Although I was a citizen of Boulder (or at least the
Boulder/Lafayette/Louisville triangle) and avid IFS fan since the late 90s, I
recently moved to Portland, Oregon. One of the things that attracted me was the
idea of living in a little neighborhood, with its own market, restaurant,
bakery, coffee shop, bar, and so on. All your basic needs within leisurely
walking distance.
Portland embraces this concept with a plethora of
self-contained fiefdoms, all with their own character. I was surprised to find
that many of these neighborhoods also have their own theaters. Some tend
towards the arthouse, and some aim more for the mass market, but the
neighborhoods support them with their dollars. They stand against the rising
tide of megaplex domination and say “we like our little theater just fine,
thank you.”
The King of the Hill (in my heart) is the stately Hollywood
Theatre, located in the Northeast Hollywood district. Built in the silent era,
it was modified to be the first Cinerama screen in the Pacific Northwest. Today
it’s operated as a non-profit venture that rolls out a steady stream of—well,
just about everything that’s good. Old, new, international, locally-made, the
Hollywood shows ‘em all. In fact, they update their calendar so often in the
short term that I can’t keep up—I’m always saying “When did they add this? But
this conflicts with that other show I
want to see!” It’s a nice problem to have.
Picture this if you will: you buy your ticket, and the
concession stand offers the standard array of movie fare—at normal,
non-cutthroat prices. You choose one of the locally-crafted beers on tap (also
at a reasonable price), and saunter down to your full-size, ultra-plush seat (the
product of a local fund drive).
Since moving to Portland, I have thrown more dollars at this
theater than any other, and gladly. I love their bimonthly
kung-fu/grindhouse/horror films in all their grainy, often subtitled-ness. There’s
a light rail stop a few blocks away if it’s pouring and I wuss out from biking
it.
Squeezed between a restaurant and a nail salon in the
Northwest Alphabet District, Cinema 21 is a Ford Escort to the Hollywood’s
Cadillac. But it’s my neighborhood
theater, and I feel good knowing that I can walk five blocks to see a damned
fine 35mm movie in an independently-owned venue. Although Cinema 21 usually
sticks to the highbrow, this week it is showing the early 70s Australian
grindhouse Wake in Fright—probably
the very same print IFS will be showing later this semester.
Although I don’t consider it my “local” theater, the Mission
Theater is another big-screen option for me within walking distance. It’s an
outpost of the McMenamins empire, a chain of 65 brewpubs, restaurants,
theaters, and hotels centered in Portland, but extending to other towns in
Oregon and Washington. If you, as a Boulderite, walked into a McMenamins brewpub,
it would feel instantly familiar. In
fact, you might guess that it’s another outpost of the Mountain/Southern Sun,
and you would not be far wrong. I’ve heard that the Mountain Sun was started by
an ex-employee of McMenamins, and you can see a family resemblance—the
full-color chalkboard art, the vaguely 60s-meets-20s hippie/speakeasy vibe.
The Mission Theater, which started life as a Swedish
Evangelical Mission and Longshoreman’s Union, is both a movie and live music
venue. The only movie I’ve seen there was Casablanca,
which was digitally projected in the wrong aspect ratio (in fact, it was this
experience that made me realize that the digital revolution was purely a business
decision, and that moviegoers may ultimately pay more for a degraded
moviewatching experience).
While it might not be my first choice as a movie venue, it’s
a tasteful, inviting space. Now that the Portland rains have returned, it’s
comforting knowing that I can grab an umbrella and within ten minutes be
sipping a locally-crafted beer in a warm, cozy theater.
On the other end of the digital projection spectrum is
Living Room Theaters, which is also a chain outpost in the Pearl District (although
the only other location is apparently Boca Raton). The individual theaters are
small, but filled with comfortable, oversized chairs and couches. The business
model is the ability to order and consume food and/or libations in the theater.
The digital projection systems are sharp and this is a fine way to watch a
movie that was shot digitally—the latest Toy
Story, for example. A word to the wise: on Mondays and Tuesdays movies are
$5 (a great deal for this town!).
Shockingly, Living Room Theaters does not cater to the
lowest common denominator. Their selections are unashamedly arthouse, and many
are extremely obscure foreign releases. I’ve seen films advertised here that
I’ve not seen in any other American venue. Perhaps their all-digital model
(read: lower cost to acquire films after the massively expensive digital
projectors are paid for) allows them to take more risks than a strictly 35mm
venue.
While their beer selection is not vast, it’s a solid range
of local product. And after your film is done, you can saunter over one block
to the world-famous Powell’s City of Books.
The 5th Avenue Cinema is operated by Portland
State University, and is perhaps Portland’s analog to the IFS. The theater is
small (there are actually two theaters in the building, although I have only
seen films in one of them), and the chairs are more academic than high-end
megaplex, but the moviewatching experience is just fine. Three dollars get you
a prime 35mm film and free popcorn, and is clearly the best 35mm movie deal in
Portland. While they only show one film a week on Fridays, Saturdays, and
Sundays, their selections are interesting and often vintage. I could probably
just throw away the schedule, walk into the theater at 7pm every Friday, slap
down my three dollars, and walk away happy.
Portlanders drive a hard bargain: they don’t want to pay a lot for their entertainment, but if you give them a high-quality product, they’ll become fanatic consumers and advocates. It’s not charity, just good business. Small Portland theaters tend to cater to the local desires—beer on tap, arthouse/grindhouse fare, kids’ movies for theaters in the more family-friendly neighborhoods. This seems to work here—why isn’t it working elsewhere in America?
