The Sirimitr Rama - Ban Grud, Bang Saphan District, Prajuab Kirikhan Province, Thailand

It took an extra three hours longer than normal to get to Ban Grud from Bangkok thanks to the undercarriage of my train catching firing 20 minutes out of the station. Almost 10 hours worth of travel to spend a whopping 6 minutes documenting the local picture house. Sad but true. Maybe I'm losing some my enthusiasm for this work after all these years?

Probably not.

The reality is there was no chance of getting inside this place, the exterior has very little remaining of its original details, and above all else there was an angry dog getting all worked up over my presence. A biter, said some neighbors. Figured I'd get my few shots in, ask a few questions and be on my way.

The lower half of the facade is the only part of the Sirimitr Rama with any remaining detail.

The Sirimitr Rama is indeed pretty bland. Aside from the ticket booth and surrounding veranda area, which still has some cool old detailing, most of the theater's original wooden components have been removed and replaced with a concrete frame and walls. The only reason it's left standing at all is because it has been converted into a swift nesting house, a common adaptation for old movie theaters in coastal Thailand. 

The ticket booth, complete with classic ornamental iron work. On the wall above it reads "Coming Attractions" and "Thanks for coming."

Iron work on ticket booth

A single lotus column supports the former projection room from the veranda below. The lotus column in Thai architecture is a sure sign of an early post-World War Two build. 

In hindsight, the highlight of this little research/photography jaunt today was my stroll down the main commercial street of Ban Grud. A commercial housing stock comprised almost exclusively of two-story wooden shop houses lines both sides of the street. This old world elegance is a nostalgics dream. Even the vinyl sun screens in front of the shops have a classy old look to them. 

Main street in Ban Grud

As I approached the Sirimitr, which is at the far southern end of the main drag, set back a bit from the building line, I noticed an elderly couple sitting in front of their house staring at me. I gave them friendly nod and "hiya doowin?" as I got closer. Then, out of the blue, before I could even get my question out, they gestured for me to walk a bit further, accompanied by the affirmation of "old movie theater." I guess I look like I'm looking for old movie theaters. Maybe they recognized me from TV. Whatever the case, it was kinda freaky. 

The man turned out to be a relative of the owner. He related that the Sirimitr was built in 1961 under the name of the Chalerm Sin Theater, and that the name was changed to Sirimitr when it was purchased by his relative. 

Most importantly, he kept the mean dog at bay while I took my pictures, and was kind enough to drive me down to the little beech front hotel that I'm writing this post from.

"A cinema to be treasured in Mon State"

From FRONTIER MYANMAR July, 12th 2017

Myanmar's architectural treasures include an ornate teak cinema in Mudon that was built nearly 100 years ago and is probably unique in Southeast Asia.

Words and Photos by PHILIP JABLON

Myanmar’s reputation at Southeast Asia’s jewel box of heritage architecture is well established. From colonial-era masterpieces and rare examples of Tropical Art Deco, to vernacular architecture of every age, Myanmar likely contains the best-preserved collection of vintage buildings in all of mainland Southeast Asia.

Almost as well established is the precariousness of that status. Due to lax zoning regulations and weak enforcement of cultural heritage laws, many of Myanmar’s historic buildings stand in existential limbo, with market forces holding ultimate sway over their fate....

Click here for full article  

Scroll down for expanded photo essay.

The Aung Nan Mingala Cinema

A very simple ticket window. The smaller hole on the left was for the purchase of balcony level tickets.

The name of The Aung Nan Mingala Cinema on the gabled facade.

Auditorium views. The bare circles on either side of the screen once held paintings that were commissioned specially for the cinema.

The cartouche atop the proscenium, welcoming one and all to a world of escape.

Details of a balustrade surrounding the veranda.

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Help support movie theater preservation

Feeling generous today? Want to contribute to the documentation of historic movie theaters in Southeast Asia? If so, please consider making a donation to The Southeast Asia Movie Theater Project. All donations between now and the end of the year will be used to survey more theaters in Myanmar, where enchanting gems like the one featured above are steadily being lost.

Every little bit helps me keep the project going.

The Yan Aung Thiri Cinema - Ye, Mon State, Myanmar

One of the surest ways to stoke the flames of interest about a place is to make it off-limits. Give it some time and the unknown - hence unverifiable - will invariably give way to rumor, myth or otherwise fantastical ideas about said place. The harder it is to access, the greater the fantasy will arise. 

Take Ye, for instance (pronounced Yay). In 2011, when I was first in the vicinity, overland travel between Dawei and Mon State, where Ye lies, was prohibited. The official reason was that a long running stand-off between the Mon National Liberation Army and the central Myanmar military, commonly known as the Tatmadaw, made travel unsafe. Foreign visitors were barred from entry, leaving the ancient Mon principality to take on mythical status in the minds of the excluded. That allure was further heightened, in my case, by a lone golden affirmation straight from the mouth of a Ye migrant cabbie that I had questioned in Yangon the week before: "Yes," he proclaimed, "there is a cinema in Ye." 

 

The Yan Aung Thiri Cinema. A staple of the Ye townscape since 1974.

The city of Ye and surrounding hinterland opened to tourism in 2013, allowing for all the speculation to be put to rest. There is indeed an old movie theater in town. Two, in fact; amid what is yet another leafy, human scale Myanmar city that anybody with penchant for charming urban forms should make a pilgrimage to. 

A man takes a short cut through the Yan Aung Thiri Cinema, abandoned or about 10 years.

A good number of the movie theaters I came across during my recent Mon State tour are, for lack of a better description, rudimentary structures. That's not to say that they're not well constructed, or made of fine materials. They are. In fact, you'd be hard pressed to find a theater builder anywhere in the world in this day and age build a theater that has hand crafted teak wood stairs leading to a teak balcony. Or a teak proscenium painted in pastel colors. How about exposed wooden support columns running up the side of the walls? Good luck trying to find anything close to that in a theater built today. But in the realm of decor and what you might call creature comforts, these theaters were simple creations. 

At the most extreme end of simplicity is the packed dirt floor of the Yan Aung Thiri. Structurally, while definitely a feat of craftsmanship, it is devoid of even the most basic ornamentation, or sveltness of design that most people associate with old movie theaters. Its brick nogging exterior surface and exposed wooden structure endow it with an anti-industrialism that echoes the Arts and Crafts movement in the West. That, however, is an unlikely connection for a small town Myanmar movie theater from the early 1970's.

There's some holes in the wall, where tickets were sold to all.

Rays of morning sunlight stream through broken windows at the rear of the auditorium

Cinema ephemera litters the floor beside hand-crafted teak stairs leading to balcony seating.

The most notable ornamentation at The Yan Aung Thiri Cinema is the multicolored proscenium that framed the screen, since removed.

By 1974, when The Yan Aung Thiri Cinema was built, Myanmar, then Burma, was well down "The Burmese Road to Socialism," the political philosophy developed by General Ne Win's military government. The basic principles of this ruling mandate were based on xenophobia and superstition, with the state as the guiding hand of everything. 

The Yan Aung Thiri was a product of that state. So, although it's a fine building in many ways, its simplicity probably has roots in the socialist values purported by the government, if not the fact the country had simply grown too isolated and poor to build anything much more luxurious.

Most of the rows of teak wood seats have been removed.

Discarded movie posters cover the floor of the balcony. 

Street scene in front of The Yan Aung Thiri Cinema. A woman came up to me while I was taking photographs and said she hoped that somebody would come and fix up their movie theater.

The Yan Aung Thiri Cinema is a bona fide landmark, albeit an under the radar one, in a town that for years had been completely off the radar. Like Myanmar in general, the self-sequestering of Ye led to severe stagnation. It also had the effect of freezing the town in time. To see the city now is to step into a past that elsewhere in Southeast Asia people are, more or less, beginning to lament the loss of. Such is the price of progress.

If Myanmar is wise it will take note of such sentiments and put resources towards preserving whatever it can of its prized past, movie theater or otherwise. Economic stagnation may indeed have inadvertently preserved countless cultural treasures. But preservation by neglect only goes so far. And now the far more tenacious adversary of demolition by progress is entering the ring.

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A moment of your time.....

Are you a fan of The Southeast Asia Movie Theater Project? Want to see it continue and expand into new towns, cities and countries? If so, you might want to consider making a donation. As the sole proprietor of this project, I'm more often than not funding it on my own. And while I do so with pride and joy, it's difficult to sustain. Your modest contribution will help me reach these old theaters and continue raising awareness of them. Maybe even a few will be preserved along the way. 

Sincerely,

Phil

Movie theater ephemera from central Thailand

Movie-goers of yesteryear often sat on wooden bench seats like this:

Rare wooden movie theater demolished in southern Laos.

If it's any indication that Laos' overall economy is growing, another of the country's historic cinemas has been knocked down to make way for a new structure. This marks the 4th Lao theater to fall since the SEA Movie Theater Project got underway in 2008.

The Ta Luang Cinema stood in the heart of a residential neighborhood in central Pakse, the 2nd largest city in southern Laos. Probably the most notable aspect of the Ta Luang (Royal Port) Cinema was that it was built almost entirely from wood.

In the early days of cinema in Southeast Asia, wooden theaters were the norm, as were most buildings built before World War II. Concrete became the standard building material after the war, leading to a gradual replacement of most of the region's wooden theaters.

Burma still has many theaters that have wooden auditoriums, but their facades are made of concrete. As for theaters made completely of wood, facade and all, only three have ever encountered here; one in Bangkok, one in Chiang Kong and the Ta Luang, which exists no more.

Isn't it good, Laotian wood?

Save for the foundation, the Ta Luang was all wood.

A peak inside the Ta Luang Theater reveals a screen still. 

Pakse sits astride one of several Greater Mekong Sub-region transit corridors, designed to increase overland trade from Vietnam's coast to the ports of Burma. As a result, the city has seen a rapid rise in economic activity, from light industry to tourism.

   

Rumor has it that a guesthouse will replace the demolished Ta Laung Cinema. 

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.

The Soe San Cinema - Thazi, Madalay Division, Myanmar

A stop over in Thazi wasn't part of the original itinerary. The town's very existence defied my knowledge until the night before the train dropped me there. I hadn't taken notice of it on any map, in any guide book or through any other medium, despite my scramble to learn everything I could about Myanmar before arrival. Had it not been for an American father and daughter I met at my guest house in Toungoo, I would still be in the dark about Thazi. They not only convinced me to hop the train to Thazi with them the next morning, but very generously paid my way, too. Traveling altruists to the highest degree.

Thazi, it turned out, is a little junction town along the Yangon-Myitkyina train line, with a spur shooting out eastwards into Shan State and a north-westerly loop up to Mandalay. Being a junction town is ostensibly the source of its crooked reputation: entrepot for contraband and haven for hoodlums. One can only imagine an inglorious history chock-full of traffickers and stash-houses, proscribed goods from the country's vast hinterlands passing through Thazi en route to yonder ports and border crossings. But I wouldn't know anything about that stuff. I only came with the intention of documenting some movie theaters. What I found in Thazi was architectural gold in vernacular form, plus one of the most fascinating glimpses into the social life of the cinema I've ever seen.

This is Thazi's lone cinema, the Soe San, the first cinema I encountered in Myanmar that was made mostly of wood. Thazi is such a small place that the Soe San Cinema only warrants screening films once every other evening. There's simply too few movie-going residents in town for more than that. But the Soe San offers alternatives to its lack of theatrical regularity. Walk around to the rear of the auditorium to find an attached VCD rental shop, along with a snooker hall. At the front end of the Soe San is a long, narrow room with a projection television mounted on the wall. This room, approximating a mini-theater, is for broadcasting football matches.

Window to the VCD rental shop at the back of the Soe San Cinema

A blackboard displaying upcoming football matches.

Ticket seller waits by the entrance to the Soe San's football den

Tickets to enter the football den are 100 kyat, or about ten cents.

Every Myanmar aficionado I spoke with prior to departure clued me in to the proliferation of the football dens. They often serve as substitutes for movie theaters in towns too small to support one. In Thazi, however, the football den is included in the Soe San Cinema, making it an all-in-one entertainment center.

My night in Thazi coincided with day three of the 2010 FIFA World Cup. The Soe San's football den was in full swing on account of it, with matches broadcast live from Johannesburg via satellite. Almost all the seats in the six or seven rows of benches were occupied when I arrived. An exclusively male audience sat silently imbibing the game, while smoke from their cigarettes and cheroots twisted up to the ceiling. A kindly young manager, who could speak a lick of English, let me set up my camera and tripod at the rear of the den, noticed but otherwise ignored by the preoccupied crowd. It was a photographer's delight.

On the right hand side of the above photo, a monk can be observed watching World Cup football in the Soe San Cinema's football den.

Mesh wire serves as a window for the ticket booths at the Soe San Cinema.

Looking at the side of the auditorium

Concessions include mangos and bananas

In many ways Myanmar's football dens are the local equivalent to pubs in terms of watching a sporting event. The difference being that for many of Myanmar's football fans there simply are no other options. It's either pile into the football den or don't watch at all. This is generally how it's done in a country where the average household lacks any electrical appliances, if they have electricity at all.

Another interesting facet of Myanmar's football dens is that they serve as a link to the wider world for a people largely cut-off from it. Viewing something as seemingly routine as a football match broadcast from England or South Africa constitutes a major break from the strictly local perspective most Myanmar get. There's an inverse to that equation, however.

For juggernauts like the European football leagues, their products get to be seen by even the most remote denizens of one the world's poorest countries. Whenever the trade sanctions against Myanmar are lifted, brands with a televised presence will likely enjoy a competitive advantage in this new market. Transnational corporations hawking football-related products will get rich while the football dens that introduced them disappear. Such is the way of the world.

The Chiang Khong Rama Theater - Chiang Khong, Chiang Rai, Thailand

Countless pedestrians have strolled past this building, oblivious to the fact that for a long time it was the only venue in Chiang Khong for locals to spend their leisure time. Yes, from 1962 until about 1990 the Chiang Khong Rama was this sleepy Mekong town's portal into another world.

A minutia of evidence: Coming soon!

Before the joys of cinema were given a permanent home at the Chiang Khong Rama, Chiang Khong's denizens had a Likay hall (Likay is a kind of Thai theatrical performance) which occasionally screened films. Nothing more. In 1962, the father-in-law of Dongsawang Intrapornudom, pictured below with his wife Jae, figured that Chiang Khong was ripe for a movie theater of its own - thus was born the Chiang Khong Rama.

Lets have a look inside!

View from balcony, overlooking the mezzanine and where the screen used to be. The Chiang Khong Rama Theater is now a warehouse, storing products that Dongsawang sends across the Mekong to Laos.

Wooden pillar holding up the balcony.

Jae standing on the balcony. The photo is looking towards the projection and sound windows at the rear. Notice the ceiling fans above.

Old wooden seats.

The projection/sound room. The square window next to the door was where the projector worked its magic.

Poster for Sydney Pollack's 1975 clasic 3 Days of the Condor. In Thai it translates to "3 Dangerous Days."

Side view of the Chiang Khong Rama Theater, with the Intrapornudom's house and garden beside it.

This photo was taken at the Intrapornudom's house. Jae is holding a poster of Mitr Chaibancha, the top male actor in Thai film from the late 1950's until he died on the set of a movie, Insee Thong, in 1970. He was killed when he fell from a rope ladder, dangling from a helicopter. The poster, which was hung outside of the theater for a year after Mitr passed, reads:

With deepest regret for the loss of Mitr Chaibancha

Chiang Khong Rama Theater and Mitrasilp Photo Studio

Mitr's death is considered the saddest day in the history of the Thai film indstry.
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Dongsawang was in his early 20's when his father-in-law built the Chiang Khong Rama Theater. After his father-in-law passed away, Donsawang became the sole proprietor, operating the theater until TV and video became widespread in Chiang Khong and the crowds stopped coming. In the 45 minutes we spent together he was able to recount a multitude of stories from his days as movie theater boss. He recalled that Laotians from across the river would cross over on the weekends to come to the movies and that at times, he would hold illegal, after-hours pornography viewings for the good old boys in town, just to name a few. Those days, however, are quickly fading memories.

In the last decade or so, Chiang Khong has found new economic life trading with a more market-oriented Laos. For a small town it has developed a decent sized tourist industry thanks to the immigration check-point that's there, as well. But to their great disadvantage, the people of Chiang Khong no longer have the Chiang Khong Rama Theater to rely on for a bit of escapism.