We all love our neighborhood movie theaters. The one that is walking distance from your house that you go to when you are bored on a Sunday afternoon. You savor the walk home and look into all the shop windows, thinking about funny/sad/eerie scenes from the movie. It's such a lovely way to spend a rainy Sunday from 1:00 to 3:00 PM.
Last week I walked from my neighborhood theater, the Vogue, nestled between antique shops and clothing stores. The Vogue was once a classic art deco movie house that had the misfortune of being redone in the 1970's. I'm sure in its heyday, the Vogue marquee lit up the Presidio district-you can still see the red letters from Fillmore street on a clear night.
| The outside of the building must bear the brunt of some poor 70's architect fellow that decided to decorate the front with a wavy tile mosaic in the saddest color palette centering on a nasty burnt sienna. And this brown has the gall to continue into the theater. But if you look beyond the grating seventies kitsch, there are a few hints to the glamour that once ruled this little gem of a movie theater. |
You wanna talk neighbourhood movie theaters, let's tawk The Castro. In fact, why don't you make an evening out of it? How 'bout dinner first, then a movie and then, just to top off the evening, go check out what's playing at Bottom of the Hill. "Ohhh, Honey! posthoc does it again..." |
As you enter the screening room, notice the beautiful cut glass port-holes with the sublimely graceful woman stretched across the circle. But the inside is a bit of a let-down. Just seats, the screen, and a chipping paint job on the walls and ceilings in that miserable brown. It is enough to break your heart.
But you sit back and enjoy the movie. And when you leave don't head straight home, but spend time in the Presidio district-an area that isn't all that well known, but perfect for a little walk.
Poor old Vogue theater-like an old woman who has lost her looks but boasts about past lovers-it just calls attention to itself from it's marquee, ignoring it's own sad state. So the next time you visit the Vogue, acknowledge it's gentle majesty which is all but hidden. And, of course, enjoy the show.
Leslie Dotson
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