By PETER SINCLAIR
Do kids today feel the same as I did when they enter a movie theatre?
In the 50s, that tense, grey decade, dreams were in short supply. Those there were could only be found in cinemas, and on Saturday nights the streets filled with crowds of people making their
way towards the temples of those magnificent shadows, the Bettes and Brads and Burts of my youth.
Odeon ... Tivoli ... Plaza. The names had a magical ring. In the context of the movies, civic implied not drainage but dreams.
Nor has the magic quite drained out of them, even now. It can be recaptured in cyberspace, as I did recently, at sites like www.civictheatre.co.nz, where you can tour our own Mighty Civic to inspect the restoration of one of New Zealand's principal glories.
Once more, thanks to Jasmax, stars stud the heavens at the corner of Queen and Wellesley streets — but these are 21st-century stars, fibre-optic constellations whose twinkling is electronically controlled.
The refurbished interior is recalled by those who saw it when it was new: "It was all pure magic — the interior ... was transformed into an Indian mogul's palace, with towers and minarets under an enormous starlit sky ... Then a complete orchestra floated up from the darkened depths in front of the curtain, followed by a mighty organ filling the theatre with its sound. Then organ and orchestra slowly sank back unto the darkness as three sets of curtain rose and parted, quickly, one after the other, revealing the magic screen and its moving shadows ..."
Now that's what I call going to the movies.
The Civic is matched by only a few other cinemas in history. Its chief rival is its contemporary, the fabled Grauman's Chinese Theatre on Hollywood Boulevard, built in 1927 just in time for the original silent version of DeMille's King Of Kings and the venue for more gala premieres than any other. In 1939, for example, more than 10,000 people showed up for the opening of The Wizard Of Oz.
Its famous forecourt immortalises Hollywood's greatest names (or, in Jimmy Durante's case, nose) in cement. Even R2D2 has left its treadmarks there.
It was conceived by Sid Grauman, who was also res-ponsible in 1922 for the nearby Egyptian Theatre, inspired by the discovery of King Tut's tomb that same year. Guarded by a towering figure of the dog-headed Egyptian god Anubis, it was the scene of Hollywood's first movie premiere, Robin Hood, with Douglas Fairbanks and Wallace Beery.
Seating 1760, the Egyptian screened the original Ben Hur for two straight years. Later, South Pacific and My Fair Lady ran for an entire year each.
Four years later, the El Capitan opened as a live theatre featuring stage plays with stars like Clark Gable, Buster Keaton, Will Rogers, Charlie Chaplin ... Like so many of the great originals, it fell on hard times; but now, acquired by the Disney Corporation, it's been again transformed into a classic movie palace.
You can buy tickets online at Disney.go.com.
Finally, visit www.linkopp.com for information not only on current or renovated theatres, but also those which have been abandoned or partly demolished over time.
It's a moving experience; for the dreams still haunt even these silent shells.
Links:
Civic Theatre
Jasmax
Grauman's Chinese Theatre
Egyptian Theatre
El Capitan
El Capitan tickets
www.linkopp.com
E-mail: petersinclair@email.com
Peter Sinclair: The golden age of theatres
By PETER SINCLAIR
Do kids today feel the same as I did when they enter a movie theatre?
In the 50s, that tense, grey decade, dreams were in short supply. Those there were could only be found in cinemas, and on Saturday nights the streets filled with crowds of people making their
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