I am one of the persons who tried to save the Indian Hills theater in Omaha. Although our efforts came to naught, I am gratified that Mr. Jim Fields made such a moving and transcendent film about the efforts of our group and of other preservationists like us. I urge everyone to view his movie. It is excellent.
Here is an article about the Indian Hills theater that I wrote:
Saving The Indian Hills
The bells of the troika jingled all around me as I rode with Yuri to Varikino. I was a young lad of 5 and had never before been to Russia. I was with my brother Ron at the Indian Hills Theater watching “Dr. Zhivago†on the 110-feet-wide screen that wrapped around nearly 150-degrees, making it feel as if I was, actually, in Russia riding behind the horses in the snow. Such was the magic of that now departed movie theater, the largest indoor movie screen until its lamented conversion into a parking lot in the Summer of 2001.
Anyone who lived in Omaha from the sixties through 2001 knows what I mean. I was fortunate enough to grow up in the subdivision called “Indian Hills†and my brothers and I were able to walk down the street to our favorite movie theater on earth. My brother Ron always described the Indian Hills as his “templeâ€.
To someone who has only viewed a movie on a postage-stamp-sized screenâ€"standard for today’s multiplexesâ€"the effect of watching a movie in Cinemascope on a screen that wrapped in a semicircle around you cannot be explained. The immense screen in the Indian Hills extended beyone one’s peripheral vision, thereby evoking the feeling of actually being there. When a young boy like myself grows up two blocks from such a movie theater, it tends to affect one forever. Since then, I have lived in Iowa, Phoenix, Cincinatti, Houston, Salt Lake City and St. Petersburg, Russia. In each of these places I have found myself longing for a movie-going experience such as I had as a child. These longings have gone unfulfilled. When I have attempted to explain this desire to friends around the world, they invariably mention the word “IMAX†with their eyebrows raised, expecting that to strike me like a revelation. When I consider the many flat, square screens on all the IMAX theaters I have encountered, it does not compare. To date, there has never been an IMAX theater made in either the size or configuration of the Indian Hills theater, which was designed in the format called Cinerama, which whithered on the vine because of technical challenges. However, Cinemascopeâ€"the successor to Cineramaâ€"is nearly as powerful. Seeing “Lawrence of Arabia†on “the big screen†(as all afficianados call the Indian Hill’s screen.), with Peter O’Toole’s brilliant blue eyes shining their radiance twenty-feet high, is a sight like no other. Seeing Luke Skywalker fly his X-wing fighter down on the Deathstar on “the big screen†was miraculous. Movie going has never been as pleasurable to me since “the big screen†was no more.
In the Summer of 2001, my brothers and I joined with many other locals to attempt to save the Indian Hills, after we realised it was in danger. We rallied and organized, meeting in a Village Inn just East of the theater on West Dodge road, for a month. In the end, as anyone in Omaha can confirm, we failed in our quest. Monied interests exercised the perogatives that go with ownership. Those arguments are long past and are not germane to this appreciation. Knowing in hindsight that the events of September 11th, 2001 would shortly unfold might seem to cast the efforts of the Indian Hills Preservation Society, our group, as being trivial. But in this world where nothing anymore seems sacred, we still find ourselves reaching out to proclaim the beauty of Botticelli’s “Venusâ€. Though millions died in the trenches of World War I, we embrace Hemingway’s novel of the period, “A Farewell to Armsâ€. Though we know they were built upon the backs of slave labor, we admire and treasure the Great Pyramid of Cheops. All through our shared history on this planet, we humans have endured the challenges and cherished the creations of our species. The greatness of that round red departed landmark on West Dodge Road is not diminished by its death. Those of us who were fortunate enough to sit in its purple velvet seats will forever be affected by the experience of seeing films on “the big screen.†To those who have not ever had the experience, we might as well try to convey the flavor of chocolate to the uninitiated, or the joy of lovemaking, or of the feeling of love. If you didn’t see it, I can’t make you see it.
There exists a documentary movie by Jim Fields about the efforts of the Indian Hills Preservation Society to save the theater. This movie, heartbreaking as seeing a loved one murdered, contains glimpses of the theater in its heyday. It also contains scenes that will plunge daggers into your heart.
Though it is only a memory, to this day I carry a love for the Indian Hills theater. Seeing Omar Sharif in “Dr Zhivagoâ€, living in Russia, affected me for the rest of my life. I credit that movie, seen in its glory on “the big screenâ€, with inspiring me to learn Russian in college. The strength of of my feelings for “Dr. Zhivago†led me to live in St. Petersburg, Russia for all of 1997. As I walked around St. Petersburg in the cold Winter chill, I remembered the jingling bells of the troika and of the neighborhood where I grew up, next to the Indian Hills theater, the greatest movie theater ever made.
Saving The Indian Hills
The bells of the troika jingled all around me as I rode with Yuri to Varikino. I was a young lad of 5 and had never before been to Russia. I was with my brother Ron at the Indian Hills Theater watching “Dr. Zhivago†on the 110-feet-wide screen that wrapped around nearly 150-degrees, making it feel as if I was, actually, in Russia riding behind the horses in the snow. Such was the magic of that now departed movie theater, the largest indoor movie screen until its lamented conversion into a parking lot in the Summer of 2001.
Anyone who lived in Omaha from the sixties through 2001 knows what I mean. I was fortunate enough to grow up in the subdivision called “Indian Hills†and my brothers and I were able to walk down the street to our favorite movie theater on earth. My brother Ron always described the Indian Hills as his “templeâ€.
To someone who has only viewed a movie on a postage-stamp-sized screenâ€"standard for today’s multiplexesâ€"the effect of watching a movie in Cinemascope on a screen that wrapped in a semicircle around you cannot be explained. The immense screen in the Indian Hills extended beyone one’s peripheral vision, thereby evoking the feeling of actually being there. When a young boy like myself grows up two blocks from such a movie theater, it tends to affect one forever. Since then, I have lived in Iowa, Phoenix, Cincinatti, Houston, Salt Lake City and St. Petersburg, Russia. In each of these places I have found myself longing for a movie-going experience such as I had as a child. These longings have gone unfulfilled. When I have attempted to explain this desire to friends around the world, they invariably mention the word “IMAX†with their eyebrows raised, expecting that to strike me like a revelation. When I consider the many flat, square screens on all the IMAX theaters I have encountered, it does not compare. To date, there has never been an IMAX theater made in either the size or configuration of the Indian Hills theater, which was designed in the format called Cinerama, which whithered on the vine because of technical challenges. However, Cinemascopeâ€"the successor to Cineramaâ€"is nearly as powerful. Seeing “Lawrence of Arabia†on “the big screen†(as all afficianados call the Indian Hill’s screen.), with Peter O’Toole’s brilliant blue eyes shining their radiance twenty-feet high, is a sight like no other. Seeing Luke Skywalker fly his X-wing fighter down on the Deathstar on “the big screen†was miraculous. Movie going has never been as pleasurable to me since “the big screen†was no more.
In the Summer of 2001, my brothers and I joined with many other locals to attempt to save the Indian Hills, after we realised it was in danger. We rallied and organized, meeting in a Village Inn just East of the theater on West Dodge road, for a month. In the end, as anyone in Omaha can confirm, we failed in our quest. Monied interests exercised the perogatives that go with ownership. Those arguments are long past and are not germane to this appreciation. Knowing in hindsight that the events of September 11th, 2001 would shortly unfold might seem to cast the efforts of the Indian Hills Preservation Society, our group, as being trivial. But in this world where nothing anymore seems sacred, we still find ourselves reaching out to proclaim the beauty of Botticelli’s “Venusâ€. Though millions died in the trenches of World War I, we embrace Hemingway’s novel of the period, “A Farewell to Armsâ€. Though we know they were built upon the backs of slave labor, we admire and treasure the Great Pyramid of Cheops. All through our shared history on this planet, we humans have endured the challenges and cherished the creations of our species. The greatness of that round red departed landmark on West Dodge Road is not diminished by its death. Those of us who were fortunate enough to sit in its purple velvet seats will forever be affected by the experience of seeing films on “the big screen.†To those who have not ever had the experience, we might as well try to convey the flavor of chocolate to the uninitiated, or the joy of lovemaking, or of the feeling of love. If you didn’t see it, I can’t make you see it.
There exists a documentary movie by Jim Fields about the efforts of the Indian Hills Preservation Society to save the theater. This movie, heartbreaking as seeing a loved one murdered, contains glimpses of the theater in its heyday. It also contains scenes that will plunge daggers into your heart.
Though it is only a memory, to this day I carry a love for the Indian Hills theater. Seeing Omar Sharif in “Dr Zhivagoâ€, living in Russia, affected me for the rest of my life. I credit that movie, seen in its glory on “the big screenâ€, with inspiring me to learn Russian in college. The strength of of my feelings for “Dr. Zhivago†led me to live in St. Petersburg, Russia for all of 1997. As I walked around St. Petersburg in the cold Winter chill, I remembered the jingling bells of the troika and of the neighborhood where I grew up, next to the Indian Hills theater, the greatest movie theater ever made.
I am one of the persons who tried to save the Indian Hills theater in Omaha. Although our efforts came to naught, I am gratified that Mr. Jim Fields made such a moving and transcendent film about the efforts of our group and of other preservationists like us. I urge everyone to view his movie. It is excellent.
Here is an article about the Indian Hills theater that I wrote:
Saving The Indian Hills
The bells of the troika jingled all around me as I rode with Yuri to Varikino. I was a young lad of 5 and had never before been to Russia. I was with my brother Ron at the Indian Hills Theater watching “Dr. Zhivago†on the 110-feet-wide screen that wrapped around nearly 150-degrees, making it feel as if I was, actually, in Russia riding behind the horses in the snow. Such was the magic of that now departed movie theater, the largest indoor movie screen until its lamented conversion into a parking lot in the Summer of 2001.
Anyone who lived in Omaha from the sixties through 2001 knows what I mean. I was fortunate enough to grow up in the subdivision called “Indian Hills†and my brothers and I were able to walk down the street to our favorite movie theater on earth. My brother Ron always described the Indian Hills as his “templeâ€.
To someone who has only viewed a movie on a postage-stamp-sized screenâ€"standard for today’s multiplexesâ€"the effect of watching a movie in Cinemascope on a screen that wrapped in a semicircle around you cannot be explained. The immense screen in the Indian Hills extended beyone one’s peripheral vision, thereby evoking the feeling of actually being there. When a young boy like myself grows up two blocks from such a movie theater, it tends to affect one forever. Since then, I have lived in Iowa, Phoenix, Cincinatti, Houston, Salt Lake City and St. Petersburg, Russia. In each of these places I have found myself longing for a movie-going experience such as I had as a child. These longings have gone unfulfilled. When I have attempted to explain this desire to friends around the world, they invariably mention the word “IMAX†with their eyebrows raised, expecting that to strike me like a revelation. When I consider the many flat, square screens on all the IMAX theaters I have encountered, it does not compare. To date, there has never been an IMAX theater made in either the size or configuration of the Indian Hills theater, which was designed in the format called Cinerama, which whithered on the vine because of technical challenges. However, Cinemascopeâ€"the successor to Cineramaâ€"is nearly as powerful. Seeing “Lawrence of Arabia†on “the big screen†(as all afficianados call the Indian Hill’s screen.), with Peter O’Toole’s brilliant blue eyes shining their radiance twenty-feet high, is a sight like no other. Seeing Luke Skywalker fly his X-wing fighter down on the Deathstar on “the big screen†was miraculous. Movie going has never been as pleasurable to me since “the big screen†was no more.
In the Summer of 2001, my brothers and I joined with many other locals to attempt to save the Indian Hills, after we realised it was in danger. We rallied and organized, meeting in a Village Inn just East of the theater on West Dodge road, for a month. In the end, as anyone in Omaha can confirm, we failed in our quest. Monied interests exercised the perogatives that go with ownership. Those arguments are long past and are not germane to this appreciation. Knowing in hindsight that the events of September 11th, 2001 would shortly unfold might seem to cast the efforts of the Indian Hills Preservation Society, our group, as being trivial. But in this world where nothing anymore seems sacred, we still find ourselves reaching out to proclaim the beauty of Botticelli’s “Venusâ€. Though millions died in the trenches of World War I, we embrace Hemingway’s novel of the period, “A Farewell to Armsâ€. Though we know they were built upon the backs of slave labor, we admire and treasure the Great Pyramid of Cheops. All through our shared history on this planet, we humans have endured the challenges and cherished the creations of our species. The greatness of that round red departed landmark on West Dodge Road is not diminished by its death. Those of us who were fortunate enough to sit in its purple velvet seats will forever be affected by the experience of seeing films on “the big screen.†To those who have not ever had the experience, we might as well try to convey the flavor of chocolate to the uninitiated, or the joy of lovemaking, or of the feeling of love. If you didn’t see it, I can’t make you see it.
There exists a documentary movie by Jim Fields about the efforts of the Indian Hills Preservation Society to save the theater. This movie, heartbreaking as seeing a loved one murdered, contains glimpses of the theater in its heyday. It also contains scenes that will plunge daggers into your heart.
Though it is only a memory, to this day I carry a love for the Indian Hills theater. Seeing Omar Sharif in “Dr Zhivagoâ€, living in Russia, affected me for the rest of my life. I credit that movie, seen in its glory on “the big screenâ€, with inspiring me to learn Russian in college. The strength of of my feelings for “Dr. Zhivago†led me to live in St. Petersburg, Russia for all of 1997. As I walked around St. Petersburg in the cold Winter chill, I remembered the jingling bells of the troika and of the neighborhood where I grew up, next to the Indian Hills theater, the greatest movie theater ever made.
Saving The Indian Hills
The bells of the troika jingled all around me as I rode with Yuri to Varikino. I was a young lad of 5 and had never before been to Russia. I was with my brother Ron at the Indian Hills Theater watching “Dr. Zhivago†on the 110-feet-wide screen that wrapped around nearly 150-degrees, making it feel as if I was, actually, in Russia riding behind the horses in the snow. Such was the magic of that now departed movie theater, the largest indoor movie screen until its lamented conversion into a parking lot in the Summer of 2001.
Anyone who lived in Omaha from the sixties through 2001 knows what I mean. I was fortunate enough to grow up in the subdivision called “Indian Hills†and my brothers and I were able to walk down the street to our favorite movie theater on earth. My brother Ron always described the Indian Hills as his “templeâ€.
To someone who has only viewed a movie on a postage-stamp-sized screenâ€"standard for today’s multiplexesâ€"the effect of watching a movie in Cinemascope on a screen that wrapped in a semicircle around you cannot be explained. The immense screen in the Indian Hills extended beyone one’s peripheral vision, thereby evoking the feeling of actually being there. When a young boy like myself grows up two blocks from such a movie theater, it tends to affect one forever. Since then, I have lived in Iowa, Phoenix, Cincinatti, Houston, Salt Lake City and St. Petersburg, Russia. In each of these places I have found myself longing for a movie-going experience such as I had as a child. These longings have gone unfulfilled. When I have attempted to explain this desire to friends around the world, they invariably mention the word “IMAX†with their eyebrows raised, expecting that to strike me like a revelation. When I consider the many flat, square screens on all the IMAX theaters I have encountered, it does not compare. To date, there has never been an IMAX theater made in either the size or configuration of the Indian Hills theater, which was designed in the format called Cinerama, which whithered on the vine because of technical challenges. However, Cinemascopeâ€"the successor to Cineramaâ€"is nearly as powerful. Seeing “Lawrence of Arabia†on “the big screen†(as all afficianados call the Indian Hill’s screen.), with Peter O’Toole’s brilliant blue eyes shining their radiance twenty-feet high, is a sight like no other. Seeing Luke Skywalker fly his X-wing fighter down on the Deathstar on “the big screen†was miraculous. Movie going has never been as pleasurable to me since “the big screen†was no more.
In the Summer of 2001, my brothers and I joined with many other locals to attempt to save the Indian Hills, after we realised it was in danger. We rallied and organized, meeting in a Village Inn just East of the theater on West Dodge road, for a month. In the end, as anyone in Omaha can confirm, we failed in our quest. Monied interests exercised the perogatives that go with ownership. Those arguments are long past and are not germane to this appreciation. Knowing in hindsight that the events of September 11th, 2001 would shortly unfold might seem to cast the efforts of the Indian Hills Preservation Society, our group, as being trivial. But in this world where nothing anymore seems sacred, we still find ourselves reaching out to proclaim the beauty of Botticelli’s “Venusâ€. Though millions died in the trenches of World War I, we embrace Hemingway’s novel of the period, “A Farewell to Armsâ€. Though we know they were built upon the backs of slave labor, we admire and treasure the Great Pyramid of Cheops. All through our shared history on this planet, we humans have endured the challenges and cherished the creations of our species. The greatness of that round red departed landmark on West Dodge Road is not diminished by its death. Those of us who were fortunate enough to sit in its purple velvet seats will forever be affected by the experience of seeing films on “the big screen.†To those who have not ever had the experience, we might as well try to convey the flavor of chocolate to the uninitiated, or the joy of lovemaking, or of the feeling of love. If you didn’t see it, I can’t make you see it.
There exists a documentary movie by Jim Fields about the efforts of the Indian Hills Preservation Society to save the theater. This movie, heartbreaking as seeing a loved one murdered, contains glimpses of the theater in its heyday. It also contains scenes that will plunge daggers into your heart.
Though it is only a memory, to this day I carry a love for the Indian Hills theater. Seeing Omar Sharif in “Dr Zhivagoâ€, living in Russia, affected me for the rest of my life. I credit that movie, seen in its glory on “the big screenâ€, with inspiring me to learn Russian in college. The strength of of my feelings for “Dr. Zhivago†led me to live in St. Petersburg, Russia for all of 1997. As I walked around St. Petersburg in the cold Winter chill, I remembered the jingling bells of the troika and of the neighborhood where I grew up, next to the Indian Hills theater, the greatest movie theater ever made.