Fascinating, RobertR, great get glimpses of so many of our local theaters in their heydays. The movie at the Trylon is surprising. A search of the IMDB indicates that “Times Gone By” is an obscure Italian anthology film that was already 2 years old at the time — not what we of the 1960’s and 70’s cohort would have expected to find at the Trylon. By enlarging and squinting at the featured players, it looks like the film may have been promoted as part of the Gina Lollabrigida craze, though her actualy part is so small that I had to go WAY down the cast list to find her.
Wow, Warren, those are great and surprising shots. I went to the Midway frequently as a kid and for my early dating years, 1964-73, and I don’t recall ever seeing natural light in the lobby (or seeing the message screen). I only recall a big dark space with an impression of a high ceiling. I wonder whether the drapes were always closed by then, or whether the second photo is of a part of the theater I didn’t ordinarily see. Ar the doors under the message screen the same as the ones you used to enter from the under the marquee? Where would the auditorium be with respect to that photo?
There’s a surprisingly poetic note about the use of the name “Moses” in “Ten Commandments”, as mentioned in the commentary track of the DVD. DeMille made sure that each character got to repeat the name “Moses” three times at one point in the film, usually a crucial one. Each character said it and with a different intent and tone. So early in the film we have mom calling kid Moses three times with motherly love; Pharoh repeating it three times with his dying breath — and I THINK Anne Baxter’s 3-play may have been in the classic scene mentioned above (that would certainly add silliness to the line!). It’s an unexprectdly subtle and sincere touch to such a lovably overblown film.
Hah, good shot Vincent. And good point. One of my first experiences of a non-mass-marketed film was “The Ipcress File” in late summer of 1965, at the Baronet or Coronet. The place was sleek and clean and had great sound, unlike my local Queens theaters. As a movie-crazy 14-year old, “Ipcress” blew me away to the point that I stayed to see it three times in a row. I left the theater shivering with cold (it was VERY well air-conditioned) and delirious with movie-going joy. I was an East-side fan for the next 10 years — until I left NYC. A sad farewell to these wonderful places.
Regarding the coming showing of Raging Bull at the Ziegfield:
It’s lovely to see a classic movie up on the big Ziegfeld single screen, but when one considers this more carefully, it is probably yet another disaster for the theater. Perhpas part of a management plan to demonstrate the need to close the theater for good?
Theatrical re-releases right before a DVD release are just cost-effective marketing tools to sell the DVD. An ad gets printed in the movie sections of newspapers, where DVD buyers are likely to it. Local film critics provide further hype, doing pieces that are usually fed to them by the studios, prominently mentioning the coming DVD. The actual showing of the film is an afterthought — making money on admissions is not what the re-lease is about. The film usually plays for a week at the smallest screen available — because how many people will pay for a single viewing of a film they can own the next week for roughly the same price as a ticket and a popcorn? I’ve wondered whether anyone would notice if the theatrical re-release never really took place.
The recent pre-DVD release of “Donnie Darko” is a case in point. Even though the film has a strong cult following, and even though the re-release was the first chance to see a significantly altered version of the film, it played to nearly empty art-house auditoriums.
I hope I’m wrong — NYC is full of true movie lovers — but I predict that Raging Bull will play to a horribly empty Ziegfeld. What are the true motives behind this?
HEY VINCEIULIANO! We can give each other a memory boost. The movie you are thinking of is “The Big Circus”, 1959. The Niagara tightrope walk is about the only scene I still recall from the flick(It might have been Gilbert Roland who did the walk, but I’m not sure.). I remember that the summer day camp I attended that year bussed us kids into Manhattan to see this movie at a big impressive theater. I had no idea which theater it might have been, but now your Dec. 7 comment suggests that it was the old Warner’s. Thanks!
Thanks for the “woo woo” moment, Br549, I mean 91975, it brings back a memory of what I THINK is of the old Cinema I and II. I remember seeing some movie at one of the cinemas on a bleak winter day, probably 1966. I was in the upper lobby, waiting for — something — and staring idly out the window. I could see the marquee of what I’m pretty sure was the RKO 58th St. I think the RKO marquee had an unusual shape — triangular? And it listed “Juliet of the Spirits”. I was just a kid, had not yet heard of Fellini, and I remember wondering idly during my wait about what that movie might be about.
So, Cinema fans, does anyone remember — COULD you see the 58th St. marquee from Cinema I and II lobby, and did it actually have an unusual shape?
It’s very sad to read of the progressive degradation of these once fine theaters. My relationship with these theaters got off to a rocky start though. On Christmas 1965 I was lured from Queens to my first Manhattan movie because that was the only way to see “Thunderball”, and I was a James-Bond-crazed 13-year-old kid. After a childhood of movie houses that ranged from generous to grand, I was shocked at the size and minimalism of the Cinema II. There was no curtain! And I has never seen a movie screen so small, or a theater so narrow. The fact that the screen was recessed into a slot in the wall made everything seem even punier. The dad of a frind of mine regularly showed 35 mm slides of his trips in the basement of his house, and I vividly remember the feeling that this theater felt just like that basement. (And the experience wasn’t helped by the fact that Thunderball was the first Bond film that left me badly disappointed.)
As I grew up, though, I learned to appreciate the wonderful selection of films that the Cinemas showed, and the clean, modern feel of the theater. The Saturday night ritual of standing in a long line with my girlfriend, patiently and eagerly anticipating a film treat, along with hundreds of like-minded fans, is something I’ll always remember. Even when it was cold, it was fun.
I’d like to follow up on the comment of Nova, Oct 3. As a kid in Queens NY, 1967, I went several times to the Midway Theater to see the latest James Bond Film over and over again. At each show there was a trailer for the big prestige flick at the time, “The Sand Pebbles”, and after the trailer a still ad was projected on the screen saying the the film’s exclusive reserved-seat Long Island engagement was at — I think — The Pine Hollow Theater — and I think it’s location was listed as Oyster Bay. As a child in a congested Queens neighborhood who saw snatches of suburbia on rare trips to Jones Beach, the trailer and ad got me day-dreaming at odd moments about what a big, luxurious theater this Pine Hollow must be, and how fine life would be in this Oyster Bay.
This was one of those odd kid fantasies that keeps coming to mind every now and then, and when I discovered the Cinema Treasures web site I thought I could finally attach a concrete image to the fantasy. I was surprised that there was no Pine Hollow Theater listed on the site — and none found in a Google search. I figured that my 1967 memory had simply become blurred. After all, someone would have remembered a theater big and important enough to host road show engagements of important films. But now Nova too has a memory of a Pine Hollow theater. Can anyone enlighten us?!
Moviegoing in the Detroit area was revolutionized around 1990 by the opening of several new theaters of a chain called “Loek’s Star Theaters”. Until then, first-run movies were dominated almost exclusively by AMC, whose theaters tended to be dingy, poorly staffed (20 minute wait for popcorn etc), and frequently equipped with tinny low-volume monaural sound, despite the first-run prices. How my friends and family flocked to the Loek’s Stars, with their big screens, full-throated stereo, and cheerful, efficient service. I’m sure it was the Loek’s Star chain that forced AMC to upgrade or close it’s more dismal facilities. (Now, sadly, Loek’s has been bought by Loews or Sony or some such, the Star Theater service has has become quite bad, and a chain called MJR chain is the bright and efficient upstart— but that’s another story).
Anyway — it’s interesting to see that there was a Jack Loeks theater in the western part of the state several years before the Stars popped up in Metro Detroit. I’m sure this must have been the embryonic form of the Star theaters, and I’d sure like to see some pictures, and hear more about it.
I’m looking for information about a different theater at Roosevelt Field.
During what I think was the summer of 1963 my mom dragged us kids to Roosevelt Field — an unusual expedition for a sedentary Queens family — for back-to-school clothing and supplies. I recall a theater inside the mall called “Cinema”. It was showing a foreign film, “Shoot the Piano Player”. I remember that this was the first time I had heard movies referred to as “Cinema”, and that some movies were made in languages other than English. (And it was only years later that I learned that “Shoot the Piano Player” was one of Truffaut’s most beloved films).
I’d like to start a page about this theater but I lack even the most basic information. I can’t find any trace of the theater by doing web searches, although part of the problem is swamping by thousands of references to the current theaters at Roosevelt Field.
Does anyone have any information about this “Cinema” at Roosevelt Field — the full name, the company that ran it, its dates of operation?
I am in awe of The Lafayette — the thought of seeing big-screen classics in a big auditorium filled with a responsive, enthusiastic audience – it sounds like a dream. How I wish I were still living within a commute from the town.
From the picture, the theater seems to have a nearly cylindrical drum-shaped marquee. I’ve never seen one like that before. Does anyone know — is this merely rare, or is it truly unique?
As of July 2004 Bleu is still in operation. The opening of a major corporate headquarters just down the street has spurred the development of new restaurants and lofts and gives hope that the old Telenews will continue to survive as an entertainment venue.
I fondly remember the Tele-Arts phase. The theater was restored and operated as a labor of love by a local businessman, Carl Allison. It was wonderful to have a movie theater within walking distance of our downtown home, at a time when the nearest theaters were at least a 20 minute drive away. It was even better that Carl programmed foreign and revival films that were difficult or impossible to see anywhere else. It was at the Tele-Arts that I saw my first Peter Greenaway film, my first viewing of “Manchurian Candidate”, and the once-in-a-lifetime chance to see Todd Haynes “Superstar” the now legendary and banned biography of The Carpenters as performed by Barbie and Ken dolls (funny, but also a serious and even moving exploration of anorexia, now forbidden because of problems with the music rights). We really miss the Tele-Arts, Carl, wherever you are!
I remember attending one of the live plays around 1982, a quite good production of “Deathtrap” starring David McCallum. It’s good that this theater was preserved, and even better that it doggedly continues to reserve a few of its screens for independent and foreign films, one of only 3 commercial Detroit-area venues to do so. The largest auditorium, used for standard first-run films, incorporates much of the original theater auditorium; it is spacious and has a lovely chandelier and period decor. The smaller rooms, however, are far less pleasant Not much can be done about small size and unfortunate geometry, but the owners should consider equipping them with modern sound systems. In 2002 a glitzy modern multiplex opened a few blocks away offering stadium auditoriums, some of which serve food and alcohol right at your seat — catnip for Michiganders. My wife and I continue to patronize the Birmingham whenever we can, praying that it survives the competition.
I didn’t live in Hempstead and never attended this theater but this one memory has always stuck with me for some reason: Around 1970, I’m passing through town, probably on the LIRR, possibly on a suburban bus, and I can see the front of the theater. The rat-horror movie “Willard” is playing, and an enormous, crude, three-dimensional rat head is affixed to the front of the theater as an advertising gimmick.
The Toho Cinema phase was certainly unusual. The theater exhibited the entire spectrum of Toho Studio films, which stretched from high art to ultra-cheeze. Some films, like “High and Low” were exactly what you would expect to find in a prestige exclusive-engagement, midtown Manhattan theater. But can you imagine dressing up, having a fine dinner, and then seeing “Matango, Fungus of Death” or “Atoragon the Flying Sub”? These flicks also played the Toho. And this was long before they would have been considered to be campy fun.
My wife and I used to patronize Nick George Theaters regularly. They featured two constants: A large framed portrait of Mr. George in the lobby; and wonderfully garish carpeting.
We regularly drove from downtown Detroit to the theater in its Americana and early AMC incarnation because of the wonderful giant screen and stereo sound, rarities in those days (1982-88). Some memories include “Aliens” and “Robocop”.
For several months around 1990 the State Wayne devoted one of its theaters to classic films of the 50’s and 60’s. My wife and I, often with movie-loving friends, would make the long drive from downtown Detroit to dine at one of the local restaurants and catch flicks like “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolf”, “Around the World in 80 Days”, “Ten Commandments”, and “Oliver”. These films were all available on VHS by then, but it was worth the trip to see them on the big screen, as part of a live, responsive audience. Business reality must have set in. The theater reverted to a pure second-run “dollar movie”, and our trips to Wayne ceased.
My most vivid Trylon memory is the Spring 1968 engagement of “Bonnie and Clyde”. The house was packed and the audience seemed seemed unusually synched, riding the emotional roller coaster of that film like an enormous family, with gales of laughter at the comic scenes, colective gasps at the violent and suspenseful scenes that suddenly intruded, and stunned silence, with some open weeping, after the film ended. The greatest home theater set-up will never produce that sort of experience.
The Midway was one of my neighborhood theaters when I was a teen in the mid-late 60’s. It was still a large and well-equipped single-screen, although many of the special touches mentioned above, like the preview screen, were gone.
I recall that the window of the exterior box office bore a decal showing a map of Midway Island — the first inkling I had, as a kid, that Midway was more than the name of a theater. See, movies CAN be educational.
I also recall that the screen was not only huge but also unusually curved for regular theater, giving s slight, and actually pleasing distortion to the picture.
I vividly recall seeing “The Sand Pebbles” there, several times, in Fall 1967. It was the first time I’d seen a picture with stereo sound. I wonder if this sound system had been slumbering unused, or whether it was installed specially for the engagement of this prestige feature?
Other Midway memories include “Dr. Zhivago” — my first actual date — “Planet of the Apes”, “In Like Flint” (OK, a guilt pleasure, but as I kid I loved it!), and “Patton”.
I remember the Continental in the 60’s when it was a single screen member of the Walter Reade chain and showed mainly foreign and art films. As a kid at the time, my main experience of the theater was when it showed “Goldfinger” in Spring 1965. Yes, there was a time when James Bond films were considered as somewhat exotic imports which played exclusive engagements in Manhattan and then came to a few select venues in the boros. The Continental was the only theater anywhere near my neighborhood to play Goldfinger, which I went to see every weekend for its entire run, which I think was a month long.
Once the Bond Craze took off, right after the release of Goldfinger, the first 3 films were repeatedly re-released in wide distribution, and in various combinations, over the next couple of years.
Another Continental memory is Mel Brooks “The Producers” which had a long run in Summer 1968.
I believe that in its final years the Guild concentrated mainly on childrens' films and family fare.
My main Guild memory is of subwaying into the Manhattan to see “Planet of the Apes” which, if memory serves, had a very long run there.
The Main was my neighborhood movie house, 1955 – 1964, though I was only reached moviegoing age in 1960. It was where I began my lifelong love of movies. On Saturdays in 1962, and probably 1963, there would be special childrens' double-feature matinees, often including a science fiction or “monster” feature. The movies were usually several years old, which was perfect, because all of us kids were avid fans of the “Famous Monsters” magazine. The magazine carried appreciations of both old and new releases, and we were only too delighted to get a chance to see the movies we had read about, on a big screen and in color. This included some fine Japanese scifi — The Mysterians, The H Man, Gigantis. Also fondly remembered is The Blob, The 7th Voyage of Sinbad, Atlantis the Lost Continent.
Other kid-memories of the Main:
— In those years it showed the same main features as The Parsons, but a week later, and usually with a different second feature.
—It had an unusual aroma, different from any of the hundreds of different theaters I’ve been to over the years — unusually vivid popcorn, mixed with a pungent air-conditioner smell and — what — mildew? It blended into a pleasant, almost magical scent and if someone opened the door as I walked past the theater, the aroma would make me dizzy with desire to see a movie (a rare treat, stingily parcelled out by my stingy parents).
— Mounted on the auditorium walls were, I think, torch-like lighting sconces.
I can’t imagine the Main as a six-plex! I don’t suppose it has the magical movie smell either.
I began to go to the Meadows in 1970, right after it had received a total overhaul, complete with new, larger screen (all the new features were proudly described in a big newspaper ad). How sad that the multiplexing mutilation began only a few years later. My Meadows experiences — 1970 – 1974 — happened because my first serious girlfriend lived on a bus route that passed the theater. Some vividly remembered movies we saw on the big single Meadows screen included Midnight Cowboy; Live and Let Die; Missouri Breaks; Ryan’s Daughter; Sleeper; and Last Tango in paris.
I recall that there was a Horn and Hardart nearby where we could pick up a snack while waiting for the bus home.
It’s interesting to hear that the Meadows opened with a “Hollywood Preview” because it’s the only place I ever saw such things, in the early 70’s. Not the “previews” common today, in which a film is sneaked a week in advance of opening to build word-of-mouth, but a showing of a work-in-progress, after which the audience filled out detailed comment cards.
The Previews were a free addition after a regular Saturday night show. They were announced in an ad, but were never identified — which made for a lot of excitement and anticipation. We never saw a classic — the best was “The Anderson Tapes”, with Sean Connery. Other films we saw previewed was a horribly depressing Australian film called “Outback” — too bad it was several years ahead of the Aussie movoe craze — and “Pieces of Dreams”, with Robert Forster, a blah romantic drama about a priest in love. We felt a bit of parental pride when the films finally came out, several months later, knowing that our input might have affected the final cut.
Fascinating, RobertR, great get glimpses of so many of our local theaters in their heydays. The movie at the Trylon is surprising. A search of the IMDB indicates that “Times Gone By” is an obscure Italian anthology film that was already 2 years old at the time — not what we of the 1960’s and 70’s cohort would have expected to find at the Trylon. By enlarging and squinting at the featured players, it looks like the film may have been promoted as part of the Gina Lollabrigida craze, though her actualy part is so small that I had to go WAY down the cast list to find her.
Wow, Warren, those are great and surprising shots. I went to the Midway frequently as a kid and for my early dating years, 1964-73, and I don’t recall ever seeing natural light in the lobby (or seeing the message screen). I only recall a big dark space with an impression of a high ceiling. I wonder whether the drapes were always closed by then, or whether the second photo is of a part of the theater I didn’t ordinarily see. Ar the doors under the message screen the same as the ones you used to enter from the under the marquee? Where would the auditorium be with respect to that photo?
There’s a surprisingly poetic note about the use of the name “Moses” in “Ten Commandments”, as mentioned in the commentary track of the DVD. DeMille made sure that each character got to repeat the name “Moses” three times at one point in the film, usually a crucial one. Each character said it and with a different intent and tone. So early in the film we have mom calling kid Moses three times with motherly love; Pharoh repeating it three times with his dying breath — and I THINK Anne Baxter’s 3-play may have been in the classic scene mentioned above (that would certainly add silliness to the line!). It’s an unexprectdly subtle and sincere touch to such a lovably overblown film.
Hah, good shot Vincent. And good point. One of my first experiences of a non-mass-marketed film was “The Ipcress File” in late summer of 1965, at the Baronet or Coronet. The place was sleek and clean and had great sound, unlike my local Queens theaters. As a movie-crazy 14-year old, “Ipcress” blew me away to the point that I stayed to see it three times in a row. I left the theater shivering with cold (it was VERY well air-conditioned) and delirious with movie-going joy. I was an East-side fan for the next 10 years — until I left NYC. A sad farewell to these wonderful places.
Regarding the coming showing of Raging Bull at the Ziegfield:
It’s lovely to see a classic movie up on the big Ziegfeld single screen, but when one considers this more carefully, it is probably yet another disaster for the theater. Perhpas part of a management plan to demonstrate the need to close the theater for good?
Theatrical re-releases right before a DVD release are just cost-effective marketing tools to sell the DVD. An ad gets printed in the movie sections of newspapers, where DVD buyers are likely to it. Local film critics provide further hype, doing pieces that are usually fed to them by the studios, prominently mentioning the coming DVD. The actual showing of the film is an afterthought — making money on admissions is not what the re-lease is about. The film usually plays for a week at the smallest screen available — because how many people will pay for a single viewing of a film they can own the next week for roughly the same price as a ticket and a popcorn? I’ve wondered whether anyone would notice if the theatrical re-release never really took place.
The recent pre-DVD release of “Donnie Darko” is a case in point. Even though the film has a strong cult following, and even though the re-release was the first chance to see a significantly altered version of the film, it played to nearly empty art-house auditoriums.
I hope I’m wrong — NYC is full of true movie lovers — but I predict that Raging Bull will play to a horribly empty Ziegfeld. What are the true motives behind this?
HEY VINCEIULIANO! We can give each other a memory boost. The movie you are thinking of is “The Big Circus”, 1959. The Niagara tightrope walk is about the only scene I still recall from the flick(It might have been Gilbert Roland who did the walk, but I’m not sure.). I remember that the summer day camp I attended that year bussed us kids into Manhattan to see this movie at a big impressive theater. I had no idea which theater it might have been, but now your Dec. 7 comment suggests that it was the old Warner’s. Thanks!
Thanks for the “woo woo” moment, Br549, I mean 91975, it brings back a memory of what I THINK is of the old Cinema I and II. I remember seeing some movie at one of the cinemas on a bleak winter day, probably 1966. I was in the upper lobby, waiting for — something — and staring idly out the window. I could see the marquee of what I’m pretty sure was the RKO 58th St. I think the RKO marquee had an unusual shape — triangular? And it listed “Juliet of the Spirits”. I was just a kid, had not yet heard of Fellini, and I remember wondering idly during my wait about what that movie might be about.
So, Cinema fans, does anyone remember — COULD you see the 58th St. marquee from Cinema I and II lobby, and did it actually have an unusual shape?
It’s very sad to read of the progressive degradation of these once fine theaters. My relationship with these theaters got off to a rocky start though. On Christmas 1965 I was lured from Queens to my first Manhattan movie because that was the only way to see “Thunderball”, and I was a James-Bond-crazed 13-year-old kid. After a childhood of movie houses that ranged from generous to grand, I was shocked at the size and minimalism of the Cinema II. There was no curtain! And I has never seen a movie screen so small, or a theater so narrow. The fact that the screen was recessed into a slot in the wall made everything seem even punier. The dad of a frind of mine regularly showed 35 mm slides of his trips in the basement of his house, and I vividly remember the feeling that this theater felt just like that basement. (And the experience wasn’t helped by the fact that Thunderball was the first Bond film that left me badly disappointed.)
As I grew up, though, I learned to appreciate the wonderful selection of films that the Cinemas showed, and the clean, modern feel of the theater. The Saturday night ritual of standing in a long line with my girlfriend, patiently and eagerly anticipating a film treat, along with hundreds of like-minded fans, is something I’ll always remember. Even when it was cold, it was fun.
I’d like to follow up on the comment of Nova, Oct 3. As a kid in Queens NY, 1967, I went several times to the Midway Theater to see the latest James Bond Film over and over again. At each show there was a trailer for the big prestige flick at the time, “The Sand Pebbles”, and after the trailer a still ad was projected on the screen saying the the film’s exclusive reserved-seat Long Island engagement was at — I think — The Pine Hollow Theater — and I think it’s location was listed as Oyster Bay. As a child in a congested Queens neighborhood who saw snatches of suburbia on rare trips to Jones Beach, the trailer and ad got me day-dreaming at odd moments about what a big, luxurious theater this Pine Hollow must be, and how fine life would be in this Oyster Bay.
This was one of those odd kid fantasies that keeps coming to mind every now and then, and when I discovered the Cinema Treasures web site I thought I could finally attach a concrete image to the fantasy. I was surprised that there was no Pine Hollow Theater listed on the site — and none found in a Google search. I figured that my 1967 memory had simply become blurred. After all, someone would have remembered a theater big and important enough to host road show engagements of important films. But now Nova too has a memory of a Pine Hollow theater. Can anyone enlighten us?!
Moviegoing in the Detroit area was revolutionized around 1990 by the opening of several new theaters of a chain called “Loek’s Star Theaters”. Until then, first-run movies were dominated almost exclusively by AMC, whose theaters tended to be dingy, poorly staffed (20 minute wait for popcorn etc), and frequently equipped with tinny low-volume monaural sound, despite the first-run prices. How my friends and family flocked to the Loek’s Stars, with their big screens, full-throated stereo, and cheerful, efficient service. I’m sure it was the Loek’s Star chain that forced AMC to upgrade or close it’s more dismal facilities. (Now, sadly, Loek’s has been bought by Loews or Sony or some such, the Star Theater service has has become quite bad, and a chain called MJR chain is the bright and efficient upstart— but that’s another story).
Anyway — it’s interesting to see that there was a Jack Loeks theater in the western part of the state several years before the Stars popped up in Metro Detroit. I’m sure this must have been the embryonic form of the Star theaters, and I’d sure like to see some pictures, and hear more about it.
I’m looking for information about a different theater at Roosevelt Field.
During what I think was the summer of 1963 my mom dragged us kids to Roosevelt Field — an unusual expedition for a sedentary Queens family — for back-to-school clothing and supplies. I recall a theater inside the mall called “Cinema”. It was showing a foreign film, “Shoot the Piano Player”. I remember that this was the first time I had heard movies referred to as “Cinema”, and that some movies were made in languages other than English. (And it was only years later that I learned that “Shoot the Piano Player” was one of Truffaut’s most beloved films).
I’d like to start a page about this theater but I lack even the most basic information. I can’t find any trace of the theater by doing web searches, although part of the problem is swamping by thousands of references to the current theaters at Roosevelt Field.
Does anyone have any information about this “Cinema” at Roosevelt Field — the full name, the company that ran it, its dates of operation?
I am in awe of The Lafayette — the thought of seeing big-screen classics in a big auditorium filled with a responsive, enthusiastic audience – it sounds like a dream. How I wish I were still living within a commute from the town.
From the picture, the theater seems to have a nearly cylindrical drum-shaped marquee. I’ve never seen one like that before. Does anyone know — is this merely rare, or is it truly unique?
As of July 2004 Bleu is still in operation. The opening of a major corporate headquarters just down the street has spurred the development of new restaurants and lofts and gives hope that the old Telenews will continue to survive as an entertainment venue.
I fondly remember the Tele-Arts phase. The theater was restored and operated as a labor of love by a local businessman, Carl Allison. It was wonderful to have a movie theater within walking distance of our downtown home, at a time when the nearest theaters were at least a 20 minute drive away. It was even better that Carl programmed foreign and revival films that were difficult or impossible to see anywhere else. It was at the Tele-Arts that I saw my first Peter Greenaway film, my first viewing of “Manchurian Candidate”, and the once-in-a-lifetime chance to see Todd Haynes “Superstar” the now legendary and banned biography of The Carpenters as performed by Barbie and Ken dolls (funny, but also a serious and even moving exploration of anorexia, now forbidden because of problems with the music rights). We really miss the Tele-Arts, Carl, wherever you are!
I remember attending one of the live plays around 1982, a quite good production of “Deathtrap” starring David McCallum. It’s good that this theater was preserved, and even better that it doggedly continues to reserve a few of its screens for independent and foreign films, one of only 3 commercial Detroit-area venues to do so. The largest auditorium, used for standard first-run films, incorporates much of the original theater auditorium; it is spacious and has a lovely chandelier and period decor. The smaller rooms, however, are far less pleasant Not much can be done about small size and unfortunate geometry, but the owners should consider equipping them with modern sound systems. In 2002 a glitzy modern multiplex opened a few blocks away offering stadium auditoriums, some of which serve food and alcohol right at your seat — catnip for Michiganders. My wife and I continue to patronize the Birmingham whenever we can, praying that it survives the competition.
I didn’t live in Hempstead and never attended this theater but this one memory has always stuck with me for some reason: Around 1970, I’m passing through town, probably on the LIRR, possibly on a suburban bus, and I can see the front of the theater. The rat-horror movie “Willard” is playing, and an enormous, crude, three-dimensional rat head is affixed to the front of the theater as an advertising gimmick.
The Toho Cinema phase was certainly unusual. The theater exhibited the entire spectrum of Toho Studio films, which stretched from high art to ultra-cheeze. Some films, like “High and Low” were exactly what you would expect to find in a prestige exclusive-engagement, midtown Manhattan theater. But can you imagine dressing up, having a fine dinner, and then seeing “Matango, Fungus of Death” or “Atoragon the Flying Sub”? These flicks also played the Toho. And this was long before they would have been considered to be campy fun.
My wife and I used to patronize Nick George Theaters regularly. They featured two constants: A large framed portrait of Mr. George in the lobby; and wonderfully garish carpeting.
We regularly drove from downtown Detroit to the theater in its Americana and early AMC incarnation because of the wonderful giant screen and stereo sound, rarities in those days (1982-88). Some memories include “Aliens” and “Robocop”.
For several months around 1990 the State Wayne devoted one of its theaters to classic films of the 50’s and 60’s. My wife and I, often with movie-loving friends, would make the long drive from downtown Detroit to dine at one of the local restaurants and catch flicks like “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolf”, “Around the World in 80 Days”, “Ten Commandments”, and “Oliver”. These films were all available on VHS by then, but it was worth the trip to see them on the big screen, as part of a live, responsive audience. Business reality must have set in. The theater reverted to a pure second-run “dollar movie”, and our trips to Wayne ceased.
My most vivid Trylon memory is the Spring 1968 engagement of “Bonnie and Clyde”. The house was packed and the audience seemed seemed unusually synched, riding the emotional roller coaster of that film like an enormous family, with gales of laughter at the comic scenes, colective gasps at the violent and suspenseful scenes that suddenly intruded, and stunned silence, with some open weeping, after the film ended. The greatest home theater set-up will never produce that sort of experience.
The Midway was one of my neighborhood theaters when I was a teen in the mid-late 60’s. It was still a large and well-equipped single-screen, although many of the special touches mentioned above, like the preview screen, were gone.
I recall that the window of the exterior box office bore a decal showing a map of Midway Island — the first inkling I had, as a kid, that Midway was more than the name of a theater. See, movies CAN be educational.
I also recall that the screen was not only huge but also unusually curved for regular theater, giving s slight, and actually pleasing distortion to the picture.
I vividly recall seeing “The Sand Pebbles” there, several times, in Fall 1967. It was the first time I’d seen a picture with stereo sound. I wonder if this sound system had been slumbering unused, or whether it was installed specially for the engagement of this prestige feature?
Other Midway memories include “Dr. Zhivago” — my first actual date — “Planet of the Apes”, “In Like Flint” (OK, a guilt pleasure, but as I kid I loved it!), and “Patton”.
I remember the Continental in the 60’s when it was a single screen member of the Walter Reade chain and showed mainly foreign and art films. As a kid at the time, my main experience of the theater was when it showed “Goldfinger” in Spring 1965. Yes, there was a time when James Bond films were considered as somewhat exotic imports which played exclusive engagements in Manhattan and then came to a few select venues in the boros. The Continental was the only theater anywhere near my neighborhood to play Goldfinger, which I went to see every weekend for its entire run, which I think was a month long.
Once the Bond Craze took off, right after the release of Goldfinger, the first 3 films were repeatedly re-released in wide distribution, and in various combinations, over the next couple of years.
Another Continental memory is Mel Brooks “The Producers” which had a long run in Summer 1968.
I believe that in its final years the Guild concentrated mainly on childrens' films and family fare.
My main Guild memory is of subwaying into the Manhattan to see “Planet of the Apes” which, if memory serves, had a very long run there.
The Main was my neighborhood movie house, 1955 – 1964, though I was only reached moviegoing age in 1960. It was where I began my lifelong love of movies. On Saturdays in 1962, and probably 1963, there would be special childrens' double-feature matinees, often including a science fiction or “monster” feature. The movies were usually several years old, which was perfect, because all of us kids were avid fans of the “Famous Monsters” magazine. The magazine carried appreciations of both old and new releases, and we were only too delighted to get a chance to see the movies we had read about, on a big screen and in color. This included some fine Japanese scifi — The Mysterians, The H Man, Gigantis. Also fondly remembered is The Blob, The 7th Voyage of Sinbad, Atlantis the Lost Continent.
Other kid-memories of the Main:
— In those years it showed the same main features as The Parsons, but a week later, and usually with a different second feature.
—It had an unusual aroma, different from any of the hundreds of different theaters I’ve been to over the years — unusually vivid popcorn, mixed with a pungent air-conditioner smell and — what — mildew? It blended into a pleasant, almost magical scent and if someone opened the door as I walked past the theater, the aroma would make me dizzy with desire to see a movie (a rare treat, stingily parcelled out by my stingy parents).
— Mounted on the auditorium walls were, I think, torch-like lighting sconces.
I can’t imagine the Main as a six-plex! I don’t suppose it has the magical movie smell either.
I began to go to the Meadows in 1970, right after it had received a total overhaul, complete with new, larger screen (all the new features were proudly described in a big newspaper ad). How sad that the multiplexing mutilation began only a few years later. My Meadows experiences — 1970 – 1974 — happened because my first serious girlfriend lived on a bus route that passed the theater. Some vividly remembered movies we saw on the big single Meadows screen included Midnight Cowboy; Live and Let Die; Missouri Breaks; Ryan’s Daughter; Sleeper; and Last Tango in paris.
I recall that there was a Horn and Hardart nearby where we could pick up a snack while waiting for the bus home.
It’s interesting to hear that the Meadows opened with a “Hollywood Preview” because it’s the only place I ever saw such things, in the early 70’s. Not the “previews” common today, in which a film is sneaked a week in advance of opening to build word-of-mouth, but a showing of a work-in-progress, after which the audience filled out detailed comment cards.
The Previews were a free addition after a regular Saturday night show. They were announced in an ad, but were never identified — which made for a lot of excitement and anticipation. We never saw a classic — the best was “The Anderson Tapes”, with Sean Connery. Other films we saw previewed was a horribly depressing Australian film called “Outback” — too bad it was several years ahead of the Aussie movoe craze — and “Pieces of Dreams”, with Robert Forster, a blah romantic drama about a priest in love. We felt a bit of parental pride when the films finally came out, several months later, knowing that our input might have affected the final cut.