The Yadana Cinema - Kalaw, Shan State, Myanmar

From bustling Taunggyi we traveled westwards, toward the edge of the Shan Plateau. Our destination was Kalaw, the second of the old British Burma hill station towns, where we held out hope for a colonial-era cinema hall or two.

More of a glorified village than anything else, Kalaw sits cupped within a high mountain valley flanked by pine tree-covered peaks. Like Pyin Oo Lwin, Kalaw was originally established as a British military outpost on the Shan frontier. But as the threat of insurrection on the Shan Plateau waned, Kalaw developed into a hot season retreat for British officialdom, as well as a market town along the Taunggyi train line. The surrounding hills, populated by an ethno-linguistic spectrum that includes Pa-O, Danu, Shan and Palaung, compliments a town of equally diverse composition. Where ever in Burma the British settled so grew communities from other colonies in the British Empire. Indians, Pakistanis, Bengalis, Nepalis established themselves in various crafts and services along side British-run resource extraction industries. Some of the migrants came to work as laborers in the industries themselves. One lifelong Kalaw resident spoke of nearby villages settled by ethnic Turks recruited by the British in the early 20th century to build the railroad. For all its physical smallness, Kalaw is one of the more culturally assorted places in Myanmar, if not all of Southeast Asia.

An operating cinema, however, it does not have. The remnants of two mark the low density city scape, but none can be said to provide entertainment any longer. The elder of the two cinemas, despite its lengthy stint of cessation and minimal external evidence of its former self, is quite a gem. Its name, Yadana, even translates as such.

January was apparently the wrong time of year to try to photograph the former Yadana Cinema, as direct sunlight never graced its north-facing facade.

Front door to the erstwhile Yadana, now a drinking pub called "Mr. Thumb's."

Kalaw's kaleidoscopic diversity helped spawn the Yadana Cinema, built in 1953 by a Persian Zoroaster businessman. Touted as a much admired denizen of Kalaw, with business acumen to match, the cinema showman left town and country shortly after the military coup and subsequent nationalization of movie theaters in 1962, settling with his family in Canada. During our visit, several of his daughters, now elderly women, made a trip to their birthplace for the first time since leaving. A stopover at the old family cinema hall was made, but we were unfortunately not able to arrange a meeting.

In the plasterwork just below the crown, Yadana can be seen spelled out in Burmese script. Below that, the barely visible romanized spelling of Yadana Cinema Hall has been chipped away.

Wood framed windows

A former cinema lobby-turned-dive bar.

What was once the lobby of the Yadana Cinema is now a drinking pub called Mr. Thumb's - a veritable dive specializing in Premiere League football broadcast via satellite. I spent an hour or so there nursing a Myanmar Beer, trying to pick out details of the cinema's former self. The only obvious leftover is a plaster molding on the wall reading Yadana, above which is the outline of poster box. One can only imagine the colorful movie posters tacked in that space during the 1950's, and the intrigue they must have inspired in the residents of this relatively remote outpost.

Plaster molding on the wall reading "Yadana" below where movie posters were once hung. The sign in the corner of the photo reads "To all partons: please do not rinse your mouth and spit it back in to beer mugs."

Yadana

Side door to auditorium

The front half of the Yadana might bear scant evidence of its former self, but step into the back and the old auditorium will leave you with no doubts. Unused save for an annual New Years party held by Mr. Thumb, the auditorium of the Yadana is a blast from the past. It's not hard to imagine packed houses on chilly Kalaw nights, with captivated crowds, their myriad tongues collectively silenced by a spectacle unlike any other.

A bare auditorium at Yadana Cinema

During my brief furlough in Kalaw, I had the good fortune of meeting a lifelong native who has since taken up the mantle of social activist for the surrounding rural communities. As a young man in the 1950's this local notable was a regular at the Yadana. Jogging his long memory yielded vivid recollections of the film fair of his youth: Elia Kazan's "East of Eden," Cecil B. DeMille's "The 10 Commandments" and the epic "Ben Hur," directed by William Wyler, among others, all came to mind. Such forms nostalgia will be absent from today's generation of Kalaw youth as they reach their twilight years.

Another blow to the silver screen

There's a pile of things I've been meaning to post about, but lack the time to do so. Naturally, this site being what it is, most of the said topics relate to movie theaters. The most relevant, however, does not relate directly to the rapturous stand-alones of Southeast Asia, even though in some places and certain cases parallels do abound. We turn instead to the halls of corporate Hollywood, against which the directorial elite are up in arms over the future of movie-going.

About a month ago, four Hollywood studios began negotiations with a cable television provider to make new releases available on-demand shortly after their theatrical debuts. Such a move, argue some of Hollywood's top filmmakers, would have adverse affects for the movie industry across the board.

If the deal goes through, the latest in film could be accessed via Video On-Demand television a mere two months after hitting the big screen, further undercutting the profits of already-hurting movie theaters, many of which recently doled out large sums to buy 3D-capable projection systems.

But its the demise of the movie-going experience which most worries the likes of James Cameron, Peter Jackson and twelve other Hollywood heavyweights whom have spoken out against their corporate employers. Economics aside, there is no better way to view a movie than on the silver screen, the way the medium was developed. The arbitrary undermining of this practice would further diminish one the modern eras richest social practices.

At least one Hollywood producer has suggested that the only way to rationally get around this impasse would be for the studios to start investing in their own movie theaters. Doing so would guarantee larger box-office returns for the huge conglomerates by overturning anti-trust legislation passed over 60 years ago in the case the United States Vs. Paramount Pictures (filed originally by Philadelphia's own William Goldman Theater Co.). The landmark case forced Hollywood studios to sell off their theater holdings, thus opening the door for smaller exhibitors to show the latest goods from Tinseltown. It was a genuine instance of FDR-style Trust Busting finding application in the cinema.

What all this means for movies and movie theaters throughout Southeast Asia is yet to be seen. Likely each country will experience different effects depending on the profusion of Hollywood movies into the local market. That is, if anything happens at all. Regrettably, the SEA Movie Theater Project places little faith in the corporate world of modern motion pictures to do right by anybody other than themselves.

Day of the Theatersmiths: a 2011 May Day special

On this, the first day of May 2011, the SEA Movie Theater Project shines the spotlight not on the glorious stand-alone cinema halls of Southeast Asia, but on the workers who make them run. If not for these silent toilers, whose time and effort is dedicated to the leisure of others, life would be sorely lacking. Here are some of the theatersmiths I ran into during my travels over the past year.

The ticket taker at the Nakorn Non Rama, in Nonthaburi, Thailand. He's been there for over 20 years.

The projectionist at the Win Cinema, Toungoo, Myanmar.

The assistant manager at Mandalay's Myoma Cinema.

Ticket sellers at the Cherry Lwin Cinema, Pwin Oo Lwin, Myanmar.

Ticket seller at the Grand Cinema, Meiktila, Myanmar.

The staff of the Nay Pyi Daw Cinema in Mandalay, at rest in the lobby while the film was showing.

The ticket seller at Bago's Shwe Hintha Cinema stamps the date of tickets before showtime.

The two night projectionists at the Myathuka Cinema in Taunggyi, Shan State, Myanmar.

This young lady works the door for balcony seating at the Waziya Cinema in Yangon.

Ticket seller at the Waziya.

The rough and tumble security guards at Yangon's Shwe Man Cinema.

The Shwe Man Cinema's lovely day time door girl.

This woman has been taking tickets at the Mingala Thiri Cinema for a long, long time.

Not exactly theatersmiths, but laborers no less. These gentlemen work in the out-of-commission Gon Cinema loading and unloading non-perishables.

Happy International Labor Day, everybody.

The Myathuka Cinema - Taunggyi, Shan State, Myanmar

The ever-stagnant world of Myanmar politics recently experienced some rumblings. Earlier this month, General Than Shwe announced the devolution of his exclusive power and the dissolving of his party, the State Peace and Development Council (SPDC). Excitement over this development, however, should be tempered by the fact that it will likely amount to little more than a reshuffling of oligarchs. Maybe a few trading in their soldier threads for civilian attire. A dog and pony show put on by professional plunderers. Fortunately, for those of pure mind and spirit, there are far more pressing issues to follow in Myanmar, such as the state of the country's movie theaters. To that extent, the final installment of Taunggyi's movie theater triumvirate is now on display.

The lime-green color scheme on the Myathuka Cinema's exterior might not be the most attractive, but there was some logic involved in this verdant aesthetic maneuver. Myathuka means "Delightful Emerald" in Burmese. As a visual expression of a name, the effect is poignantly bad. The more I look at it, in fact, the more ridiculous it seems. A lethal, toxic shade of green standing right there on Taunggyi's main thoroughfare. But lets not judge a movie theater by its paint job! Beyond the exterior, intrigues are to be found in abundance.

Clusters of ribbon window on the Myathuka's facade.

An empty bell tower marks the crest of the Myathuka Cinema.

One of the Myathuka's more striking features is a bell-less bell tower at the top corner, facing out over a fairly busy intersection. Apparently without a bell from day one, the ersatz tower manages to add a bit of stoic dignity to the block, much like a church or a town hall.

Another architectural oddity can be found in the interior. As with most movie theater auditoriums, the floor of the Myathuka slopes downwards on a gentle gradient, getting deeper as it approaches the screen. But in a bizarre twist of design the four rows of seats closest to the screen begin a sharp incline, raising movie-watchers upwards as if they were sitting on the crest of a frozen wave.

Looking down over the lobby.

Ticket booth

The purchase

A Tumbling Kelly doll, signifying resilience, adds a bit of color to the ticket booth counter.

Projectionists two.

Operating a carbon-arc projector from the late 1950's is a hands-on task. A slowly burning carbon rod needs constant attention, lest the image quality fade as the carbon rod gets shorter. Here the projectionist monitors the carbon rod's length, adjusting a reflecting mirror to keep the light source consistent.

The projector's glow.

For the past 10 years, the majority of movies produced in Myanmar have been done so on VCD format. Using this medium allows a movie to be made for about ten-thousand dollars, roughly one-tenth the cost of making a movie on film, of which only a handful of movies are made each year. The cheaply-made VCD/DVD movies suffer an immeasurable absence of quality. Moreover, the formats of such movies require LCD projectors in order to screen them, which don't come close to matching the richness of film-projected movies. At the Myathuka, I had the pleasure of watching a domestic movie projected from film for the first time outside of Yangon. Being more expensive to make, directors generally put more effort into making film movies look decent. Cinematography is a practiced art-form in these movies, so even if the story is shallow, which it invariably will be, at least there will be technical value.

The movie I watched at the Myathuka happened to be the latest from Myanmar's most acclaimed active director, Sin Yaw Mg Mg.

The two night projectionists pose for a shot.

Exiters and movie posters.

Signage

As of now, Taunggyi remains a city characterized by its compactness and walkability - a trait common to nearly all of Myanmar's urban centers. The expansion of car suburbs is limited to Yangon, where a soulless stretch of conurbation spans ever northward. With the resources of a city like Taunggyi concentrated in the urban core, stand-alone theaters can survive. In Taunggyi they even seemed to be doing well. But Taunggyi's churning economy, the result of being the primary market town in southern Shan State, makes it susceptible to sprawl. If ceasefires between the ruling Junta and the various armies based in Shan State are adhered to, Taunggyi's economy will only grow stronger. Already the roads are more congested than most other Myanmar towns I've visited. And as congestion increases, those with the means to do so will likely move further afield in search of elbow room, if not to flaunt a little status. Their retreat will herald the end of a dynamic urban core, where three stand-alone movie theaters can operate effectively.

But until that happens the Myathuka Cinema should be open for business. So if you find yourself in Taunggyi, go watch a movie there. Marvel at the up-turned seating at the front of the auditorium. Gawk in repulsion at its heinous paint job. Hideous or not, the Myathuka is the largest movie theater in Shan State. It deserves a visit.

The Myoma Cinema - Taunggyi, Shan State, Myanmar

In the Myoma Cinema, what we have is a clear case of "facadicide" - that's fake Latin for murdering a building's facade. At some point in the last ten or so years, some genius had the brilliant idea of slapping this repulsive plastic paneling over the Myoma's original Art Deco frontage. Now it looks more like a giant car stereo than the work of a trained architect. The theater actually dates to the 1950's, back when the art of cinema building was at its peak across Myanmar. You can be sure that what was covered up is far more attractive than what you see.

Out-dated sound and projection systems are often death knells for stand-alone theaters. In such cases, the wealthier multiplex with its corporate efficiency swoops in to corner the market left out in the cold by the ailing stand-alone. Movie theaters, like any structural type, should be kept up to date as much as possible to avoid such fates. Masking a stand-alone's facade, however, the work of an artisan, behind cheap, prefabricated material, ought to be a punishable offense. The perpetrator has recklessly devalued the visual aesthetic of the street-scape to which the theater is a part. As for Taunggyi, it's been violated! Look on with a astonishing boredom.

Crime of the small minded

In an effort to make up for this dullard of a post, I'll leave you with this passage from Ryszard Kapuscinski:

"Our world, seemingly global, is in reality a planet of thousands of the most varied and never intersecting provinces. A trip around the world is a journey from backwater to backwater, each of which considers itself, in its isolation, a shining star. For most people, the real world ends on the threshold of their house, at the edge of their village, or, at the very most, on the border of their valley. That which is beyond is unreal, unimportant, and even useless, whereas that which we have at our fingertips, in our field of vision, expands until it seems and entire universe, overshadowing all else. Often, the native and the newcomer have difficulty finding a common language, because each looks at the same place through a different lens. The newcomer has a wide-angle lens, which gives him a distant, diminished view, although one with a long horizon line, while the local always employs a telescopic lens that magnifies the slightest detail."

(Kapuscinski, Ryszard. 2001: The Shadow of the Sun. Vintage International. p. 171)

The Bandula Cinema - Taunggyi, Shan State, Myanmar

As mentioned in the previous post, Bangkok's Sala Chalerm Krung Theater was commissioned by King Phrajodhipok - the 7th monarch of Thailand's reigning Chakri Dynasty. Up in the northern Thai city of Chiang Mai, four of the old stand-alone theaters were built by Prince Suriwong Na Chiang Mai - a member of the annexed kingdom's royal household. Crossing the border into Laos, at least one of the theaters in Vientiane - the converted Saeng Lao Cinema - was erected in the 1950's by a descendant of Lan Xang nobility, while the Pakse Theater in the capital of Champassak Province sprang from the purse of Prince Boun Oum Na Champassak. By now I'm sure you've guessed the pattern: in the Theravada states of Southeast Asia, aristocracy and movie exhibition have long gone hand-in-hand. In at least one case, the same holds true for the princely domains of Myanmar's Shan State: Taunggyi's Bandula Cinema.

The Bandula Cinema with its Greek Revival detailing

The years following World War II were years of high hopes and aspirations in Burma and other parts of Southeast Asia. Decolonization, coupled with the need to rebuild from the war, unleashed a tidal wave of productive energy throughout the country, if not a fare share of often-violent political jockeying. Economic elites of both the hereditary and business variety took advantage of this watershed in opportunity to pursue their interests, forge a new society. Construction of new buildings boomed, as dates engraved on the cornices of many attest to. The years from 1948 to 1962 are common birth marks upon Myanmar architecture.

It was at the threshold of independence - 1947-48 - that the Bandula Cinema came into existence. The driving force behind the project was a man of Shan nobility, the Sawbwa (king) of Hsisaing - Hsisaing being one of the many royal cities of the Shan territories. Under the British, Taunggyi was made the administrative capital of Shan State, as it lay conveniently outside the jurisdiction of any local Sawbwas. When independence from the British was achieved, a touch of nationalistic cynicism accompanied the Sawbwa of Hsisaing's decision to dub his new cinema the "Bandula." The name is in reference to Bandula the Great, Maha Bandula - a legendary, almost mythical general dating back to Burma's own imperialist days. Despite his military prowess, Badula was killed in battle defending the country against the British, blown to bits by a rocket as he tried to rile his demoralized soldiers. His death meant the demise of Burmese independence, the full onslaught of the British and their colonizing ways. With their departure in 1947, however, the choice to name his cinema "the Bandula" was an obvious, if not subtle, "good-riddance" directed at his oppressors by an old aristocrat. Sadly, the last Sawbwa of Hsisaing died of a stroke before his theater was completed.

A leather tanner adds color to a jacket in front of the Bandula Cinema

Entrance

Details on the Bandula Cinema's exterior tiles. The Greek Revival design is the first I've ever encountered on a Southeast Asian movie theater.

Lobby view

Ticket window and lobby cards.

After the movie let out.

Signage

It's been over sixty years since the Bandula Cinema first opened its doors and it's still going strong. For all intents and purposes, the theater's profitability has kept it from being reduced to rubble. Taunggyi is a genuine boom town; as the populous scrambles to acquire riches, they seem to have forgotten to look after the town's structural heritage. Almost everything older than 1962 has been razed and replaced by cheaply made riff-raff from materials trucked down from China. It's pretty shameful! In fact, Taunggyi is the one and only Myanmar town that I felt no love for.

I do, however, have love for the Bandula - the only cinema in Southeast Asia I've ever encountered that has elements of Greek Revival architecture. Obviously it's a fairly loose interpretation of the style, but charming all the same.

(Many thanks to U Tsai, nephew of the last Sawbwa of Hsisaing, who jostled his memory for long-forgotten facts and figures)