Commentary
A lament for single screen theaters

By John Hartl
Special to The Seattle Times

	BARRY WONG / THE SEATTLE TIMES Music Hall Theater, at the corner of Olive Way and Seventh Avenue, in June 1986. Over the years, the theater was known by several different names including the Emerald Palace. It was demolished in 1992.
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For weeks after the opening of "The Return of the King," it was next to impossible to see the finale of "The Lord of the Rings" trilogy at the Cinerama. Screening after screening was sold out. The fans, who sometimes lined up for hours before show time, quickly established the theater as the place to see the movie.

Rescued from demolition in the late 1990s by Paul Allen, the Cinerama at Fourth Avenue and Lenora Street has become one of the nation's single-screen success stories at a time when many grand old movie theaters are closing and chains are going bankrupt. In March, when the 41-year-old theater holds another of its wide-screen festivals, moviegoers will be arriving from outside the state just to see "How the West Was Won" and other epics projected in their original form.

For some time now, the movie-biz mantra has been "no single screens." Supposedly these dinosaurs just can't survive in the multiplex era, because audiences are given no choices and it doesn't make economic sense to hire one projectionist to show one film. Or three or four projectionists, in the case of "How the West Was Won," which requires synchronization of three strips of film and a separate soundtrack.

	VIC CONDIOTTY / THE SEATTLE TIMES, 1980 Crowds lined up to pay $5 at United Artists Cinema 150 Theater, while across the street the King Cinema had a $1.50 matinee, in June 1980. The theater was demolished in 2002.

The mantra became ugly fact when United Artists Cinemas 150, the curved-screen 70mm theater where "Star Wars" made its local debut, was reduced to rubble in late 2002. Early last month, the Lewis & Clark, which was built as a huge single-screen house in the mid-1950s, closed its doors.

And yet, the faithful flock to the Cinerama to see those "event" pictures. On some occasions, the Paramount and the 5th Avenue, former single-screen houses that now specialize in live events, play host to similarly large audiences for film festivals or special screenings. Both were rescued by local millionaires who recognized how special they are.

As the "Rings" fans know, memories are still made of the conjunction of a favorite film and a favorite theater. The Cinerama owes its survival to Paul Allen's memories of seeing "How the West Was Won" there in 1963. Here are half a dozen more (most of them long-gone) that will always be special to me:

Southcenter: Built in 1969 on Southcenter Parkway and demolished a couple of years ago, it was known as the "Cinerama South" for its huge curved screen, though it was never really treated as the unique showcase it was. Wide-screen science-fiction epics such as "The Abyss" looked particularly impressive there, though by the time "Toy Story" was drawing record crowds, the carpet was a rag and the theater was falling apart. Like so many local favorites, it was purchased by a national chain that ran it into the ground.

Music Hall: Demolished in 1992, the theater at the corner of Olive Way and Seventh Avenue was known by several names including the Fox, the 7th Avenue and the Emerald Palace. Opened in 1929, it was used for both stage and film events. The spectacular Spanish baroque architecture made it the perfect showcase for the local live-theater debut of "Man of La Mancha," when Keith Andes played Cervantes/Don Quixote in a touring show in 1967. Bookings could be haphazard and eventually it became a concert-venue fiasco, but this is where many of us first saw "The Godfather" and "Bonnie and Clyde."

Blue Mouse: It was never as impressive as the Cinerama, but this is where many of the blockbusters of the 1950s and '60s were shown at roadshow prices. If you didn't live in Seattle and you wanted to see "Ben-Hur" when it opened in early 1960, you made a pilgrimage because there was no other theater in the state showing it. "Around the World in 80 Days" and "Mary Poppins" and "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" had lengthy exclusive runs there, too, but when the theater's managers failed to make those kinds of bookings in the 1970s, audiences disappeared and it was destroyed. Now it's the site of the Elephant and Castle restaurant in the 1400 block of Fifth Avenue.

United Artists Cinema 150: It opened in 1969, along with its humbler sister house, the UA 70, and quickly became the place to see the big crowd pleasers. It always seemed to be packed on Sunday afternoons, when family audiences lined up at Sixth Avenue and Blanchard Street for "The Three Musketeers" or "What's Up, Doc?" or the "Star Wars" movies. Something about the acoustics made it feel remarkably intimate, almost encouraging audience response. When "2001: A Space Odyssey" was reissued in 70mm in the summer of 1974, President Nixon was preparing to resign, and the connection between the president and the movie's disintegrating computer, HAL, was too much for one audience member. "I'm not a crook!" he shouted as HAL literally lost his mind.

Lewis & Clark: When it opened in 1956 on Pacific Highway South, it was the biggest and best second-run suburban theater in the state. Even when it was multiplexed, the big house and its murals of Lewis and Clark maintained much of their original appeal. It always seemed a surefire moneymaker, with a great location near Sea-Tac airport, a loyal fan base and some wonderful restaurants nearby. Closing this one seems to make no sense, although when the bowling alley next door shut its doors a couple of years ago, the writing may have been on the wall. Once again, a fine local theater was bought and managed by a national chain that failed to maintain the quality.

The Colonial: Seattle's most popular bargain-priced "grind house" for years, it was open day and night, and some people used it as their hotel. Even if you weren't that desperate, there were all-day marathons of second-run and third-run movies, some of which had only played drive-ins before. My favorite day at the Colonial: watching "North by Northwest" and "Exodus" back-to-back as part of what could only have been an unconscious Eva Marie Saint tribute. There's been nothing like it since it closed its doors in the early 1970s, first to make room for a bank, then the Borders store across from Westlake Park.

John Hartl have been reviewing movies for the Seattle Times since 1966. His e-mail address is johnhartl@yahoo.com.

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