The Kithi Cinema - Mogok, Mandalay Region, Myanmar

There's a bit of magic being performed upon Myanmar's movie theaters these days. A celestial twist of collective fate that has been working its way from town to charm-stuffed town across the country. The magic is that for the past couple of years a good number of theaters have been ushered out of purgatory, and the eventual rubble heap, through the shimmering gates of salvation. That's right, old movie theaters throughout Myanmar are being renovated at a fairly high rate. The lone down side is that for this new generation of theater renovators, the shimmering part is literal. Crimes against architecture are being perpetrated one cheap, shiny piece of vinyl at a time.

Take, for instance, the Kithi Cinema; a classic Tropical Art Deco theater right in the heart of Mogok. The Kithi was contracted at the height of Myanmar's movie theater construction boom, which followed independence from Great Britain in 1947. In the years to follow, Tropical Art Deco came into vogue among the country's builders and architects. As the style proliferated, many of its finest examples found expression in the form of movie theaters, matching these iconic cultural venues with the most lavish architectural trend of the era.

In a shining sign of these current times, however, some of Myanmar's nascent theater renovators seem to have little regard for yesterday's design sensibilities. Case in point, the Tropical Art Deco facade of the Kithi has been completely covered up with uninspired, vinyl paneling. It's a bittersweet outcome for an otherwise positive development. Getting a reactivated original movie hall - with all it's crowd-drawing potential and landmark status right in the center of a historic town - is a good thing. Getting mutilated architecture in the process is bad. The most unfortunate part is that it's completely unnecessary.

The original Tropical Art Deco crest of the facade of the Kithi Cinema peaks out from behind the hideous vinyl paneling 

Beast kills beauty.

From this angle, a corner of an adjacent building is visible in the foreground. Though in dire need of some sprucing up, this is the type of simple, but elegant architecture that much of Mogok - and Myanmar cities in general - is comprised of. The the same type of architecture that has been needlessly obscured in the Kithi Cinema.

When modernizing old movie theaters it's not uncommon for the theater's functional components to be completely replaced. Take seating, for example. Before renovations, the Kithi was making use of its original teakwood seats. While beautiful in their own right, hard wood seats do not sit well (no pun intended) with 21st century audiences. The newly installed cushioned seats, on the other hand, mark a technological upgrade that will make watching movies more comfortable. As will the new and improved sound system and digital projection. With such improvements, a bit of provenance is sacrificed for an enhanced user experience.  But unlike the functional aspects of movie theaters - seats, the screen, audio and projection - the facade is strictly ornamental and should be restored to its original look.

The Kithi's grand auditorium has been completely gutted and modernized. A section of it has been cut away to make room for a second, mini-auditorium, so that the theater can screen two films at the same time. Overhauling a square box auditorium to improve the movie-watching experience is acceptable so long as no rare architectural elements are removed. Obliterating an original facade is unacceptable.

A smaller, secondary auditorium has been cut from the original.

Galaxy Cinemas, the company behind the revival of the Kithi, is attempting to brand itself with a distinct visual identity. All of their theaters feature the same boxy facade of red and silver, whether built from the ground up or from existing movie theaters that they renovate. Ostensibly, their design concept is riding the wave of the current building boom that is making its mark on many parts of the country. As such, the upstart company is attempting to make themselves appear sleek and new.

As important as brand identity is, it's a poor excuse for covering up good architecture. Galaxy could have achieved the same visual branding simply by tidying up the original tropical Art Deco facade. The company logo, moreover, placed in a suitable spot on the old facade, would have served as a fine branding marker, without dishonoring the architecture and the theater's long history. This is a conceptual error that I see being corrected, at great expense, years later all over the west.

Oddly enough, the lobby area, including a pair of beautifully crafted teak stairs, wooden poster cases and wood paneled ticket booths, have been painstaking restored to their original mid-century look. If the same attention had been paid to the facade, this would count as a stellar renovation job.

Restored poster display case and stairs in the lobby if the Kithi Cinema.

Had I arrived in Mogok just a month or so earlier I would have been able to document the Kithi in its original Tropical Art Deco guise. Thanks to the power of the internet, I was able to track down an image of it pre-mutilation courtesy of photographer Jamie Johnstone. Click here to view the photo.

Below is a sample of other Tropical Art Deco movie theaters I've had the good fortune to document throughout Myanmar.

The Yuzana Cinema - Pyin Oo Lwin

The Myoma Cinema - Pyin Oo Lwin

The Aung Tha Pyae Cinema - Yemathin

The Aung Mingala Cinema - Dawei

The Win Cinema - Toungoo

The Aung Theit Thi Cinema - Myaungmya

The Hla Thiri Cinema - Minbu

The Kemarat Cinema - Keng Tung

The Thwin Cinema - Yangon

The Aung Thiri Cinema - Lashio, Shan State, Myanmar

Myanmar's movie theater business has been acting a bit schizophrenic of late. On the one hand, at an estimated 49 active theaters nationwide, the country has the fewest number of movie theaters since World War Two, when its theaters were often on the receiving end of aerial bombings. Nationwide, dozens of 3rd tier and even a handful of 2nd tier cities have lost their last operating theater over the course of the past 5 years. In all of Irrawaddy Region, for example, a paltry two cinemas serve a Region-wide population of over 6 million, hardly an apt ratio for a country  poised to see high levels of economic growth.

But there's an atypical corollary to the dwindling number of theaters. As a sizable portion of older theaters across Myanmar go out of business, an opposing trend towards renovation and technical upgrades is being seen in select cases (including one of the two remaining theaters in the aforementioned Irrawaddy Region). Economic confidence, sparked by the relaxing of some trade embargoes in the wake of political reforms has, it would seem, trickled down to the film industry. As the Ministry of Information privatizes its stock of old theaters, some of them have been acquired by cinema-minded entrepreneurs.

Though still by far the exception, this slowly expanding phenomenon represents a bright spot for preservationists, while offering a glimmer of hope that a human-focused, anti-sprawl form of development will find some adherents in Myanmar. Aside from Yangon and Mandalay, the numbers one and two largest cities, Myanmar's many towns and cities tend to be compact and centralized, with work place and residence often in the same location. This pre-suburban sprawl living arrangement is the reason why so many of Myanmar's old theaters have managed to survive in the first place.

To put that in context, cities across the developed world are pursuing policies that aim to curb sprawl and revive historic town cores. In that sense, Myanmar's long stagnation has left it in an advantageous position if it takes strides to limit private car ownership, enhance public transit and preserve its historic urban cores. Stand-alone movie theaters - the cultural anchors of modern urbanity - can play a major role in keeping the downtown core vibrant.

That said, Lashio in upper Shan State has the distinction of being home to two recently renovated stand-alone movie theaters. The first of the two was highlighted here a few months ago. The second and more recent upgrade is the Aung Thiri Cinema.

The commercial core of Lashio is built on the side of a hill, giving the town a naturally textured siting. Its topographical charm is further complemented by a medley of buildings from different eras, some made of wood, some brick and plaster, some concrete. Space in front of the buildings, from the sidewalks and to the edge of streets are the preserve of hawkers, peddling wares from fresh fruit to cheap electronics. Pedestrians are more or less confined to the streets themselves, reflecting what is at best an early motorized society. In other words, the strict delineation of space has yet to be hashed out.        

At the center of this city organism, hidden from plain sight behind a wall of concrete retail stalls, is the Aung Thiri Cinema. To reach the theater, one must go through a passage way between the little stalls which opens onto a plaza surrounding the theater. 

The architecture of the Aung Thiri is simple. The main structure is brick and concrete, though some interior parts are made of wood. Semi-circle arches sit atop concrete pilasters stacked vertically in the lengthwise procession of the facade. A very common orientation for Myanmar movie theaters. Logical in some ways, as it makes entering and exiting less of a bottle neck. 

There is no real lobby area to speak of, just a row of benches within a veranda. Folding wooden doors lead directly into the 400 seat auditorium.

New dimensional signage on the roof advertises the Aung Thiri Cinema and its recently installed 3D projection system

Poster examination in the theater's veranda 

Concessionaires 

Evidence that the charms of the old can live harmoniously with the efficiency and sophistication of the new: the Aung Thiri's original wrought iron ticket window is looking as good as ever, while the ticketing system has been upgraded to a computer system.  

Upgraded seating, sound proofing and new lighting have been installed, ushering the Aung Thiri into the contemporary age. 

A theater from 1960's Burma looking much like a contemporary multiplex anywhere in the world.

Revitalization of the Aung Thiri Cinema comes at the behest of Yangon-based Mingalar Cinemas, Myanmar's largest theater chain and a proactive player in the preservation of old stand-alones. In 2014, Mingalar partnered with local operators to bring new life the Aung Thiri, which had been dormant since 2003.

Seating was modernized, replacing the theater's original teak wood bench seats with the contemporary cushioned and folding kind. An air-conditioning system was installed for the first time. A brand new screen. But above all else, a digital projector replaced the antiquated if still functional carbon-arc projectors, allowing for the latest in international productions to be screened in top notch quality.

For Lashio, a town once at the far end of accessibility in a country that had long been blocked from the goings-on of the wider world, movie-going is officially in the 21st century. Accompanied, no less, by a treasured piece of the town's social history. 

The Aung Thiri at night.

Photography and research at the Aung Thiri Cinema was made possible by the man in the photo below, Mr. Sai Ni Yon, whose impeccable English and generous nature made an often challenging task a breeze. Not only was I granted full access to the Aung Thiri, but he very kindly imparted the historic details of this recently resuscitated cinema treasure. 

"Vanishing Point" marks starting point

If I had to guess which of Bangkok's remaining handful of porn theaters would play host to a proper movie premiere, I wouldn't have guessed the Laem Thong. Not in a million years. Back in 2009, during my lone trip to the Laem Thong, the experience I had there left me with a strong impression, one that ultimately convinced me that I would stop researching porn theaters.

The Laem Thong Theater, not quite a "lighthouse of culture."

It was a crisp December morning. The Laem Thong Theater stood proudly under the warm Bangkok sun; a lighthouse of culture buried deep in the labyrinthine metropolis.

In the theater's open air lobby, regaled in its fading 1970's decor, lounged a half dozen men all radiating destitution. Blood shot, insomniac eyes, shifting suspiciously, or starring blankly into unseen corners of despair betrayed their vice.

So much for the "lighthouse of culture." If this jilted group was any indicator, the Laem Thong Theater was Skid Row's living room. A place where hardcore addiction met abject poverty in the anonymous darkness of a picture hall. The goings on inside, I determined then and there, were best left undiscovered.

The lobby of the Laem Thong in 2009

My inquiries on that bright December morning came to a hard stop at the Laem Thong's front door, with no intentions of ever returning again. Anyway, it seemed all but guaranteed that the Laem Thong, like just about every other forlorn stand-alone theater in Thailand, would have a date with a backhoe in the years to come. Having the necessary documentation under my belt, there seemed little reason to ever visit again.

Blade signage - a rarity among Thai theaters - on the Laem Thong.

Fast forward six years. By some strange twist of fate - be it a slow rise in property value, or an owner who simply refuses to sell - the Laem Thong Theater is still standing. Skid Row's living room, alive and well half way into the twenty-teens.

In the six years since my initial survey, Thailand's dwindling number of stand-alone movie theaters have ever so slightly begun to creep into the collective national psyche. In some circles they have become objects of interest, if not for the nostalgia they invoke, then, perhaps, for some potential future use yet to be realized. The "what could be" if only there was a road map for how to sustainably reuse them.

Enter October 16th, 2015. Growing interest has at last led to action. A first step towards reclamation has taken place. No longer do Thailand's stand-alone movie theaters belong exclusive to the past. A theoretical future, in some limited capacity, seems to be on the horizon.

And so it was, this past October 16th. For what might very well be the first time in Thai history, a derelict porn theater temporarily reverted to its cinematic glory days. Director Jakrawal Nilthamrong, a rising star in Thailand's independent film scene, graced the screen of the Laem Thong Theater for the Thai premiere of his latest film, "Vanising Point."

For the first time in many years the name of a film graces the Laem Thong Theater's marquee.

Prepping the Laem Thong Theater for a film premiere crowd was no minor task. Years of bare minimum maintenance, combined with lax hygiene had taken a serious toll. Besides the basic issues - zero lighting on the marquee, seats with their stuffing spilling out, cracked and stained flooring, vermin - the air in the Laem Thong was so rancid that a mobile air-conditioning system had be brought in to cool and ventilate the place. Add to that the installation of a temporary sound and projection system, and the Vanishing Point premiere was indeed a major affair.

Scenes from the lobby.

Jakrawal Nilthamrong (center), director of Vanishing Point, poses for a photo with the Artistic Director of the Jim Thompson Art Center, Gridthiya Gaweewong (right). The Jim Thompson Foundation partially sponsored the event. 

Pre-movie 

Complimentary drinks at the concession stand.

Good times in a dank place

Auditorium shots while the movie was screening.

Part of the decision to use a run-down old porn theater for the premiere of Vanishing Point had as much to do with the plot of the film as it did as it did with any notion of reviving a dying movie theater. In Wise Kwai's Vanishing Point review, the film critic notes that "There's a sleazy 1970's vibe,"

"...an aesthetic that Jakrawal highlighted in choosing a cinema from that era as the venue for its debut in Bangkok. This business of life can be a dirty thing, and amid the mould and grime of Klong Toey's Laem Thong Theatre, [Jakrawal] wanted his audience to revel in it"  (Full article here)

Nonetheless, for the first time in Thai history a barely breathing theater was used for a movie premiere. That's the kind of special event that such places should be preserved for.

Preservation posturing

With news of the Lido Theater's pending demolition still ringing in peoples' ears like a barrage from a firing squad, it seems appropriate to administer the following mild sedative to help ease the pain. Very mild, actually. Truth be told, possibly a placebo.

The Sala Chalerm Thani Theater

In a recent revisit to the lone wooden cinema still standing in Bangkok - the Sala Chalerm Thani - a grand discovery was made. Tacked to bulletin boards flanking the ticket window are notices to the affect that the 92 years old structure will be undergoing complete renovations.

Photos depicting a team of architects and engineers surveying the barn-like movie theater accompanied the information. An appearance of intent on the part of the Crown Property Bureau - the financial arm of the monarchy - to preserve one of Bangkok's most historic entertainment venues.

Ticket window

"The Sala Chalerm Thani restoration project"

"The Crown Property Bureau, together with Home Renovation Center, a subsidiary of the Siam Cement Group, inspects the interior and exterior condition of the theater to determine an appropriate budget."

But after questioning locals about the notices, a less optimistic picture soon emerged.

"Those notices were put up over 2 years ago," said a nearby resident. "Nobody has even been back since they did the survey. I doubt they will ever do anything at all."

A local shopkeeper, slightly more hopeful, had this to say: "The Crown Property Bureau is investing in it. We don't know what plans they have, but it will definitely benefit the community if they can fix it up."

Replica old movie posters pinned to the wall of the Sala Chalerm Thani. In anticipation of its restoration?

While collecting data a few years back, I was told that the Sala Chalerm Thani Theater is owned by an absentee landlord who spends most of his time in the southern Thailand. A literature review later revealed that the theater was built by one of Bangkok's early theater chains, the Pathankorn Film Co., which in 1919 merged with rival Krungthep Cinematograph to form the largest theater chain in the country - the Siam Cinema Co.

Originally named the Nang Loerng Cinema after the trok neighborhood it stands in, the theater was reputedly a of low standing from the start. By the late 1920's the Siam Cinema Co. had fallen on hard times. Backed by royal financing, the newly-formed Siam Niramai Co. purchased Siam Cinema Co.'s entire stock of theaters to become the largest chain in the country. In so doing, each theater was renamed beginning with the honorific "Sala Chalerm," roughly translated "The celebrated pavilion." The Nang Loerng Theater, for instance, became the Sala Chalerm Thani; the Singapore became the Sala Chalerm Buri, and so on.

Anyhow, given that the Siam Niramai Co. was financed by the Crown, it's interesting that the CPB is now taking efforts to restore the historic old Sala Chalerm Thani. Or so their PR department would like us to believe.

Nang Lit Cinema Update - Savannakhet, Laos

Savannakhet has undergone a number of transformations since my fist visit there three years ago. Chief among them is a construction boom on the north end of town, near where Highway No. 9 crosses the city. Most of the construction is in the shape of industrial facilities, part of the rapidly growing Savannakhet-Xeno Special Economic Zone, a 35 kilometer stretch of converted rice paddy along Highway No. 9, where foreign investment is being lured via tax shelter.

Highway 9 is the Lao portion of a trans-Mekong Sub Region road expected to link the port of Danang on Vietnam's eastern seaboard with the coast of Burma. The Vietnamese, Lao and Thai portions of this road are already up and running, thanks in large to Japanese (JICA) development grants. Fractious Burma, on the other hand, has yet to be linked.

This flurry of activity on the northern end of Savannakhet, stimulated by international trucking and investment, has yet to jump start the old French-colonial core to the south, which functions at a sleep walkers' pace; partially inhabited, partially inebriated, partially fixed in a malaise of disinvestment 36 years in the making.

But from the SEA Movie Theater Project's perspective, there is one change to the town's historic core that is of epic importance: the former Nang Lit Cinema has been revived.

In mid- 2010, the Nang Lit was leased out by a private exhibitor and has been quietly back in the movie business ever since. Screenings are not daily, unfortunately, a luxury made unfeasible by a dearth of incoming films and a population so small that the market is saturated after only a handful of screenings.

During my five nights in Savannakhet, the revived Nang Lit - now called the Khounsavan Cinema - sat dormant, its battered carbon-arc projectors motionless on their mounts. The next scheduled film wasn't until early January.

An architectural medley, the Nang Lit Cinema.

The honeycomb-yellow paint job over the vented upper lobby wall tastefully accents this unique architectural feature. But the new sign is about as bad as you can get.

One of the most unique facades I've seen on a theater anywhere. Too bad the original free-standing letters are missing from above the cornice.

A lapse in operation didn't keep me from getting into the old Nang Lit. The caretaker/projectionist, a Mr. Mith, was kind enough to open the gates and show me around the theater's inner sanctums.

A ten year veteran of the building, Mith claimed that current Nang Lit, dating to around 1970, was built as an upgraded version of a much older wooden theater which preceded it. The original owner, a Laotian of Chinese descent, named the theater after his daughter, 'Lit,' operating it in stiff competition with another three theaters which once vied for the patronage of Savannakhet's entertainment seekers.

In the wake of Pathet Lao ascendancy - May, 1975 - the owner and his family crossed over into Thailand en route to refuge in America, forever relinquishing their cinema to memory and seizure by the communist regime. But to this day, the family legacy is easily one of the most striking buildings to grace Savannakhet's gridded streets.

Here's the view of upper lobby, the reverse side of the perforated wall. The vented aspect is a fairly common architectural feature among mid-20th century theaters in Southeast Asia. When many of these theaters were built, consistent electricity supply was lacking. Theaters were powered by diesel generators (still the case in Burma). Perforated walls and open air lobbies thus served as shady, cool waiting spaces without squandering valuable energy on A/C.

Up leads to the projection room, down to the lower lobby.


Tiled balcony entrance arch.

The back rows of the balcony are extremely steep, well above the top of the screen.

Two carbon-arc projectors made by the Peerless company, formerly of Omaha, Nebraska. The projectors date to the Nang Lit's redesigning back in 1970.

In the projection room, I chanced on some enticements beyond the theater's architectural craftmanship. There on the floor, beside two old carbon-arc projectors sat reels of film, some partially unraveled, others neatly stored in boxes. "What's on these?" I inquired of Mith.

"Old movies," he replied nonchalantly. "Mostly from India."

Now, it must be kept in mind that in all of my theater explorations, only once or twice have I encountered coveted reels of old film. Movie collectors and film preservationists have been known to pay handsomely for original movie prints. A few years ago, 25 minutes worth of footage cut from Fritz Lang's silent classic Metropolis, long believed destroyed, was rediscovered in Argentina. The full length version has since been restored and released in theaters around the world.

Recalling the Metropolis case, dreams of fortunes made from the sale of original movie prints crept into my brain. I could fund this project for the next three years if I got hold of a rare film, I schemed, maybe even put some money in my pocket.

"Would you be interested in selling any of these prints," I opened, imagining a copy of some long-forgotten title from Bengali director Satyajit Ray among the stock.

"No, sir. They are not for sale."

Oh well, at least I tried.

So I didn't walk out of the Nang Lit Cinema cradling thousands of dollars worth of rare Indian movie prints from the 1970's. Anyway, all the money in the world pales in comparison with the satisfaction of having seen - with my own two eyes - the tepid revival of one of Laos' few remaining stand-alone movie palaces.

Happy New Year all!