It’s a hot soap from ’65, when movies promised raging passion but delivered cheap teases and hypocritical judgments. It’s Suzanne Pleshette’s only starring role, but it doesn’t exploit her bright personality, her sense of humor. John O’Hara’s tale hasn’t much pity for a promiscuous young wife who breaks the rules. Does nymphomania make her a social menace, or is she victimized by a script determined to put the blame on Mame? Costarring Ben Gazzara, Bradford Dillman and Peter Graves.
A Rage to Live
Blu-ray
Viavision [Imprint] 197
1965 / B&w / 2:35 widescreen / 101 min. / Street Date December 28, 2022 / Available from [Imprint] / aud 34.98
Starring: Suzanne Pleshette, Bradford Dillman, Ben Gazzara, Peter Graves, Bethel Leslie, Carmen Mathews, Linden Chiles, James Gregory, Ruth White, Mark Goddard, Sarah Marshall, George Furth, Virginia Christine, Aneta Corsaut, Frank Maxwell, Almira Sessions.
Cinematography: Charles Lawton Jr.
Costume Designer: Howard Shoup
Art Director: James Sullivan
Film Editor: Stuart Gilmore...
A Rage to Live
Blu-ray
Viavision [Imprint] 197
1965 / B&w / 2:35 widescreen / 101 min. / Street Date December 28, 2022 / Available from [Imprint] / aud 34.98
Starring: Suzanne Pleshette, Bradford Dillman, Ben Gazzara, Peter Graves, Bethel Leslie, Carmen Mathews, Linden Chiles, James Gregory, Ruth White, Mark Goddard, Sarah Marshall, George Furth, Virginia Christine, Aneta Corsaut, Frank Maxwell, Almira Sessions.
Cinematography: Charles Lawton Jr.
Costume Designer: Howard Shoup
Art Director: James Sullivan
Film Editor: Stuart Gilmore...
- 2/7/2023
- by Glenn Erickson
- Trailers from Hell
Twilight Time is celebrating its 4th anniversary with a major promotion that sees some of their limited edition titles reduced in price through April 3. These are the titles on sale.
Group 1
Retail price point: $24.95
Picnic
Pal Joey
Bite The Bullet
Bell, Book, And Candle
Bye Bye Birdie
In Like Flint
Major Dundee
The Blue Max
Crimes And Misdemeanors
Used Cars
Thunderbirds Are Go / Thunderbird 6
Group 2
Retail price point: $19.95
Rapture
Roots Of Heaven
Swamp Water
Demetrius And The Gladiators
Desiree
The Wayward Bus
Cover Girl
High Time
The Sound And The Fury
The Rains Of Ranchipur
Bonjour Tristesse
Beloved Infidel
Lost Horizon
The Blue Lagoon
Experiment In Terror
Nicholas And Alexandra
Pony Soldier
The Song Of Bernadette
Philadelphia
The Only Game In Town
Love Is A Many Splendored Thing
Sleepless In Seattle
The Disappearance
Sexy Beast
Drums Along The Mohawk
Alamo Bay
The Other
Mindwarp
Jane Eyre
Oliver
The Way We Were...
Group 1
Retail price point: $24.95
Picnic
Pal Joey
Bite The Bullet
Bell, Book, And Candle
Bye Bye Birdie
In Like Flint
Major Dundee
The Blue Max
Crimes And Misdemeanors
Used Cars
Thunderbirds Are Go / Thunderbird 6
Group 2
Retail price point: $19.95
Rapture
Roots Of Heaven
Swamp Water
Demetrius And The Gladiators
Desiree
The Wayward Bus
Cover Girl
High Time
The Sound And The Fury
The Rains Of Ranchipur
Bonjour Tristesse
Beloved Infidel
Lost Horizon
The Blue Lagoon
Experiment In Terror
Nicholas And Alexandra
Pony Soldier
The Song Of Bernadette
Philadelphia
The Only Game In Town
Love Is A Many Splendored Thing
Sleepless In Seattle
The Disappearance
Sexy Beast
Drums Along The Mohawk
Alamo Bay
The Other
Mindwarp
Jane Eyre
Oliver
The Way We Were...
- 3/31/2015
- by nospam@example.com (Cinema Retro)
- Cinemaretro.com
Taylor in the 1960 screen version of The Time Machine.
By Lee Pfeiffer
If the year 2014 proved to be an exceptionally cruel one in terms of the number of legendary celebrities who passed away, the new year is off to an equally depressing start with the news that Rod Taylor has passed away at age 84. Taylor, who was two days away from his 85th birthday, died suddenly from a heart attack following a dinner party at his home. He was surrounded by friends and family when the end came. Taylor was a solid leading man who came to prominence in the late 1950s. Although Australian by birth, the ruggedly handsome Taylor could effectively play Brits, Irishmen and Americans with convincing ease. He first gained attention with supporting roles in high profile, big Hollywood studio productions in the late 1950s such as "Raintree County" and "Separate Tables". His breakthrough role came in...
By Lee Pfeiffer
If the year 2014 proved to be an exceptionally cruel one in terms of the number of legendary celebrities who passed away, the new year is off to an equally depressing start with the news that Rod Taylor has passed away at age 84. Taylor, who was two days away from his 85th birthday, died suddenly from a heart attack following a dinner party at his home. He was surrounded by friends and family when the end came. Taylor was a solid leading man who came to prominence in the late 1950s. Although Australian by birth, the ruggedly handsome Taylor could effectively play Brits, Irishmen and Americans with convincing ease. He first gained attention with supporting roles in high profile, big Hollywood studio productions in the late 1950s such as "Raintree County" and "Separate Tables". His breakthrough role came in...
- 1/9/2015
- by nospam@example.com (Cinema Retro)
- Cinemaretro.com
People.com is reporting that actor Rod Taylor died Wednesday at the age of 84 of natural causes.
His daughter Felicia Taylor, a former CNN correspondent, confirmed the news Thursday.
“My dad loved his work. Being an actor was his passion – calling it an honorable art and something he couldn’t live without,” she said in a statement.
“He once said, ‘I am a poor student sitting at the feet of giants, yearning for their wisdom and begging for lessons that might one day make me a complete artist,” she continued, “ ‘so that if all goes well, I may one day sit beside them.”
Born on Jan 11, 1930 in Sydney, Australia, Rod Taylor is best remembered for his starring roles in Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds (1963) and George Pal’s The Time Machine (1960). He also provided the voice of Pongo in Disney’s 101 Dalmatians (1961). Taylor also starred in TV’s “The Twilight Zone...
His daughter Felicia Taylor, a former CNN correspondent, confirmed the news Thursday.
“My dad loved his work. Being an actor was his passion – calling it an honorable art and something he couldn’t live without,” she said in a statement.
“He once said, ‘I am a poor student sitting at the feet of giants, yearning for their wisdom and begging for lessons that might one day make me a complete artist,” she continued, “ ‘so that if all goes well, I may one day sit beside them.”
Born on Jan 11, 1930 in Sydney, Australia, Rod Taylor is best remembered for his starring roles in Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds (1963) and George Pal’s The Time Machine (1960). He also provided the voice of Pongo in Disney’s 101 Dalmatians (1961). Taylor also starred in TV’s “The Twilight Zone...
- 1/9/2015
- by Movie Geeks
- WeAreMovieGeeks.com
Blu-ray Release Date: May 13, 2014
Price: Blu-ray $29.95
Studio: Twilight Time
Nancy Kwan and Glenn Ford investigate an airplane disaster in Fate Is the Hunter.
In May, Fate Is the Hunter, the 1964 mystery drama film directed by Ralph Nelson about the drama revolving around an ill-fated commercial airline flight, makes its Blu-ray debut from Twilight Time.
From the 1961 best seller by aviation author Ernest K. Gann, Fate Is the Hunter details a horrific airplane crash and, in its aftermath, the desperate attempt to discover what brought plane, passengers, and crew to their fiery fate. Directed by Ralph Nelson, with striking black-and-white cinematography by Milton Krasner (All About Eve), Fate is a combination of disaster movie and mystery that interweaves the stories of a dogged investigator (Glenn Ford, 3:10 to Yuma)), the doomed pilot (Rod Taylor, The Time Machine), his bereaved girlfriend (Nancy Kwan, Flower Drum Song), and the tragedy’s sole survivor (Suzanne Pleshette,...
Price: Blu-ray $29.95
Studio: Twilight Time
Nancy Kwan and Glenn Ford investigate an airplane disaster in Fate Is the Hunter.
In May, Fate Is the Hunter, the 1964 mystery drama film directed by Ralph Nelson about the drama revolving around an ill-fated commercial airline flight, makes its Blu-ray debut from Twilight Time.
From the 1961 best seller by aviation author Ernest K. Gann, Fate Is the Hunter details a horrific airplane crash and, in its aftermath, the desperate attempt to discover what brought plane, passengers, and crew to their fiery fate. Directed by Ralph Nelson, with striking black-and-white cinematography by Milton Krasner (All About Eve), Fate is a combination of disaster movie and mystery that interweaves the stories of a dogged investigator (Glenn Ford, 3:10 to Yuma)), the doomed pilot (Rod Taylor, The Time Machine), his bereaved girlfriend (Nancy Kwan, Flower Drum Song), and the tragedy’s sole survivor (Suzanne Pleshette,...
- 4/28/2014
- by Laurence
- Disc Dish
The gray rolling seas thundered through the forest of pilings under the piers, sometimes cresting enough to send a geyser of wind-whipped froth up onto the decking. Other places, it poured through the gaps the wind and tide had eaten through the dunes and poured into the beach town streets. It pulled boats large and small from their moorings in the lagoon marinas and piled them like a child’s toys up on the land. Some in apartment buildings would tell of the cars in the ground level garage floating against each other bathtub playthings. But there was nothing childlike in the way it took entire houses, made seaside villages look like an extension of the ocean and not the land.
For the day and a half I watched Hurricane Sandy pound my home state of New Jersey – which was all the time I had before I lost my cable...
For the day and a half I watched Hurricane Sandy pound my home state of New Jersey – which was all the time I had before I lost my cable...
- 11/2/2012
- by Bill Mesce
- SoundOnSight
It’S Sold Out!!! That means if you are holding or have ordered your copy of the the 199o Tom Savini remake of Night of the Living Dead as released by Twilight Time you are holding a thing of value, clearly collectible and highly in demand. Your dilemma now, before you open it, is if you wanna pawn it on Ebay to make a quick $200 or do you wanna rip open the packaging, smell the beautiful 8 page booklet inside and be a part of an elite club of 3000 folks who “got in” while the getting was good. There’s no guarantee that you won’t see another pressing of this release; Twilight Time is more than clear about that always being a potential. What should be fair to say is that if you are fan of this movie and you love Blu-ray, this is a disc that you should have in your collection.
- 10/5/2012
- by Jimmy Terror
- The Liberal Dead
Somehow we’d fallen into calling her “Luce the Moose.” No one even remembers why. After that, I used to buy her some kind of moose – a stuffed doll, a carving, anything – every Christmas. Her given name was Lucy Sylvia Mesce. Lucia, actually, but other than her immigrant parents, I don’t think anybody ever called her that.
She passed away from a sudden cardiac arrest on Monday, April 2, sometime around 5:30 p.m., at the age of 81.
She was my mother.
We are, each of us, at any given instant, the sum total of our lives. Everything that we have seen and heard, the people that we have known and the experiences we have had shape us, influence us, nudge and shove us this way and that. And all of it – even that which we have forgotten or thought we had completely ignored or considered so minor as to be irrelevant – leaves some trace,...
She passed away from a sudden cardiac arrest on Monday, April 2, sometime around 5:30 p.m., at the age of 81.
She was my mother.
We are, each of us, at any given instant, the sum total of our lives. Everything that we have seen and heard, the people that we have known and the experiences we have had shape us, influence us, nudge and shove us this way and that. And all of it – even that which we have forgotten or thought we had completely ignored or considered so minor as to be irrelevant – leaves some trace,...
- 4/16/2012
- by Bill Mesce
- SoundOnSight
We all know Ira Deutchman, but for the record, Ira has been making, marketing and distributing films since 1975, having worked on over 150 films including some of the most successful independent films of all time. He was one of the founders of Cinecom and later created Fine Line Features—two companies that were created from scratch and in their respective times, helped define the independent film business. Currently Deutchman is Managing Partner of Emerging Pictures, a New York-based digital exhibition company. He is also a Professor of Professional Practice in the Graduate Film Division of the School of the Arts at Columbia University, where he is the head of the Producing Program. He is also active in Art House Convergence and wrote this inspirational blog for them. It inspired my own reminiscence which was quite fun to do. It will go up tomorrow. I hope my readers enjoy this. If it inspires you, I will publish yours here as well.
Posted on October 3, 2011 by Ira Deutchman
I grew up in movie theaters. At a very young age, my mother started bringing me to matinees and later we would pile the family into the car and head to the local drive-in for double features. In my adolescent and teenage years, the fact that my family moved around so much meant that I had few friends. I spent all my spare time in movie theaters. By the time I went to college, movies were my life. I used to pride myself on the fact that I could name the theater where I saw every film I’d ever seen.
On a recent trip to Chicago, I walked around the Loop–the site of many of my most formative movie moments–and was astonished to see how little was left of what was one of the most beautiful movie theater districts anywhere. It made me very sad, but motivated me to write this piece about the movie theaters for which I have the fondest memories. They are in chronological order according to where they fit in my life.
The Park Plaza Theater in the Bronx was most likely my first movie theater experience. It was only a few blocks from where we lived, and this is where my mother first exposed me to movies. I remember the matrons in their white suits and flashlights trying to keep the kids–who were required to sit in a separate section unless they were accompanied by parents–quiet. The first movie I actually remember was a film that terrified me at the time. It had images that stuck with me throughout my life, even though I couldn’t remember what film it was. It was only as an adult that I realized that the movie I had seen was “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.”
Loews Paradise, also in the Bronx, was a magnificent place. Even as a kid, going there to see a movie was a special occasion. I remember being on a shopping expedition with my mother to Alexander’s (right across the street from the Paradise) and seeing banners and posters for ”Tom Thumb” with Russ Tamblyn as the little guy. I became obsessed with seeing that film, until my parents finally gave in and brought me to see it–even though it would have been cheaper to wait for it to play in a closer neighborhood theater.
Another memory that sticks with me is when I went to see a Jerry Lewis film at the Paradise–I think it may have been “The Bellboy”–with a neighbor who used to babysit for me. She was a huge Jerry Lewis fan and, throughout the film, she was laughing so hard, she kept hitting me.
In the early ’60s, my family moved to the south side of Chicago. My neighborhood movie theaters were only a short walk from where we lived. Almost every weekend, I went to see whatever was playing at those theaters. There was theHamilton and the Jeffery,both on 71st Street, and theChelton on 79th. Since this was before the ratings system, there were many films coming out that I wanted to see that had been designated as “adults only,” so I was prevented from seeing them without my parents. Fortunately, every Sunday the Chelton had a special kiddie matinee for 25 cents admission. As the kiddie film was ending, if you hid out in the men’s room, you could wait until after they cleared the theater and stay to see the adult film that came afterward. So every Sunday, I dragged my brother Larry to the Chelton and for a quarter (he got in free), we saw such “adult” films as “The Spy Who Came in From the Cold,” “Fate is the Hunter,” and “Goldfinger” (which my parents were furious about my having seen once they saw the provocative poster). They had no idea that I was in the process of reading all the James Bond books, which were far racier than the films.
Another neighborhood theater was the Avalon, which was a huge movie palace and as magnificent as the Paradise. When something played at the Avalon, it was well worth walking the slightly extra distance to see it there. The Avalon mostly played big event movies after they completed their downtown roadshow runs, like “Lawrence of Arabia” and “West Side Story.”
One day, I heard that the Avalon was one of a dozen or so theaters in the Chicago area that was going to have a special screening of “Having A Wild Weekend,” and that the Dave Clark Five were going to appear in person at the theater. Apparently, the promoters had timed things so that the group could appear at each of the theaters where the film would be playing that day. The big show at the Avalon was a Saturday morning matinee. I got in line early, and was shaking with excitement when I realized that I would indeed get in. There were more than 2,500 seats and the place was packed. A man came out on stage and announced that the group would be making its appearance before the film, and would be there momentarily. The crowd started to scream. Moments later, the Dave Clark Five marched out on stage, and the place went wild. There was a scuffle near the stage and the next thing we knew, the five of them had left the stage. The lights went off and the movie started. The next morning, it was in the newspaper that one of the group had suffered a broken wrist in the “near-riot” that ensued at the Avalon.
After awhile, I began to get impatient waiting for new movies to make it to the neighborhood theaters. I was also old enough to go to the Loop by myself, either by taking the Illinois Central train or, in good weather, riding my bicycle along Lake Michigan.
The theaters in the Loop started running shows at 9am, sometimes with no one in the audience. Many years later, when I was already in the film business, I was told that the Chicago projectionists union was one of the strongest in the country, and that the projectionists had to be paid for the full day whether there were shows or not. So most of the theaters simply opted to go ahead with the shows. This was great for me, since I could get there early and see films that would have been difficult to get into later in the day.
There were many gorgeous theaters in the Loop, but I had two favorites, The United Artists and the Woods. They were both grand movie palaces and had long histories that were completely lost on me at the time. All I cared about was that they were showing the latest, greatest movies. And they knew how to market them. The theaters tried to outdo each other in terms of the special displays they created for the films that were playing. The entire fronts of the theaters were covered by photos and posters for the films. The marquees screamed out whatever sensational lines they could think of to entice people into the theaters.
Of the many films that I saw at the Woods, one of my fondest memories was seeing “A Hard Days Night” the week it opened. The place was packed with screaming kids. I was way up in the balcony. When the Beatles began singing a song, the entire audience clapped along.
My recollection is that a lot of the films that played at the Woods were horror films or thrillers. I recall seeing a few William Castle films, some of the Edgar Allen Poe adaptations by Roger Corman and, in 1967, “Wait Until Dark,” for which they advertised that all the lights in the theater would be turned off for the last few minutes of the film. I can never remember being so scared in a film.
At the United Artists, I recall stumbling into an early morning showing of ”A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum,” not knowing anything about the film other than the strange title. I laughed so hard that I went back several more times to see it.
Right down the block from those theaters were the Cinestage and the Michael Todd. These were the more prestigious theaters, where you could see the latest blockbuster roadshow releases–in many cases a completely different (longer) version of the film than would be released in the neighborhoods. At these theaters I saw “2001: A Space Odyssey” (several times) and ”The Sound of Music” (several times), among many more “event” films.
In 1967, we moved again, this time to Highland Park, in Chicago’s north suburbs. My theater of choice was the Edens Theater, which was visible from the Edens Expressway. Unlike all the previous theaters, the Edens was not an old theater. It was a modernist masterpiece and a state-of-the-art facility that frequently had exclusive runs of films for the entire North Shore. Since it was a single-screen theater, hit films would settle in and play for long periods of time. One day I went to see “Bonnie and Clyde” at the Edens; I believe that was the moment I decided I wanted to make movies some day. I’m sure the massive screen and the incredible sound at the Edens added to the experience. I went back and saw “Bonnie and Clyde” at least five times, and since I didn’t have my drivers license yet, each time I saw the film one of my parents had to drive me. One day, as I was settling into my seat in the nearly empty theater, my Dad suddenly sat down next to me. I must have looked shocked as he said to me,” You keep coming to see this film so much, I decided to see what it is you like so much.” Throughout the film, he kept looking at me, wondering what kind of pervert he was bringing up.
A year or so later, my uncle was visiting from out of town, and took me to the Esquire on the north side of Chicago to see a film that he had read was all the rage. The Esquire was a beautiful deco palace, and one of the nicest places to see a film in Chicago. I would go there many times over the years, the last time being for the premiere of “Hoop Dreams” decades later. The film was “Easy Rider,” and it was on a double bill with a foreign language film that I can’t remember. They also showed a short called “De Duva (The Dove),” a great parody of early Bergman (It’s available on YouTube). My education continued.
A couple of years later, we moved again, this time to Paramus, NJ. The most spectacular local theater was the Stanley Warner Route 4. It started as a single-screen 2,000 seat theater, added a second screen in the the mid-70′s and eventually was carved up into little pieces. I practically lived at the theater all through high school. One memorable experience was trying to get in to see “Woodstock” and being turned away because I was too young. It looked to me like they were turning away the entire interested audience.
I also spent a lot of time at the Bergen Mall Cinema, which was the local art house. Here I saw such films as “Women in Love,” Fellini’s “Satyricon,” “Zabriskie Point,” and numerous films that were distributed by Cinema 5, a company that I would end up working for a number of years later. It was eye opening, and contributed to my radicalization in my teenage years. This theater may have been a shoebox in the middle of a suburban mall, but it was responsible for expanding the horizons of the youth of Bergen County. [Interestingly, I can't find any decent pictures of either of these two theaters.]
Then it was off to Chicago again, where I went to college. In Evanston, where the Northwestern campus was located, there were two downtown theaters, the Varsity and theValencia. They were both smaller movie palaces, but by the early ’70s they were in bad shape, mostly showing grindhouse films. That didn’t mean that I didn’t check them out. Given the recreational bent of the times, hanging at those two theaters could be a lot of fun.
However, the real action was in Chicago, and there were theaters showing films for every taste. The Carnegiewas the fancy art house, playing the latest foreign language films that were being written about in the New York Times. It was architecturally undistinguished and shared the same building with Mr. Kelly’s night club and a large parking structure. But the presentation was first class.
Repertory cinema was all over town, most notably at theBiograph and at thePlayboy at Clark and Division, which my college roommate referred to as the “center of the world.” The Biograph, of course, is world famous for being the place where Dillinger was killed after seeing a movie. The seat where Dillinger sat that night was painted gold so that patrons could find it easily. There was something special about seeing a film from the ’20s or ’30s in a setting that was so authentic to that time.
The Playboy was nowhere near as atmospheric, but it’s programming was something else. By day, the theater was an art house, playing the second tier art films that couldn’t get bookings at the Carnegie. But by night the Playboy became Chicago’s best repertory house. They called it the “Playboy All-Night Show,” and it was a different double feature every night, starting at midnight. One night it would be two Marx Brothers films, the next night two Ken Russell films, the next night, two by Antonioni. It was like someone was programming my Netflix queue, only in a movie theater. You can imagine my many bleary-eyed mornings, trying to stay awake through classes after having sat through two amazing films that ended at 4:00 am or later. (Yes, that’s Roger Ebert posing in front of the Playboy.)
After college, I ended up moving to New York City. I got a job with Cinema 5, which owned and operated most of the classiest theaters in Manhattan. It was a dream come true. Every Friday, the office manager would come by everyone’s desk and hand them 4 passes to any of the theaters, with an expiration date of the following week–use it or lose it. No chance of that for me. If anything, 4 passes were hardly enough, and I took to asking around for passes that others weren’t using.
The theaters were well-kept to the point of obsessiveness. I would be asked to run over to a theater to make sure the bathrooms were clean. The presentation was classy and always top-notch.
My absolute favorite of the theaters was the Plaza, which was the most atmospheric. I experienced some of the earliest examples of the coming American Independent movement at the Plaza, including “Hester Street,” “Pumping Iron,” “Harlan County USA” and others. Since the Plaza was right around the corner from the Cinema 5 office, we had our acquisition screenings there, so I spent many a morning drinking my coffee and eating my bagel in the first row of the loge section of the theater, screening some movie that we might be interested in acquiring. After awhile, the theater manager permitted me to park my bicycle in the theater when I rode it to work.
I always loved Cinema 1 and 2 on Third Avenue. It was before they had carved it into a third theater, and before it was allowed to get run down. It was a glittering example of a thoroughly modern movie theater, eschewing curtains for a black fabric strip that would come down from the ceiling before each show to mask the proper screen ratio. I used up a lot of those Cinema 5 passes at these theaters. When I started working there, Robert Altman’s “Nashville” was just beginning a record-setting run at Cinema 2. I had already seen the film once at the Esquire before leaving Chicago, but now I had the chance to see it over and over again, and I did. I probably saw the film 20 times in my first six months working at the company.
Another favorite was the Beekman. It was an art deco jewel, and probably the most beautiful movie theater that I’d ever seen that was built to be a movie theater. Woody Allen also loved the Beekman, and typically insisted that his films open there. I recall seeing “Love and Death” many times at the Beekman.
But I didn’t spend all of my time at the Cinema 5 theaters. I still had a taste for older films and frequented Dan Talbot’s New Yorker, and the Thalia, both of which were in the neighborhood where I lived. This was the golden age of double features, and the New York rep houses were trying to outdo each other in the cleverness of their programming.
In the years since, as my career led me to do business with many of the theaters I grew up with, I never lost my fondness for them. But one-by-one, just about all the theaters I have mentioned disappeared. The Thalia still exists, but the original parabolic floor has been straightened out and there is no longer any fixed seating. Cinema 1 & 2 have spawned a 3rd screen that has wrecked the perfect symmetry of the other two. The Biograph has been renovated and is being used by a theater company. The Esquire was cut up into smaller theaters many years ago, and now sits empty. The Avalon also sits abandoned. The Paradise is still there and has recently been partially restored, but it’s mainly used for events. All the rest are gone.
If you enjoy this subject, you owe it to yourself to check out the Cinema Treasures web site. I found many of the photos used in this piece on that site under a Creative Commons license. Full photo credits below:
Photo Credits:
Park Plaza: NYCago.com
Loews Paradise: Brad Smith, Cinema Treasures
Hamilton: Nick Coston, Cinema Treasures
Jeffery: Senorsock, Cinema Treasure
Avalon: Ira Deutchman
Woods: John P. Keating Jr, Cinema Treasures
United Artists: John P. Keating Jr, Cinema Treasures
Michael Todd: John P Keating Jr, Cinema Treasures
Edens: Didi, Dim Beauty of Chicago
Esquire: Ira Deutchman
Varsity: Ira Deutchman
Carnegie: David Zornig, Cinema Treasures
Biograph: Norman Plant, Cinema Treasures
Playboy: Tim O’Neill, Cinema Treasures
Plaza: William, Cinema Treasures
Cinema 1&2: Dave-Bronx, Cinema Treasures
Beekman: Patrick Crowley, Cinema Treasures
New Yorker: MovieswithDad, Cinema Treasures This entry was posted in Film and tagged Bronx, Chicago, Highland Park, Movie Theaters, New York City, Paramus. Bookmark the permalink. ← Master Class: Independent Film Financing Let River Rest in Peace → 5 Responses to Movie Theaters I’ve Known and Loved Sydney Levine says: October 3, 2011 at 8:57 pm
I love this! I’ll try to do it…just the photos. you write better than I
Jordi Wijnalda says: October 3, 2011 at 10:48 pm
Wow, Ira – this really hit home for me. No, I have not experienced any of this first-hand myself, but it once again reaffirmed for me that a different decade might have been better for me… In some ways, at least. Thanks a lot for sharing this!
Juliet Goodfriend says: October 5, 2011 at 10:10 am
Ira, your memory is as awesome as your love of, and history in, films and theaters. Thanks, for the memories..da dah da dah da daah, etc (I can’t even remember the lyrics!).
Juliet
DanZee says: October 5, 2011 at 4:12 pm
Unfortunately theaters bear the scars of the ups and downs of the movie industry. During the Golden Age of Hollywood, you had huge theaters showing films continuously to large masses of coming-and-going people. The television age shifted that to films you couldn’t (yet) see on TV, such as long-running “event” pictures or a constantly changing schedule of foreign and repertory films. During the 1980s, the film studios revved up production again using independent producers (and their money) that shifted theaters to a multiplex design of more screens but smaller “box” theaters. The older theaters were abandoned or cut up, and even today theater owners skimp on building maintenance. Just as the old movie palaces have met the wrecking ball, throughout the 2000′s multiplexes have been plowed over for newer restaurant-themed superplexes. And at some point, even they will be replaced with something different. It’s all a cycle.
Carl Spence says: October 11, 2011 at 3:30 am
The timing of this article is fortuitous as we are re-opening a 85 year old movie palace – the uptown cinemas from October 20th in Seattle. It has the original single screen with the addition of two smaller stadium auditoriums that were added next door in the mid-80s. We are currently restoring the 50s marquee and getting the place ready to open in a short amount of time. Very exciting times in Seattle for movie going!
Posted on October 3, 2011 by Ira Deutchman
I grew up in movie theaters. At a very young age, my mother started bringing me to matinees and later we would pile the family into the car and head to the local drive-in for double features. In my adolescent and teenage years, the fact that my family moved around so much meant that I had few friends. I spent all my spare time in movie theaters. By the time I went to college, movies were my life. I used to pride myself on the fact that I could name the theater where I saw every film I’d ever seen.
On a recent trip to Chicago, I walked around the Loop–the site of many of my most formative movie moments–and was astonished to see how little was left of what was one of the most beautiful movie theater districts anywhere. It made me very sad, but motivated me to write this piece about the movie theaters for which I have the fondest memories. They are in chronological order according to where they fit in my life.
The Park Plaza Theater in the Bronx was most likely my first movie theater experience. It was only a few blocks from where we lived, and this is where my mother first exposed me to movies. I remember the matrons in their white suits and flashlights trying to keep the kids–who were required to sit in a separate section unless they were accompanied by parents–quiet. The first movie I actually remember was a film that terrified me at the time. It had images that stuck with me throughout my life, even though I couldn’t remember what film it was. It was only as an adult that I realized that the movie I had seen was “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.”
Loews Paradise, also in the Bronx, was a magnificent place. Even as a kid, going there to see a movie was a special occasion. I remember being on a shopping expedition with my mother to Alexander’s (right across the street from the Paradise) and seeing banners and posters for ”Tom Thumb” with Russ Tamblyn as the little guy. I became obsessed with seeing that film, until my parents finally gave in and brought me to see it–even though it would have been cheaper to wait for it to play in a closer neighborhood theater.
Another memory that sticks with me is when I went to see a Jerry Lewis film at the Paradise–I think it may have been “The Bellboy”–with a neighbor who used to babysit for me. She was a huge Jerry Lewis fan and, throughout the film, she was laughing so hard, she kept hitting me.
In the early ’60s, my family moved to the south side of Chicago. My neighborhood movie theaters were only a short walk from where we lived. Almost every weekend, I went to see whatever was playing at those theaters. There was theHamilton and the Jeffery,both on 71st Street, and theChelton on 79th. Since this was before the ratings system, there were many films coming out that I wanted to see that had been designated as “adults only,” so I was prevented from seeing them without my parents. Fortunately, every Sunday the Chelton had a special kiddie matinee for 25 cents admission. As the kiddie film was ending, if you hid out in the men’s room, you could wait until after they cleared the theater and stay to see the adult film that came afterward. So every Sunday, I dragged my brother Larry to the Chelton and for a quarter (he got in free), we saw such “adult” films as “The Spy Who Came in From the Cold,” “Fate is the Hunter,” and “Goldfinger” (which my parents were furious about my having seen once they saw the provocative poster). They had no idea that I was in the process of reading all the James Bond books, which were far racier than the films.
Another neighborhood theater was the Avalon, which was a huge movie palace and as magnificent as the Paradise. When something played at the Avalon, it was well worth walking the slightly extra distance to see it there. The Avalon mostly played big event movies after they completed their downtown roadshow runs, like “Lawrence of Arabia” and “West Side Story.”
One day, I heard that the Avalon was one of a dozen or so theaters in the Chicago area that was going to have a special screening of “Having A Wild Weekend,” and that the Dave Clark Five were going to appear in person at the theater. Apparently, the promoters had timed things so that the group could appear at each of the theaters where the film would be playing that day. The big show at the Avalon was a Saturday morning matinee. I got in line early, and was shaking with excitement when I realized that I would indeed get in. There were more than 2,500 seats and the place was packed. A man came out on stage and announced that the group would be making its appearance before the film, and would be there momentarily. The crowd started to scream. Moments later, the Dave Clark Five marched out on stage, and the place went wild. There was a scuffle near the stage and the next thing we knew, the five of them had left the stage. The lights went off and the movie started. The next morning, it was in the newspaper that one of the group had suffered a broken wrist in the “near-riot” that ensued at the Avalon.
After awhile, I began to get impatient waiting for new movies to make it to the neighborhood theaters. I was also old enough to go to the Loop by myself, either by taking the Illinois Central train or, in good weather, riding my bicycle along Lake Michigan.
The theaters in the Loop started running shows at 9am, sometimes with no one in the audience. Many years later, when I was already in the film business, I was told that the Chicago projectionists union was one of the strongest in the country, and that the projectionists had to be paid for the full day whether there were shows or not. So most of the theaters simply opted to go ahead with the shows. This was great for me, since I could get there early and see films that would have been difficult to get into later in the day.
There were many gorgeous theaters in the Loop, but I had two favorites, The United Artists and the Woods. They were both grand movie palaces and had long histories that were completely lost on me at the time. All I cared about was that they were showing the latest, greatest movies. And they knew how to market them. The theaters tried to outdo each other in terms of the special displays they created for the films that were playing. The entire fronts of the theaters were covered by photos and posters for the films. The marquees screamed out whatever sensational lines they could think of to entice people into the theaters.
Of the many films that I saw at the Woods, one of my fondest memories was seeing “A Hard Days Night” the week it opened. The place was packed with screaming kids. I was way up in the balcony. When the Beatles began singing a song, the entire audience clapped along.
My recollection is that a lot of the films that played at the Woods were horror films or thrillers. I recall seeing a few William Castle films, some of the Edgar Allen Poe adaptations by Roger Corman and, in 1967, “Wait Until Dark,” for which they advertised that all the lights in the theater would be turned off for the last few minutes of the film. I can never remember being so scared in a film.
At the United Artists, I recall stumbling into an early morning showing of ”A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum,” not knowing anything about the film other than the strange title. I laughed so hard that I went back several more times to see it.
Right down the block from those theaters were the Cinestage and the Michael Todd. These were the more prestigious theaters, where you could see the latest blockbuster roadshow releases–in many cases a completely different (longer) version of the film than would be released in the neighborhoods. At these theaters I saw “2001: A Space Odyssey” (several times) and ”The Sound of Music” (several times), among many more “event” films.
In 1967, we moved again, this time to Highland Park, in Chicago’s north suburbs. My theater of choice was the Edens Theater, which was visible from the Edens Expressway. Unlike all the previous theaters, the Edens was not an old theater. It was a modernist masterpiece and a state-of-the-art facility that frequently had exclusive runs of films for the entire North Shore. Since it was a single-screen theater, hit films would settle in and play for long periods of time. One day I went to see “Bonnie and Clyde” at the Edens; I believe that was the moment I decided I wanted to make movies some day. I’m sure the massive screen and the incredible sound at the Edens added to the experience. I went back and saw “Bonnie and Clyde” at least five times, and since I didn’t have my drivers license yet, each time I saw the film one of my parents had to drive me. One day, as I was settling into my seat in the nearly empty theater, my Dad suddenly sat down next to me. I must have looked shocked as he said to me,” You keep coming to see this film so much, I decided to see what it is you like so much.” Throughout the film, he kept looking at me, wondering what kind of pervert he was bringing up.
A year or so later, my uncle was visiting from out of town, and took me to the Esquire on the north side of Chicago to see a film that he had read was all the rage. The Esquire was a beautiful deco palace, and one of the nicest places to see a film in Chicago. I would go there many times over the years, the last time being for the premiere of “Hoop Dreams” decades later. The film was “Easy Rider,” and it was on a double bill with a foreign language film that I can’t remember. They also showed a short called “De Duva (The Dove),” a great parody of early Bergman (It’s available on YouTube). My education continued.
A couple of years later, we moved again, this time to Paramus, NJ. The most spectacular local theater was the Stanley Warner Route 4. It started as a single-screen 2,000 seat theater, added a second screen in the the mid-70′s and eventually was carved up into little pieces. I practically lived at the theater all through high school. One memorable experience was trying to get in to see “Woodstock” and being turned away because I was too young. It looked to me like they were turning away the entire interested audience.
I also spent a lot of time at the Bergen Mall Cinema, which was the local art house. Here I saw such films as “Women in Love,” Fellini’s “Satyricon,” “Zabriskie Point,” and numerous films that were distributed by Cinema 5, a company that I would end up working for a number of years later. It was eye opening, and contributed to my radicalization in my teenage years. This theater may have been a shoebox in the middle of a suburban mall, but it was responsible for expanding the horizons of the youth of Bergen County. [Interestingly, I can't find any decent pictures of either of these two theaters.]
Then it was off to Chicago again, where I went to college. In Evanston, where the Northwestern campus was located, there were two downtown theaters, the Varsity and theValencia. They were both smaller movie palaces, but by the early ’70s they were in bad shape, mostly showing grindhouse films. That didn’t mean that I didn’t check them out. Given the recreational bent of the times, hanging at those two theaters could be a lot of fun.
However, the real action was in Chicago, and there were theaters showing films for every taste. The Carnegiewas the fancy art house, playing the latest foreign language films that were being written about in the New York Times. It was architecturally undistinguished and shared the same building with Mr. Kelly’s night club and a large parking structure. But the presentation was first class.
Repertory cinema was all over town, most notably at theBiograph and at thePlayboy at Clark and Division, which my college roommate referred to as the “center of the world.” The Biograph, of course, is world famous for being the place where Dillinger was killed after seeing a movie. The seat where Dillinger sat that night was painted gold so that patrons could find it easily. There was something special about seeing a film from the ’20s or ’30s in a setting that was so authentic to that time.
The Playboy was nowhere near as atmospheric, but it’s programming was something else. By day, the theater was an art house, playing the second tier art films that couldn’t get bookings at the Carnegie. But by night the Playboy became Chicago’s best repertory house. They called it the “Playboy All-Night Show,” and it was a different double feature every night, starting at midnight. One night it would be two Marx Brothers films, the next night two Ken Russell films, the next night, two by Antonioni. It was like someone was programming my Netflix queue, only in a movie theater. You can imagine my many bleary-eyed mornings, trying to stay awake through classes after having sat through two amazing films that ended at 4:00 am or later. (Yes, that’s Roger Ebert posing in front of the Playboy.)
After college, I ended up moving to New York City. I got a job with Cinema 5, which owned and operated most of the classiest theaters in Manhattan. It was a dream come true. Every Friday, the office manager would come by everyone’s desk and hand them 4 passes to any of the theaters, with an expiration date of the following week–use it or lose it. No chance of that for me. If anything, 4 passes were hardly enough, and I took to asking around for passes that others weren’t using.
The theaters were well-kept to the point of obsessiveness. I would be asked to run over to a theater to make sure the bathrooms were clean. The presentation was classy and always top-notch.
My absolute favorite of the theaters was the Plaza, which was the most atmospheric. I experienced some of the earliest examples of the coming American Independent movement at the Plaza, including “Hester Street,” “Pumping Iron,” “Harlan County USA” and others. Since the Plaza was right around the corner from the Cinema 5 office, we had our acquisition screenings there, so I spent many a morning drinking my coffee and eating my bagel in the first row of the loge section of the theater, screening some movie that we might be interested in acquiring. After awhile, the theater manager permitted me to park my bicycle in the theater when I rode it to work.
I always loved Cinema 1 and 2 on Third Avenue. It was before they had carved it into a third theater, and before it was allowed to get run down. It was a glittering example of a thoroughly modern movie theater, eschewing curtains for a black fabric strip that would come down from the ceiling before each show to mask the proper screen ratio. I used up a lot of those Cinema 5 passes at these theaters. When I started working there, Robert Altman’s “Nashville” was just beginning a record-setting run at Cinema 2. I had already seen the film once at the Esquire before leaving Chicago, but now I had the chance to see it over and over again, and I did. I probably saw the film 20 times in my first six months working at the company.
Another favorite was the Beekman. It was an art deco jewel, and probably the most beautiful movie theater that I’d ever seen that was built to be a movie theater. Woody Allen also loved the Beekman, and typically insisted that his films open there. I recall seeing “Love and Death” many times at the Beekman.
But I didn’t spend all of my time at the Cinema 5 theaters. I still had a taste for older films and frequented Dan Talbot’s New Yorker, and the Thalia, both of which were in the neighborhood where I lived. This was the golden age of double features, and the New York rep houses were trying to outdo each other in the cleverness of their programming.
In the years since, as my career led me to do business with many of the theaters I grew up with, I never lost my fondness for them. But one-by-one, just about all the theaters I have mentioned disappeared. The Thalia still exists, but the original parabolic floor has been straightened out and there is no longer any fixed seating. Cinema 1 & 2 have spawned a 3rd screen that has wrecked the perfect symmetry of the other two. The Biograph has been renovated and is being used by a theater company. The Esquire was cut up into smaller theaters many years ago, and now sits empty. The Avalon also sits abandoned. The Paradise is still there and has recently been partially restored, but it’s mainly used for events. All the rest are gone.
If you enjoy this subject, you owe it to yourself to check out the Cinema Treasures web site. I found many of the photos used in this piece on that site under a Creative Commons license. Full photo credits below:
Photo Credits:
Park Plaza: NYCago.com
Loews Paradise: Brad Smith, Cinema Treasures
Hamilton: Nick Coston, Cinema Treasures
Jeffery: Senorsock, Cinema Treasure
Avalon: Ira Deutchman
Woods: John P. Keating Jr, Cinema Treasures
United Artists: John P. Keating Jr, Cinema Treasures
Michael Todd: John P Keating Jr, Cinema Treasures
Edens: Didi, Dim Beauty of Chicago
Esquire: Ira Deutchman
Varsity: Ira Deutchman
Carnegie: David Zornig, Cinema Treasures
Biograph: Norman Plant, Cinema Treasures
Playboy: Tim O’Neill, Cinema Treasures
Plaza: William, Cinema Treasures
Cinema 1&2: Dave-Bronx, Cinema Treasures
Beekman: Patrick Crowley, Cinema Treasures
New Yorker: MovieswithDad, Cinema Treasures This entry was posted in Film and tagged Bronx, Chicago, Highland Park, Movie Theaters, New York City, Paramus. Bookmark the permalink. ← Master Class: Independent Film Financing Let River Rest in Peace → 5 Responses to Movie Theaters I’ve Known and Loved Sydney Levine says: October 3, 2011 at 8:57 pm
I love this! I’ll try to do it…just the photos. you write better than I
Jordi Wijnalda says: October 3, 2011 at 10:48 pm
Wow, Ira – this really hit home for me. No, I have not experienced any of this first-hand myself, but it once again reaffirmed for me that a different decade might have been better for me… In some ways, at least. Thanks a lot for sharing this!
Juliet Goodfriend says: October 5, 2011 at 10:10 am
Ira, your memory is as awesome as your love of, and history in, films and theaters. Thanks, for the memories..da dah da dah da daah, etc (I can’t even remember the lyrics!).
Juliet
DanZee says: October 5, 2011 at 4:12 pm
Unfortunately theaters bear the scars of the ups and downs of the movie industry. During the Golden Age of Hollywood, you had huge theaters showing films continuously to large masses of coming-and-going people. The television age shifted that to films you couldn’t (yet) see on TV, such as long-running “event” pictures or a constantly changing schedule of foreign and repertory films. During the 1980s, the film studios revved up production again using independent producers (and their money) that shifted theaters to a multiplex design of more screens but smaller “box” theaters. The older theaters were abandoned or cut up, and even today theater owners skimp on building maintenance. Just as the old movie palaces have met the wrecking ball, throughout the 2000′s multiplexes have been plowed over for newer restaurant-themed superplexes. And at some point, even they will be replaced with something different. It’s all a cycle.
Carl Spence says: October 11, 2011 at 3:30 am
The timing of this article is fortuitous as we are re-opening a 85 year old movie palace – the uptown cinemas from October 20th in Seattle. It has the original single screen with the addition of two smaller stadium auditoriums that were added next door in the mid-80s. We are currently restoring the 50s marquee and getting the place ready to open in a short amount of time. Very exciting times in Seattle for movie going!
- 3/26/2012
- by Sydney Levine
- Sydney's Buzz
By most accounts, Harry Cohn was a royal son of a bitch.
For the uninformed, Harry Cohn was co-founder of Columbia Pictures, and the autocratic ruler of the studio from its founding in 1919 until his death in 1958. He was vulgar, crass, tyrannical, a screaming, foul-mouthed verbal bully i.e. a royal son of a bitch.
He was also a cheap son of a bitch.
Originally considered a “Poverty Row” studio, Cohn’s Columbia – at least at first – refused to build a roster of salaried stars as the other studios did. Cohn didn’t want the overhead or the headaches he saw saddling other studio chiefs with their contract talent. Cheaper and easier was to pay those studios a flat fee for the one-time use of their marquee value stars to give Columbia’s B-budgeted flicks an A-list shine. Columbia was considered such a nickel-and-dime outfit at the time that other...
For the uninformed, Harry Cohn was co-founder of Columbia Pictures, and the autocratic ruler of the studio from its founding in 1919 until his death in 1958. He was vulgar, crass, tyrannical, a screaming, foul-mouthed verbal bully i.e. a royal son of a bitch.
He was also a cheap son of a bitch.
Originally considered a “Poverty Row” studio, Cohn’s Columbia – at least at first – refused to build a roster of salaried stars as the other studios did. Cohn didn’t want the overhead or the headaches he saw saddling other studio chiefs with their contract talent. Cheaper and easier was to pay those studios a flat fee for the one-time use of their marquee value stars to give Columbia’s B-budgeted flicks an A-list shine. Columbia was considered such a nickel-and-dime outfit at the time that other...
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- SoundOnSight
Don’t worry folks. This isn’t a Twilight related news article. We don’t do that here on The Criterion Cast. Instead it’s the exciting news that specialty DVD label Twilight Time has partnered with 20th Century Fox to release limited edition versions of many of their films. Similar to what the Warner Archive does, Twilight Time will be taking films from Fox’s archives and pressing a run of 3000 DVDs from a restored transfer. All releases are to include an 8 page booklet with an essay, stills and poster art. Some releases will even have an isolated score, all for $19.99.
Right now you can order the wonderfully under-seen John Huston spy thriller The Kremlin Letter (1970) at Screen Archives. Right now for pre-order is the Richard Fliescher film Violent Saturday (1955) and soon enough will have Fate Is the Hunter (1964), Woman Obsessed (1959), and The Egyptian (1954). Films that most people haven...
Right now you can order the wonderfully under-seen John Huston spy thriller The Kremlin Letter (1970) at Screen Archives. Right now for pre-order is the Richard Fliescher film Violent Saturday (1955) and soon enough will have Fate Is the Hunter (1964), Woman Obsessed (1959), and The Egyptian (1954). Films that most people haven...
- 4/11/2011
- by James McCormick
- CriterionCast
Fate is the Hunter, the tense 1964 drama about the investigation into a mysterious and disastrous crash of an airliner, will be shown on Turner Classic Movies on Sunday, January 2 at 10:00 Pm (Est). The movie, directed by Ralph Nelson, boasts a superb cast: Glenn Ford, Rod Taylor, Nancy Kwan, Jane Russell, Suzanne Pleshette, Nehemiah Persoff and Wally Cox. The movie has never been released on DVD.
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