Dust to dust on Thanksgiving

From the city of Philadelphia, USA, on this Thanksgiving Day, I give thanks that I had the chance to watch a movie at the Thai Rama Theater in Uthumpon Phisai, Sisaket Province in Thailand's great Northeast. My visit to the theater four years ago was inspirational on a number of levels, but most notably because of the unbridled community spirit with which the theater operated. The ticket price of 20 baht, the lowest in the country at the time, was testament of the owner's devotion to the residents of her native town.

The Thai Rama piqued my affection so much that I pitched an article about it to The Nation which was subsequently published on January 15th, 2012

Sadly, the dismal economics of the business got the better of it. Earlier this year it closed down and was soon after demolished. As of right now there are exactly 4 operating stand-alone movie theaters in Thailand outside of Bangkok.

Images the Thai Rama's condition after the fact were kindly sent by a follower of this blog who resides near the theater.

In life

Dismantled

Gone

Nearly identical shots from the Thai Rama's projection room, before and after dismantling

A day in the life of a projectionist

The life of the projectionist is one of silent toil. His work is carried out in stuffy quarters, beside noisy machines, usually alone, yet it's the basis of mass entertainment. He is like a conductor in that sense, a disc jockey, only without the notoriety that comes with being seen or heard. As an occupation, the projectionist is the faceless link in the movie industry supply chain. A critical link, no doubt, but one which is fast losing its prestige, if not its place in the industry.

Amnuay is a veteran projectionist. A true old hand. He got his start as the projectionist at the Sri Surin Theater in neighboring Surin province before moving to the Sisaket Rama in the provincial capital. Both theaters are now out of business. A decade has gone by since he got his third gig as projectionist at the Thai Rama here in Uthumphon Pisai. Notwithstanding a miracle, there won't be another chance to practice his craft should this gig expire. Fortunately, the Thai Rama sustains, if for no other reason than its owner enjoys running it. A bastion of family entertainment in small town Isan. The owner's rock bottom entrance fee of 20 baht is the lowest in the country, making the big screen accessible for even the most pecuniary. In the second decade of the 21st century, an active stand-alone theater in rural Thailand is a rare occurrence.  

Amnuay opens the lamphouse of his projector, revealing the xenon bulb. 

Amnuay mans a clunky, two-reel changeover projection system that could be in a museum. It's at least as old as the theater itself, which dates to 1977. In the working life of projection equipment, that's grandfatherly. Only with a lot of extra tweaking and coddling are these machines able to perform.

A cacophony of motors sets an industrial mood in the projection room. Antiquated projectors require hawkish attention. At times they caused the on-screen picture to shake, the result of a loose imaging lens. The audio system failed for a moment, too, leaving the audience of 20 or so in unintended silence. The amount of attention required just to ensure a steady picture, an even light source, is praiseworthy. This is no mindless task. Tedious, yes, but skilled no less. 

When one reel has nearly finished, Amnuay switches on the other projector. The so-called "changeover" system staying true to its name. The expired reel is then removed and taken to an adjacent room where it's rewound by hand.

Split view

Rewinding by hand

The rewinding bit seems to have a meditative quality. In the minute or two it takes Amnuay to complete a reel he seems lost in thought, watching as the film shrinks from one reel only to grow, correspondingly, into a tightly wound circle on the other. Occasionally he glances out the wall opening towards the distant screen, checking that the film is playing smoothly in his absence.

Above the wall opening hang portraits of the King and Queen. Most businesses in Thailand keep images of royalty prominently displayed. In this day and age, to not is to rouse suspicions. The portraits on display in the Thai Rama are inscribed with blessings of good luck and prosperity. They've presided over this room since the beginning.  

Amnuay pauses, staring blankly into existential nothingness as the movie plays on in the background.

While the projectors hum away, clamorous in their melody, Amnuay takes a moment to read the newspaper. Moments like these mark the completion of a reel cycle. Several minutes pass this way before he returns to the machine to adjust its components. It takes about 5 or 6 reels to complete a typical feature film.

A smoke break provides Amnuay a moment to take in the movie. 

Another solitary moment for Amnuay, his machines clanking away in the background. It was not too long ago, he recalled, when the theater was full on a regular basis. The Thai Rama had an original seating capacity of one-thousand. Now only 200 seats remain, the rest sold off as scrap. 

The projectors in this steamy little room are aged artifacts. When they go, so will the theater. Projectionists like Amnuay, operators of these aged artifacts, are like members of a fading guild. They are a breed of their own. To see the occupation at this particular point is to watch occupational Darwinism unfold before your very eyes. A sterile silence awaits this room where dreams have been projected twice a day since 1977.  

Amnuay shrugs and cracks a smile before loading another reel.

The Thai Rama - Uthumphon Pisai, Sisaket, Thailand

Like countless little towns dotting the Thai countryside, Uthumphon Pisai comes across as a functioning time capsule. Core sections of such towns are much as they were when they developed in the mid-20th century, spurred towards growth by market-sized agricultural yields from Green Revolution technologies. 

Town fresh markets, still a staple of community life, are now concrete instead of wood framed, as are most commercial structures. Those wooden structures that do survive often have an endearing sag to them, like the dear old aunties and uncles who so often call them home. They belong to a visibly different era.

It's the town outskirts where the 21st century makes its presence known. Inter-province highways on town outskirts are lined with the same kinds of big-box retailers that led small town America to a needlessly early grave.The central business community is challenged by the hyper-markets on town's edge. 

Generally speaking, local movie theaters are in a similar, if not more dire position. Closed or altogether demolished, virtual unknowns to the new generation of would-be movie-goers. 

But in Uthumphon Pisai, the Thai Rama has managed to cling to life through simple economy: at 20 baht, it's the lowest priced movie ticket in all of Thailand.

The Thai Rama Theater

Like most stand-alone theatres in small Thai towns, the Thai Rama was built near the heart of the community, perfect for a largely pedestrian population.

When it opened in 1977, much of the countryside had yet to be linked to the electricity grid. The local cinema, then powered by diesel generator, topped the list of places to go for entertainment. That has all changed over the last two decades.

In Uthumphon Pisai, however, for less than the price of a bowl of noodles, you can still experience the joys of the silver screen the old-fashioned way. A family of five, living off a single minimum wage, can comfortably enjoy this luxury at such a price.

But it gets even better than that: In a display of her affection for the business, the Thai Rama's owner-operator - a middle-aged woman who inherited the theatre from her late parents - outdid her own rock-bottom price.

"Buy tickets for next week's movie today and pay only Bt10," she announced recently as a group of patrons filed through the door.

Her explanation as to why so low: "We're an old theatre, without air-conditioning, and in need of a paint job." Clearly this is a theatre owner for whom community spirit trumps profits.

Wooden doors and sign for 20 baht movie tickets, the cheapest in Thailand.

Pleasantly absent at this astonishingly low price are the droves of rambunctious teens that must be negotiated at the multiplex in the shopping mall. Thai Rama attendees are there for the sole purpose of watching a movie, not as an afterthought on a shopping spree.

Thirty minutes worth of onscreen advertisements prior to the show is likewise not an issue at the Thai Rama, in contrast to the big-name multiplexes. Instead, the erstwhile norm of a few previews and the cinematic homage to the King is all one sees.

High school students make memories in front of the old Thai Rama.

Verandah view

Monarchical marketing before the start of the film

Admittedly, for Bt20 - six times below the national average for a movie - there are some noticeable technical omissions. For one, there is no frigid air-conditioning as is common at the multiplexes. In fact, the Thai Rama has managed to cool its patrons for 35 years with nothing more than industrial-sized wall fans.

Nor will you find fancy seats with cup-holder armrests that can be raised to get closer to a date. The seats at the Thai Rama are metal framed, deep-pocketed and - though sufficiently comfortable -perform no function other than providing a place to sit, one person at a time.

Signage

But even if the rickety, two-reel projectors caused the picture to shake at times, and the antiquated sound system botched the audio during a few scenes, the overall movie-watching experience is pure joy. Maybe it is precisely this rustic imperfection, this down-home sense of community, that's so comforting in an age of superficial gloss and hyper-consumption.

Either way, at Bt20 a pop, it's hard to complain.

"The Past that Never Left"

The front page of the leisure section in last Sunday's The Nation newspaper (Thailand) features a SEA Movie Theater Project story about Thailand's lowest priced cinema hall. You can read the on-line version here.

The said theater has yet to be posted on this site. Consider this a sneak preview.

The Sisaket Rama - Sisaket, Thailad

Alleyways can be unnerving city features. They're reputed crevices of crime almost anywhere you go. The word "alley" goes well together with the word "lurk." Foul smells emanate from alleys. Rot is found down them, animal carcasses and dead humans from time to time. The narrow paths are associated with murder, main-lining heroin, diseased sex and helplessness in the face of robbery or assault. Bruce Wayne's parents were gunned down in a Gotham alley, right in front of the future weirdo's eyes. With all these unsavory ideas racing across my mind, I entered Soi Rama (theater alley), in a quiet corner of downtown Sisaket.

There's a snooker hall just beside the Sisaket Rama, where the frequent sound of phenolic resin balls banging into each other added life to this eerily silent concrete chasm. Opposite the crumbling theater sat a group of young working girls waiting for johns in front of a mildew-coated, row-house brothel. "What are you doing here, boy?" asked the eldest of the bunch. I explained my purpose in the best Lao I could muster, which went something like "Hello, I'm a nerd, I like movies and I love old movie theaters." They laughed and flirted and offered their services which I declined as other alleyway vagrants moved in to inspect the scene. Cautiously, I withdrew my trusty camera and turned my attention to the rotting behemoth looming above.

Moments later, a shout come from one of the snooker hall windows, redirecting my attention from a photo shoot around the Sisaket Rama's piss-scented perimeter. There in the barred window stood a man with a pool cue in one hand, making frantic signals with the other. First, he pointed at the theater in a rapid back and forth motion. Next, he tilted his head to the side and with his free hand, made like he was pulling a noose around his neck. After that, he ran his extended index finger horizontally across his throat, repeating the entire routine two or three times in succession until I acknowledged him. "You mean somebody died in there?" I asked, trying to appear shocked. He nodded silently.

Ignoring the mute snooker player, I returned to my study of decrepitude with the knowledge that besides being an abandoned wreck, the old Sisaket Rama is haunted, as are a good 50 percent of all habitable entities in Thailand.

Frontal overgrowth

Weeds

Movie theater or mausoleum?

A peek into the lobby

"Don't believe that old fool" came a man's voice from the direction of the working girls. "Nobody ever died in there. It's just a filthy old theater with trees growing up through the floor." Next to the group of women sat a wiry middle-aged man on a knee-high plastic stool, scraping the plaque off his protruding tongue with his thumb nail. "The Sisaket Rama has been closed for years," he said. "Maybe twenty by now. And I'll tell you, it was a lousy theater from the start. The steps up to the balcony were too steep and the aisles were too narrow. So uncomfortable to watch a movie there. The guy who built it was a real idiot, if you want the truth. But there was never any kind of death in the place."

"Do you know what year it was built?" I inquired.

"Let's see," he mused aloud. "How old are you?"

"Thirty"

"That's about how old the theater is; a few years older at the most. I was about your age when it opened and now I'm 60."

We talked briefly about the town of Sisaket, about the three or four stand-alone movie theaters that it had in the past, among other scintillating discussion topics. Today, the city's cinema scene sits on top of the Sun Heng department store, consisting of a 4-screen multiplex run by a small Isan-based theater chain called MVP. It's charmless, but it's better than no theater at all, which is the case for a number of provincial Thai capitols.

"Marquee Mark and the Rusty Bunch"

Side exit with clothes strung out to dry

Free standing letters

So theater alley turned out to be a lot less sinister than I imagined. Shady, for sure, but basically harmless, even with a clunky old camera in hand. The fact that there was still daylight probably helped a lot. I definitely wouldn't recommend going there after dark. Just to be on the safe side, I wouldn't recommend going there at all.