Jun 30, 2020
America’s Great—If Small—Return to Drive-In Theaters
This news has been received from: wired.com
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Drive-ins don’t usually have Rite Aids. Or post offices. They certainly don’t open with a kid in a T-shirt reading a message off their phone advising everyone to “wear a mask when leaving your car.” This place, though, isn’t a typical drive-in. It’s the parking lot of the Bel Aire Diner in Astoria, Queens, converted into a movie venue in the interest of keeping the restaurant’s staff employed and its customers safe from Covid-19.Like every other place on lockdown, it’s making it work.Related StoriesDigital Culture Doomscrolling Is Slowly Eroding Your Mental Health
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On this particularly mild night in June, that means screening a documentary called Olympia, about Academy Award winner Olympia Dukakis. The actress is Greek, after all, and Astoria is home to a large Greek population. So when their opening night at Manhattan’s Quad Cinema got nixed by the coronavirus lockdowns, the movie’s producer and director—Anthoula Katsimatides and Harry Mavromichalis, respectively—decided to take it to the Bel Aire, which has been holding its parking lot screenings since it erected—or, rather, inflated—a portable screen and started playing movies like Grease and Dirty Dancing in early May. Although Olympia is a relatively unknown film, tonight’s screening is sold out: 45 cars total. They almost always sell out. The filmmakers couldn’t be more pleased. “Out of this horrible Covid thing that has happened,” Mavromichalis says, “you have little things like this that are just, I think to me, beautiful.”
Depending on where you live and the current state of your region's stay-at-home orders, chances are you’ve noticed an increased awareness of drive-in movie theaters. Mainstays of mid-century Americana, most of them shut down long ago, unable to compete with the the cushy stadium seats, eye-popping visuals, and surround sound of multiplexes. But not all—there are still 305 such establishments in the US, according to the United Drive-In Theater Owners Association, and in the days of Covid-19, these and newer pop-ups have proven invaluable to people dying to be outside and entertained while also wearing masks and maintaining social distance.
Really, there isn’t a better metaphor than the drive-in for the current state of socializing in many American cities. People are together, or alone—or together alone—in individual clusters, isolated from each other while also sharing in the same experience. The coronavirus lockdowns have forced many people to rethink not only how they work and live but also how they share experiences with other people. Restaurants, bars, theaters, events—all of the staples of public engagement and human interaction have been altered, possibly permanently. In that shuffle, old modes, like drive-ins, have been pulled from the dustbin, a renaissance that could continue after every state is reopened.
Dorothea Mayes is witnessing this firsthand. Mayes has owned the Skyline Drive-In outside of Olympia, Washington, since 2004 (it first opened in 1964), and when people started searching for ways to hang out during the state's stay-at-home orders, she started seeing a lot more people show up at her 312-car theater, close to double her usual attendance. People from Seattle, people from Bellevue—both over an hour's drive away. “Social distancing is built in, so people who are very hungry to get out are coming," Mayes says. “People are making dates to see each other. They bring their lawn chairs and they sit in front of their cars and they visit. They make play dates.”
The reawakening isn’t just confined to established drive-ins, either. This summer, Tribeca Film is hosting pop-up drive-ins in New York, Texas, and the Rose Bowl in Pasadena, California. There’s a plan to turn the parking lot at Yankee Stadium into a drive-in, as well as similar efforts in Brooklyn’s Greenpoint neighborhood. Then there’s the Bel Aire's auto theater, which not only gives folks in Astoria a way to watch movies but also provides jobs for the diner’s front-of-house staff, all of whom had been furloughed when the restaurant closed its doors to eat-in customers. The Bel Aire didn’t close during the coronavirus lockdown—they do a brisk delivery business in the neighborhood—but during the first two weeks, business was down 70 percent compared to what it normally would be, says general manager Kal Dellaportas. “We’re a big place, we’ve been here a long time— but that’s scary,” he says. Once the drive-in opened, that figure changed to 30 percent. “We’ve been able to hire back almost all of our workers. Maybe not for 40 hours, but maybe for 20 hours a week and to get people out of the house. It’s helped a lot.”
It’s also helped movie-starved fans. Most movie theaters shut down, along with many other businesses, in mid-March. In a world where states were saying that everyone must try to maintain a social distance of 6 feet, filling a multiplex on opening night was impossible. As a result, studios have postponed many big summer releases—Wonder Woman 1984, Black Widow, Candyman—and sent other films, like Trolls World Tour, to video-on-demand. Yet people still want to see movies in the summer, even without the promise of air-conditioning. That’s led to an increase in drive-in attendance, even if what’s being shown are older films like Grease or Forrest Gump.
None of which is to say drive-ins can even make a dent in what Hollywood has lost in revenue. According to Patrick Corcoran, the vice president of the National Association of Theater Owners, movie theater revenues dropped to nearly zero during the shutdown, and theater chains are now facing bankruptcy even as states are starting to lift stay-at-home orders and business restrictions. Some 300 drive-ins won’t make much of a difference, even if summer is their peak season. “I think you’ve got people who were maybe vaguely aware of drive-ins who are going out to one and thinking, ‘Oh, that was fun,’” Corcoran says. “But I’m really wary about predicting that how people are behaving now will translate to where it will be six months or a year from now.”
That’s probably a safe bet—one that Mayes puts a finer point on: “Once we have a vaccine, the drive-ins will take a back seat again.” But in terms of how people socialize in the future, there is hope that the drive-in renaissance could continue. Very few people ordered burgers and beers in movie theaters before Alamo Drafthouse came along; now everyone wants to. At drive-ins, you can bring your own comfy chair (and sneak in other contraband).
This past weekend, director Jen Rainin’s movie, Ahead of the Curve, had its world premiere at the West Solano Drive-In in Concord, California. The film was supposed to premiere as part of Frameline, the Bay Area’s LGBTQ+ film festival, but like so many other film festivals, most of the Frameline programming was moved to virtual screenings this year. Then the idea of a drive-in screening came up, and she went for it. Ahead of the Curve is a documentary about the founding of lesbian magazine Curve; since Saturday, the day the movie screened, would’ve been San Francisco’s annual Dyke March and Pride events, the drive-in offered an opportunity for the queer community to come together in a way that might otherwise have been lost. Rainin is grateful. “This is one of the sweet joys that has been overlooked for some number of years that will make a resurgence,” Rainin says. “The upside to this incredibly challenging situation is that for many people we’re rediscovering past pleasures. I think they’re coming back, and I think the drive-in is one of them.”
News Source: wired.com
Thais bid addio to theater where they fell in love with film
BANGKOK (AP) — If Hollywood is where dreams are made, Bangkok’s Scala theater for the past 51 years was where Thais immersed themselves in the old-fashioned blockbusters of war, the heart-felt romances and quirky comedies.
Now only the memories will remain. The picture palace in the center of Thailand’s capital, the city’s last standalone big-screen cinema, on Sunday screened its final offering.
It was a piquant choice, 1988′s “Cinema Paradiso,” a nostalgic Oscar-winning Italian film about a bygone movie house in a Sicilian village. The Scala’s marquee on opening day in 1969 boasted John Wayne in “The Undefeated.”
Scala owner Nanta Tansacha wistfully recalled being enthralled even when the venue was still just a set of blueprints her father showed her.
“I do think it’s a beautiful place, the most beautiful one I ever think that we can ever build. And I think no one will build cinemas like this in the future,” she told The Associated Press in an interview.
Two other theaters once stood nearby, but one burned down during political turmoil in 2010, and the other shut its doors two years ago after being remodeled as a multiplex in its sunset years.
Nanta said the coronavirus was the tipping point for the Scala, whose lease was up at the end of the year anyway. More than two months of a government-ordered shutdown of entertainment places choked off its already modest cash flow.
The economics of the 900-seat, single-screen cinema limited to five or six showings a day were virtually unsustainable when malls just across the road had smaller theaters, multiple screens and dozens of showings daily.
However, to its fans, the Scala experience was not only about what was projected on the screen.
“I’ve never seen another movie theater like it anywhere in the world,” said Philip Jablon, a U.S. researcher who has documented Southeast Asia’s stand-alone cinemas in a blog and a book. “Some people call it art deco. I’ve heard it referred to as overwrought rococo. It’s a very unique mix of modernism, modern architecture, combined with very flashy, glitzy, almost vintage style of architecture.”
And the theater’s huge, curved screen made it a great place to watch a movie, Jablon told AP in an online interview. “It’s got perfect sight lines almost anywhere you sit. It’s just a very unique building, well-designed.”
Movie-goers could meet their friends inside the open-air ground floor, sweep up the curved staircases, and hand over their tickets to neatly uniformed ushers before settling into their seats.
Pattarapon Jitbanchong keeps a collection of old Scala tickets framed on her wall at home, and proudly displayed some of them Sunday.
“Each ticket has a story of its own,” said the 42-year-old former makeup artist turned fortuneteller. “What I was doing on the day, who I went with, what I was wearing, who was my boyfriend and who were my friends. When I look at the tickets, the memories flood back.”
Kong Rithdee, deputy director of the Thai Film Archive, described the Scala as both an emotional and a historical landmark.
“A lot of people who grew up in Bangkok came to see movies here, so this is a place where there is a lot of collective memory of the people who grew up in Bangkok,” Kong said. “And as a symbol, it’s a place of elegance, it’s a place where cinema is celebrated, whereas in the modern era of multiplexes, cinemas are utilitarian.”
For Scala owner Nanta, the closing is very personal.
“I feel very sad, this is my life. This is my home. This is my house. And this is all my people,” she said, surveying a crowd of movie fans who came to a sort of open house she arranged last Friday.
When they opened the theater, they threw on the lights, and proudly showed it off, she said.
“And when it’s time to close the curtain, I want to close it in style. So that’s why I turn on all the lights. I ask people to come and take photos to get good memories,” said Nanta. A message wall carried Post-it notes with recollections and good wishes.
To a piped soundtrack of sentimental music, the crowd of movie fans snapped souvenir photos of its extravagant interior and remembered when its heyday, and theirs, intertwined.
Posing in the empty box office, and clutching a ticket she had purchased for the last show, 56-year-old Wanpen Lerdrungroj recalled the key role the Scala played in her youth.
“When I was a teenager, I came to see movies here and I had a date with my boyfriend, who is now the father of my children,” she said. She traveled from Thonburi, on the other side of Bangkok’s Chao Phraya River. He had a slightly shorter journey, from the city’s Din Daeng neighborhood.
“We would meet here to see a movie,” she said.
The Scala’s landlord, neighboring Chulalongkorn University, has not yet declared whether it will tear down this movie-goers’ shrine.
”The idea that that this would be slated for demolition is kind of mind-boggling,” said theater researcher Jablon.
“You know, this type of building just doesn’t exist anymore,” he said. “So it’s important to hang on to at least one example.”
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