The Amarin Revisited - Loei, Thailand

It had been a full year since last I set foot in Loei, ample time for the cold heart of economy to wreak havoc on an aging picture house. Loei City's blue-hued dream factory - ye olde Amarin Theater - became a source of regret for your dedicated narrator, being one of the few functioning stand-alones that I neglected to catch a movie in when I had the chance. It's a stickler of a policy, I admit, but one I feel strangely committed to all the same; even on a few occasions when my own tolerance threshold was knowingly put to the test. Compulsion makes me enter! Compulsion, plain and simple.

The Amarin Theater by day

The Amarin, thankfully, never sank to such abysmal depths, so was never any cause for concern. But the looming chance that it might simply go kaputsky; out of business; relegated to memory and then rubble piles or some other grim fate, made its patronage a priority in my book. Somebody's abandoned dream, crumbling, cinderblock by concrete cinderblock, into an urban fabric that's steadily on the decline.

The Amarin by night, a beacon of film

Dystopian bloggers aside, the world isn't always as cruel as it's cracked up to be. After all, the Amarin Theater is still open for business: Loei's cultural aorta, its cinematic ventricle, a beacon of something to do in an otherwise run-of-the-mill little town.

A silent lobby...

...waiting for movie fans..

...before the start of the film.

At 10 minutes before the 8PM start of "Confuscius," starring Chow Yun Fat, the owner of the Amarin Theater, Phanida, holds out hope that at least a few of the Loei faithful will find the time and interest to take in a movie. "Business is not good," she admitted, seated behind the ticket window glass. "Every now and then we have a decent day, but not when a Chinese movie is showing. Chinese productions don't really have the same drawing power that they used to."

I waited and waited, hoping to document a theater lobby abuzz with action. I mean, come on! Who wouldn't be intrigued by the latest in state-sponsored film propaganda from China? And isn't Chow Yun Fat still the King of Cool twenty years after being one of the top box-office draws across Asia? Apparently not.

The ticket taker and Isan movie theater aficionado. We spoke for a half hour about old movies and movie theaters. He used to work for an Isan-based movie distribution company and recalls every theater in every province of the region. A kindred spirit through and through.

A man decides whether or not to watch "Confucius" at the Amarin Theater.

To watch or not to watch?

The exchange

Phanida, the owner of the Amarin Theater, behind the ticket window.

It was a slow night at the Amarin's box-office, with a turn-out of less than a dozen, myself included. Phanida and the other theater staff were warm and accommodating, nonetheless, welcoming the photo session and happy to talk movies and the theater business in general.

Dating only to 1977, the Amarin was the second movie theater venture undertaken by Phanida's family. An elder sibling built the now-closed Peth Rama back in the late 1960's. When questioned about the Amarin's future in the face of paltry ticket sales, Phanida smiled, playfully balled up a fist and waving it in the air exclaimed "we're fighting on!"

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The ones who make it happen: a May Day special

Once again, planet Earth has done its orbital duty, spinning us around to that annual celebration of hard working people the world over - May Day. In honor of this May Day, or International Labor Day, or whatever you choose to call it depending on where you're from, the SEA Theater Project is posting and re-posting photos of all the movie theater employees met during the last year. Often overlooked or behind the scenes, these are the people who make watching films on the big screen a reality. From ticket sellers to projectionists, sign painters to general managers, their labor allows us to enjoy our leisure. Chances are, while you're out taking in a movie over this extended Labor Day weekend, they're toiling away so it can happen.

Ticket seller/general manager at the BMC Daokhanong Cinema, Mr. Somsak

Ticket seller/general manager of the now-demolished Asia Rama - Mr. Narong

Ticket seller/projectionist at the Chinatown Rama - a "cruising" theater.

Ticket seller at the Chalerm P. Theater

Ticket seller at the Det Udom Mini Theater

Concessionaire at the BMC Daokhanong Cinema

Tickets and concessions at the Scala

Nid, the ticket taker at the now-destroyed Mongkol Rama

Nui, the ticket taker at the Chalerm P. Theater

Wearing the brown shirt, sitting in the background is the ticket taker at the Asia Rama (now destroyed). Sitting to his right is a film distributor for Nakorn Luang Distribution

Ticket taker/usher at the Amarin Theater in Loei.

Ticket takers from the Toan Thang Cinema in Saigon - that's Thuy on the right.

The projectionist at the Mongkol Rama

The projectionist at the Pyramid Theater in Ban Phai, Khon Kaen

Mr. Anisek, the film distributor working for Nakorn Laung Distribution, counting theater patrons at the Mongkol Rama.

Noppadol Rattanaboonsin, general manager at the porn-showing Hawaii Theater

The caretaker at Pak Chong's Chalerm P. Theater, painting over an old movie poster.

Mr. Somboon, the billboard painter working for the Coliseum theater circuit, poses next to his latest work.

The Saengcharoen Theater (A.K.A. 4711 Theater) - Mahasarakham, Thailand

Sanctity, for some, is best found in the confines of the cinema. For movie-goers of piety: priests, monks and other holy mouthpieces speak hollow babble compared to the 35 millimeter gospel of the projector. Sermons are conducted regularly throughout the day, 7 days a week, in the temples of film - with mid-night specials for night owls at times, too. Naturally, then, for the more cinematically devout among us, losing a movie theater is like losing a house of worship. And losing a movie theater to a house of worship is no less blasphemous. On this particular occasion, though, gripes will be tame, because the Hope of Mahasarkham Church staff were very decent about letting me document their abode - the former Saengcharoen/4711 Theater.

The Saengcharoen/4711 Theater in downtown Mahasarakham, now a church.

Locals dated the Saengcharoen Theater to the late 1960's, though specifics beyond that were vague. Everybody in town likewise referred to it as the 4711 Theater, without explanation as to why that was. Possibly a lucky number of some kind? An auspicious digit chosen to help increase ticket sales? Nobody seemed to know, least of all the church staff, who referred to it only as the Saengcharoen.

Crucifix fixed to the roof

Symbols embedded in the floor

Sure enough, in the floor of the lower atrium, "4711" was embedded in the concrete, along with a strange design loosely resembling a face. My immediate thought upon seeing this insignia was that it had something to do with the occult. Maybe the builder, the now-deceased Mr. Saengcharoen, had dealings with some underground religious order, and movie revenue was its source of funding. In all likelihood the symbol and number have far less sinister origins, but it's fun to fantasize, either way.

จัตุรัสบันเทิง embedded in the concrete floor.

Also embedded in the floor throughout the theater were the words Jaturat Banterng (จัตุรัสบันเทิง), or Square Entertainment. Again, nobody on the premises could offer a solid answer as to its background, so I took it upon myself to concoct a story: Jaturat Banterng is the code name for a cult, don't you know? Right, and they would hypnotize movie-goers with subliminal messages inserted in the reels of film. When exiting the theater, those who had been entranced were snatched up and whisked away in a van, driven to a remote cave outside the city. There they'd be fed to an enormous lizard called Zcang, while the cultists engaged in orgies of blood. Since Mr. Saengcharoen died and the theater closed, the cult has lost it main source of sacrificials. But in the hills surrounding Mahasarakham, lizard-skinned men are said to hunt the inebriated by the light of the moon.

Cryptic numerology and symbols aside, the Saengcharoen/4711 was an architectural masterpiece of a theater. In the upper-level atrium, floor-to-ceiling windows allowed for natural illumination, as erstwhile theater patrons awaited the movie's start. With all its glowing whiteness, the Saengcharoen/4711 naturally lends itself to church use, though I wouldn't have wished it such a fate.

Naturally lit atrium

Built-in benches curve sleekly around the atrium balcony

From a movie-watching perspective, the theater must have been in an elite class. Acoustics inside the auditorium were the best I've ever heard in a movie theater. Sound was confined and smooth, without the slightest echo or reverberation. It was more akin to a music recording studio than a movie theater. Crisp and clear under pin-point engineering.

When will we learn?

Seating was arranged stadium style, descending from back to front, with perfect sight-lines throughout. The seats themselves were like butter: deep pocketed, with plenty of leg room and reclinability. Sitting perfection.

Church band drum kit, in front of the screen.

The Church of Hope is apparently the fastest growing religious order in Thailand, with their missions recruiting largely from the young and impressionable. Mahasarakham is a fairly large college town, so it makes sense that they would a open a church there. The Hope of Mahasarakham Church has been renting the Saengcharoen/4711 Theater for the past few years, but word has it that they're putting up ten-million baht for its purchase - testament to the profitability of the almighty.

If I had that kind of money to spare I'd buy the Saengcharoen/4711 Theater myself, set up a trust for it and have it screen movies til kingdom come.

Vestiges of the Coliseum Theater - Bangkok, Thailand

About a year ago, I took my first trip to Bangkok with the sole intent of seeking out old theaters. A few days prior to that, I corralled myself in the library, flipping through the foxing pages of old Thai business directories to make a list of as many pre-multiplex theaters as I could find reference to. For the most part, little more than theater names and phone numbers were listed. No addresses. Nevertheless, I set out with hopes as high as the sky that between the later addition sky-scrapers and megamalls a vestigial temple of film might have been spared. No such luck. Every one of the 25 or so listed theaters belonged to the elite first-run theater circuits, occupying prime real-estate in central Bangkok's commercial and financial districts. All but the Apex 3, Bangkok's last first-run stand-alones, are gone.

While on the streets around Phayatai and Ratchathewi I spoke with dozens of shop-keepers, vendors and other ground-floor merchants hoping to get a theater lead. All they could do was point to high-rises, or vacant lots where there once stood what I sought. Names like Hollywood, MacKenna, Athens and Coliseum were mentioned frequently, accompanied often by nostalgic smiles, or reminiscent moments of silence. Once even a burst of outrage, just for show, I think.

The Coliseum Theater, featured today, was built by Mr. Maitree Kitiparaporn, one of Bangkok's more prolific theater builders of the 1960's and 70's. By the 1980's, Kitiparaporn's theater company, known as the Hollywood circuit, was being run by his daughter Pannin. She merged the Hollywood circuit with Apex, creating the Pyramid Circuit from the two. Later Pannin left the theater business and went on open Dream World, Bangkok's first and only full-sized amusement park. The Apex Three at Siam Square - Lido, Scala and Siam - are all that's left of a once-vast movie theater empire.

The above photo depicts the entrance arch and marquee to the now-demolished Coliseum Theater. It was taken by an American veteran stationed in Thailand during the Vietnam/American War, Robert Jazdzewski. A hand painted billboard above the marquee shows Aurthur Penn's 1967 romp "Bonnie and Clyde."

Though we can't see the Colisuem Theater itself, it's still a nice little capture of a time and a place.

The Sothon Rama - Yasothon, Thailand

The legend of the Sothon Rama holds that it was Northeast Thailand's largest theater of all time. A plausible legend, given the former theater's three-story verticality and ability, in the wake of film, to house a full-on department store. But short of a nod from the movie theater authorities, we'll keep it at that - an unconfirmed rumor to report on a blog.

Hot pink paint on the former Sothon Rama. Coloring reminiscent of the Yaem Yasothon films. Go figure!

Colors, I'm told, are mood makers. Orange is supposed induce hunger and red inspires awe of some sort. Pink makes me sick, especially when it's slapped across the facade of my favorite kind of place. But this is Isan, where neon hues reign supreme. For all I know, pink triggers a shopping mechanism in peoples' brains.

Big pink

Overlooking the former lower lobby, now a women's apparel department.

Sales woman in the shoe department, once the 2nd level lobby.

"Can I help you with something, sir?"

Photos of the Nanaphan Plaza interior are strictly prohibited. Management fears that spies working for rival department stores might use the photos to discern pricing schemes and undercut them. I had to show evidence to the extent that I'm no more than a movie theater enthusiast, traveling far and wide in search of lifeless gems. The interrogation was rigorous. I was asked repeatedly if I was single and which of the employees I found most attractive. Inwardly flustered, I kept my cool, said I dug them all, and finally got the green light.

Auditorium-turned-storage room

My theater escort guides the way up to the 3rd level lobby, where projection booth and soundtrack rooms are located.

A store security guard escorted me through the lesser used regions of the old theater. It was in these parts that the legend of largest seemed to ring true. The lobby was three levels high and equipped with a soundtrack room on the third floor. Before being gutted, the auditorium contained in excess of one thousand seats and the missing screen was purportedly immense. Being a late model stand-alone, dating back only 30 years or so, the builder would have had the benefit of hindsight to know how big he had to build to be number one. Sadly, his aspirations didn't last very long. Only into the mid-1990's, when the theater shut down.

Into the projection room

Empty boxes replace projectors.


Roof-top perspective

Up on the roof, beside the free-stand letters, a clear view of the little Isan city and its low-rise skyline. The Sothon Rama must have been the most popular place in town for a while, if not the biggest. The prime destination for family outings and checkers out. Now the sign letters say Nanaphan Plaza, where โสธรรามา once stood. Yet another indication that, far from improving, the world of mankind is steadily getting worse.

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