The Rotjanasin Theater: a Lom Sak film den from 1966-1999
Ticket window, covered by sign, blocked off by furniture.
A wrap-around sofa stands in front of the ticket window
Below the auditorium, furniture abounds
Mr. Suwit, owner of the furniture warehouse that now occupies the former Rotjanasin Theater. Thanks to him, I was allowed to go in and take pictures.
Gutted and replaced by furniture
The little town of 
Spurred on by export-driven agricultural expansion and a budding manufacturing sector, stand-alone movie theaters mushroomed throughout Thailand during the 1960's and 70's. But by the early 1980's, construction of these movie megaliths slowed significantly, ending an 80-year run of architectural creativity in cinema form. Trends of the time were dictating multiple functions under one roof, catalyst to the scaled-down "mini-theaters" which began to open in department stores across the country. The marriage of department store and mini-theater was short lived, however, as the high-powered, high-consumption pact of multiplex theater and shopping mall grew to envelop the middle and high-end retail sector in all the major Thai markets. I don't think there's a single theater operating inside a department store anywhere in Thailand these days.
O.K. Rama in its plaza confines
Tarp over sign
The Banhan-Jamsai TowerWhen the Khmer Rouge seized power in Cambodia in April 1975, they almost immediately began to evacuate the population of the cities and towns and relocate them to the countryside. Phnom Penh remained a virtually empty city until January 1979, when the Khmer Rouge were pushed out of the capital to the jungles in the northwest of the country.
After the fall of the Khmer Rouge, people started to return home and look for lost relatives. Many tried to move to nearby towns or to Phnom Penh in search of safety and rice distribution. In principle, entering Phnom Penh was prohibited, but surveillance was not tight. By the end of 1980 Phnom Penh was home to more than 300,000 people. Public utilities, however, did not function. There was no electricity, no water supply, no solid waste collection, etc. People occupied whatever was available: villas, apartment buildings, temples and cinema.
In front of a movie theater-turned-tenement in Phnom Penh c. 1991
When I visited Phnom Penh in 1991, I was taken to a cinema which was being occupied as a living space. It was located in the old part of the city, but I have no address. People were living on the stage, under the balcony and in the projection room. They used the auditorium as a shared space to cook and hang laundry. It was not difficult to take pictures due to a huge, gaping hole in the ceiling, caused, I was told, by a bomb. During subsequent visits to Phnom Penh, I was told that people continued to live in the cinema.
Everyday life in a defunct movie house; balcony and projection window up above (1991).
In post-Khmer Rouge Cambodia, migrants flooded the cities in search of food, shelter and their former lives. As a result, some movie theaters were converted to housing.
Interior of cinema circa 1991
On a return visit to Phnom Penh in 2008, I asked a friend if I could visit that same cinema again. We went to Street 130 in the old part of town, but to my surprise, it was not the same cinema that I visited in 1991. This one was called Hemakcheat and was likewise occupied by families who had built their huts in the auditorium. Inside was pitch dark, therefore difficult to see the conditions and take photos.
Facade of the Hemakcheat Cinema c. 2008
Makeshift huts erected in the auditorium
The occupants had not organized any solid waste collection in the cinema, but rather threw the lot of it down stairs to the ground floor. As a result, the entire staircase leading up to the auditorium was filled with garbage.
The original design of the cinema is still not very clear to me. There were many families living in rooms on different levels on the side of the cinema. Additional rooms have also been built on the roof.A mountain of waste festers inside the Hemakcheat Cinema
Life in Hemakcheat
I asked my friend about the cinema I visited back in 1991, but he did not know that there was (or ever had been) another cinema used as living quarters. It is possible that it has since been demolished. I imagine, however, that there are many people in Phnom Penh who visited these two cinemas and hence know more about them. Maybe, then, somebody could correct and/or supplement the above information.
The Fa Lanna Cinema decays in the middle of Asawin Market in downtown Lampang. Its abandonment only dates back 6 or 7 years, prior to which it was one of Lampang's premiere first-run movie theaters. Asawin Market continues to thrive, as many open-air fresh markets do, but in the absence of cinema it lacks the kind of stimulating appeal that it had in years past. It must have been nice to snack on some freshly grilled sai uwa (northern Thai sausage) before ducking into the Fa Lanna.
Classic signage
Vandalism
An old storage room falling to pieces
Roof aperture and screen decay 
Fa Lanna translates to "Lanna Sky," Lanna being the traditional name for the provinces of Thailand's upper north. It means "one million rice fields." Chiang Mai had long been the de facto capital of the Lanna region, though political unity among the various city-states was likely more tenuous than is often cited in history books. At the end of 19th century the Lanna provinces were annexed by Bangkok to become part of greater Siam, though maintaining a cultural identity independent of Bangkok has been a local priority ever since. In a titular way, the Fa Lanna Cinema was one manifestation of northern pride; a passive assertion of identity in the face of Bangkok's economic and cultural domination. But in Lampang today, the lone operating movie theater is a Thana Cineplex, subsidiary of the Bangkok-based Phranakorn Films. So much for local ownership in the movie theater business.
This was the Krung Thon Rama, later known as the California Theater. When I look at these photos, which come courtesy of Mr. Peep, I can't help but shake my head in disappointment. It must take an extremely cold stroke of judgment to oversee the destruction of a building like this. Sure, it's no Taj Mahal or Sistine Chapel, but it was obviously conceived with a higher ideal in mind; a movie cathedral to serve the surrounding neighborhood. It's hard to imagine a building like the Krung Thon Rama comprising anything less than an emotional connection to the people living in the area. Rising above the roof, its free-standing letters boldly announced the theater's presence. Come one, come all, to a world of fantasy. High lancet arches upholding the facade informed the entrant that they were leaving their troubles behind for a while.
The Krung Thon Rama was a 1972 addition to Bangkok's silver screen circuit, enlivening the Thonburi area of town on Jaransanitwong Road, Soi 57/2. It was the brain child of Mr. Sa-nguan Saengwerapansiri, who was a bit of a movie theater mogul of the times. Saengwerapansiri founded such other movie palaces as the Prathipat, the Chalermpan and the Siam theaters, which later became the New Orleans, Chicago and Las Vegas respectively after being sold to Apex in the late 1970's early 80's. His Krung Thon Rama was renamed the California following the transaction, operating under that title until its final closure in 2003. It has since been destroyed.
The eerie remains of the Thewes Theater can be found on Sam Sen Road in the Bangkhunprom section of Bangkok. A rusting sign mutely announces the Thewes, hidden from view down an urban fox-hole; a trok - a narrow lane.
Bangkok's river districts, particularly in the central area of town, do wonders for the imagination. These are the city's older neighborhoods, built from a combination of regal audacity and commercial necessity. Rows of shop-houses face onto roads designed with rickshaws, ox-carts and the occasional princely sedan in mind. Between these shop-houses run small lanes, leading to hidden villages, temples and mosques. A cemetery here, a meat market there; mazes of history dense with the past, narrow in width. Here the remnants of age old enclaves lie meticulously stuffed within the metropolis, as if they were its vital organs. Slave settlements and merchant settlements and warrior settlements of Mons and Khmers and Viets and Malays who've all shed their ethnicity over the generations in exchange for being Thai. All shielded from sight by a barrier of buildings, roads and time.
Looking down the tiny lane towards a ticket window and flight of stairs leading to the auditorium. It's an undeniably chilling sight.
Follow the arrows.
An open door beckons.
Inside the gutted auditorium.
Before it shut its doors for good, the Thewes had become a purveyor of pornography. Such viewing fare was common among Bangkok theaters between their economic cooling periods and their eventual closure. Now there's only a handful left in operation.
