last time there was, the manager was polite and attentive. Moreover, projection is typically on-the-mark, and the sound is dynamic and up to contemporary standards. The mostly commercial offerings are spiced with independent and foreign films, although usually only films that are being mass-marketed and have already proven profitable in other area theaters.
I haven’t sampled the “Premier” experience here, because I am a student and can’t afforded it. Plus, rubbing shoulders with the Boca Raton would-be elite is not my bag. This theater offers valet parking and an “opulent” dining experience, if indeed you fancy yourself deserving of such.
Electronic ticketing machines allow the convenience of bypassing box office lines.
While I am not fond of the Muvico chain, this is one of its better venues — perhaps due to its tonier clientele — and have no qualms about seeing movies here.
I’ve been to the Egyptian Theater in Los Angeles and the Ziegfeld in New York. Both theaters combined would not be nearly as beautiful as the shimmering Tampa Theatre. Simply stepping inside is itself an event. The selection offered in the lobby, which includes beer on tap, is as dazzling as the twinkling night-sky ceiling, which is as marvelous as the working Mighty Wurlitzer pipe organ, demonstrations of which precede Sunday Classics screenings. I’ve driven up to Tampa from Fort Lauderdale for showings here, in the past, and would do so again in a heartbeat.
Unfortunately, the screen itself is not properly masked, and so there are blank patches of screen depending upon the aspect ratio for the given film. Considering the very experience of watching a movie at this venue, however, it’s a nominal qualm.
This is the oldest theater in the South Florida-based Sunrise Cinemas chain, which was initially known as Dreier Theaters. The Mercede is tucked away behind the Mercede shopping plaza and has been there since the 1970s. It’s an intimate four-plex in a very nondescript building whose parking is limited, although not a problem since the theater is rarely packed. The theater’s main attribute is that it’s cozy. A good theater to which to bring a girl with whom you can make out in the back. The lobby is small, and so the smell of popcorn and hot dogs pleasantly fills the air, making this smell like a cinema. Projection is good, although two of the houses have only monaural sound. Watching features in these houses is not advised.
I worked here very briefly and can attest to the cleanliness of the projection booth. A union projectionist, at least at the time I worked here, mans the booth part-time and projection staff is well-trained. The floor staff, however, is varied. At times, as a patron, I was impressed by the staff. At other times, particularly as an employee, I was frightened by the sleaziness of the given crop.
From 1990 until about 1997, the Fountains 8 — within 3 miles of my home — was my favorite place to simply watch a movie. During this time, it was run by the General Cinemas Corporation (GCC), which withdrew from South Florida completely a few years later. When GCC ran this venue, and even now (it’s currently run by Sunrise Cinemas, a South Florida-based chain), the selection was always limited to commercial Hollywood films. One of the houses (auditorium # 8), however, was THX-certified, and the audio experience in this auditorium, as well as in the other large house (#1), was aurally orgasmic. Screens in these two houses were large, flat, and dominating, with the masking opening for ‘scope prints automatically either after or during the coming attraction trailers. Projection was crisp and clean, with the image remarkably fluid — at other venues, particularly those in the AMC and Regal chains, the image is often grainy, also suffering from curved screens.
The only problem with the Fountains, during the time it was run by GCC and still, was that four of its 8 houses were monaural. I avoided seeing films in these houses whenever I could. As time wore on, so did the theater, and a musty odor became pervasive. GCC withdrew from it in 2000, and the theater sat dormat for a couple of years before being rescued by Sunrise Cinemas, which is currently doing an admirable job of managing it, although they have not carried out any noticeable upgrades.
This is a charming, atmospheric little venue that shows some wear, but still offers some appealing art deco flavor.
I have not seen any live theater here, only films (within the past year), and while projection is decent, the sound system is horrible.
The Intracoastal 8 was originally a General Cinemas (GCC) location, until it closed and sat dormant for about four years. The GCC locations were mostly excellent, although, as with many of their 8-plexes, four of the auditoriums had stereo capabilities, while the other four were monaural. Since the Sunrise Cinemas chain reopened this former GCC location and others, it has made no attempt to upgrade the audio, and so four of the houses are still in monaural. Tens of thousands, if not more, in post-production dollars are spent in mixing and perfecting multi-channel soundtracks, and therefore, exhibitors should respect the art of multi-channel audio presentation by presenting it as such.
The GCC locations, in my opinion, featured the best projection in town, and had perfectly flat screens with durable-looking movable masking. The Intracoastal 8 showcases a fairly pleasing selection of films, balancing commercial and limited releases, and is overall a good venue, conducive to a more cinematic experience than some of larger, more impersonal megaplexes in the area. My recommendation, though: see a film in one of the four larger, stereo-equipped houses, or not at all.
When it opened in 1998, the Las Olas Riverfront cinema was a 23-screen, state-of-the-art multiplex run by Regal Cinemas. In only four years, it went sharply downhill, as I guess profits were unsatisfactory and therefore management and floor employees were scarce. I visited for a showing of ‘Town & Country’ one day and had an altercation with a disruptive patron who had wandered in from another film. It took me over five minutes to find an employee, by which point the offender had vanished after tossing my belongings from my seat to the aisle.
Sunrise Cinemas, a South Florida-based chain, relieved Regal of the chore of running this theater, pared the venue down to only 15 screens, and is hardly doing a better job. I rarely go to this theater — only when the film of choice is not playing elsewhere — but every time I do, I experience some sort of technical problem, be it an audio problem or a projection problem. When I went to see ‘Donnie Darko: The Director’s Cut’ with a girlfriend and a friend, the anamorphic film was being projected as a spherical 1.85:1 film, thus distorting the image by making it too narrow. I had to complain three times before this mistake was corrected, and this introduced conflict to an otherwise rewarding social gathering.
The managers at this theater, as employed by Sunrise Cinemas, are bullies, plain and simple. Unapologetic at best and bellicose at worst, they’re the bottom of the barrel of uptight suburban trash and I’d sooner miss a film entirely than ever go to this venue again.
It’s a shame this theater no longer exists. Just as I became old enough to drive and acquired a license, it closed, so I was largely unable to capitalize on it. But based upon my one visit to it in 1995, to see “Hotel Sorrento,” the theater was impressive, with bright projection, movable masking, and crisp audio, although the surround speakers were located exclusively on one side of the auditorium (I believe it was the right side). The lobby was pleasant and the atmosphere was nice, but the main attraction was this venue’s programming. Lots of South Florida exclusives here, from Bille August’s “Jerusalem,” to the aforementioned “Hotel Sorrento,” to Theo Van Gogh’s “1900,” to the reissue of “Last Tango in Paris,” and so forth.
In its final days, it became more mainstream, holding onto and milking whatever it could get from crossover hits like “Chocolat” and “All About My Mother” — stuff you could see at any multiplex. This is almost always a bad omen for theaters like this. Too bad. Now that Astor and many theaters like it (the Alliance) have disappeared from South Florida, there is a tangible void in the variety of film programming down here. Megaplexes like the Regal South Beach 18 may play mass-distributed crossover “indies” and foreign films, but you won’t find the kind of alternatives there that were offered at the Astor.
Strange theater. Two of the houses have monaural sound, so I avoid seeing anything showing in them. The two larger houses are very long and, when dark, cavernous. The audio in the stereo houses is rather dodgy, and the acoustics leave a bit to be desired. Having been inherited from General Cinemas, however, the screens are nice and flat, of decent size, have fairly accurate movable masking, and projection is usually crisp and clean. In its own queer way, this theater is quite cozy and good for a rainy day.