What Used to Be....

When I was in New York last week, I thoroughly depressed my good friend Glenn. I was telling him (perhaps with too much glee) about the American Film Institute's planned 40th Anniversary celebration on October 3 at the Arclight Cinemas in Los Angeles. For one night only, they are turning over 11 of the screens to classic movies that will be hosted by one of the principals of the film. I was lamenting that, since all the movies start at 7PM, you literally have to pick which one to attend. I ticked off the roster as follows:

Julie Andrews will present THE SOUND OF MUSIC.

Warren Beatty will present BONNIE AND CLYDE.

Billy Crystal and Rob Reiner will present WHEN HARRY MET SALLY...

Kirk Douglas will present SPARTACUS.

Clint Eastwood will present UNFORGIVEN.

Morgan Freeman will present THE SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION.

Tippi Hedren will present THE BIRDS.

Angela Lansbury will present BEAUTY AND THE BEAST.

George Lucas will present STAR WARS: EPISODE IV - A NEW HOPE.

Jack Nicholson will present ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO'S NEST.

Sylvester Stallone will present ROCKY.

I actually had the audacity to complain to my friend that my first choice (BONNIE AND CLYDE) was sold out, and that I had to settle for Julie Andrews.

That was more than he could bear.

"Well, at least, you get to go to stuff like that in Los Angeles."

Ain't that the sad and grim truth?

On my frequent trips, I look around New York and remember the cinematic glory it once embraced. When I watch those "What's My Line?" reruns from the 60s, you always hear Bennett Cerf or Arlene Francis referencing those big new movies that were playing at the fabulous movie houses downtown. If you look around those Manhattan streets, you see none of those palaces anymore. The only semi-relic left is not even a product of the old days. The Ziegfield Theater is a terrific place, but it was built in the 70s. Beyond that, there is nothing. And New York should be ashamed for not doing more to protect the moviegoing experience.

I can tick off the names of the theaters that dotted the landscape 40 years ago. When it was a treat to go "downtown" to see a new movie that you might have to wait for months to come to your neighborhood house in Westchester or Long Island.

The Roxy.

The Beekman.

Radio City Music Hall (it really died, folks, that crummy Christmas show notwithstanding).

Any of the Trans Lux theaters.

The Rivoli.

It was all an event you craved. You scanned the newspapers because the really good story always opened in Manhattan before any place else. Usually, it was a little more expensive. If you wanted to see it fast, it cost a little more in those "reserved seat engagements." It might take six months before a movie would show up in Mount Vernon at the ubiquitous "popular prices." Not that the outskirt theaters had anything to be ashamed about. I have written previously of the magnificent grandeur of my hometown's RKO Proctor's and Loew's (really Lo-wees). Temples that promised journeys to lands populated by MGM, Paramount, and Universal. Those places are demolished as well. I frequently call up a fantastic website called "cinematreasures.org." It brings all of that back to life for me.

I regret only getting the tail end of the NY moviegoing sensation. By the time I was cognizant of it all and was absorbing movies other than those produced by either Walt Disney or Jerry Lewis, the villainous wrecking ball was already snaking its ominous way through the balconies of long ago. When I was starting to look at R or PG-rated films, the architecture carving was all in full swing. But, even in the 70s, there were some feeble attempts in Westchester to restore the movie theater experience. There was a terrific local house that could have easily supplanted the rubbled Proctor's and Loews. Granted it was one of those snarky "twins" that started to crop up in strip malls around that time, but the Central Plaza Cinemas in Yonkers certainly was a valiant attempt. Back when it opened, the lobby was cloaked in a sumptuous red curtain. There was a cascading waterfall which I remember finding rather ironic during an intermission of "The Towering Inferno." The actual auditoriums were deep and inviting with a balcony upstairs that separates those pesky smokers. It was modern and old at the same time.

It didn't last. They sliced it up into four theaters sometime in the 80s. The upstairs screening rooms have sightlines that prompt stiff necks and contorted vertebrae. The waterfall is gone. The red curtains have disappeared. The only reminder of what this was is in the General Cinema sign that still adorns the theater's roof. Clearview has taken it over, as this Cablevision conglomerate has doen with most of the theaters in the NY metropolitan area. It's no longer an experience to crave. It's essentially nothing more than 10 dollars leaving your pocket and entering theirs.

Los Angeles has done a whole more to perserve the moviegoing sensation than New York. There are single screen palaces here and, frequently, they show the classics as they once were projected in days of old. This is not to say they have been 100% devoted to the process. There has certainly been demolition here as well. One such theater which pops up in lots of old Hollywood photos is the Fox Carthay Circle. I tracked the address and, where this grand dame once stood tall, you can now find either a synagogue or a Shakey's Pizza.

But, still, this is about New York. And a distinct failure to maintain a splendor that was so uniquely a part of that gotham. Maybe it's too much to ask. Perhaps we shouldn't have a movie palace to show the likes of the garbage produced by Hollywood in 2007. Why do you need a 2,000 seat theater to show a movie that is geared to 17 year-old boys who are anxiously awaiting the next fart joke?

You need it now more than ever.

Dinner last night: Had a big lunch, so just some fruit salad.