I love my cinema — Movietone
The Enchanting Gateway to Worlds Beyond
Nestled on the edge of our street, facing the bustling Kandy Road, was the Movietone cinema. A mere seven-minute walk from home, it was a haven for moviegoers in my neighbourhood. Compared to the grand cinemas of Colombo or even the Himali cinema at the other end of town, Movietone was a modest venue. It wasn’t part of the country’s elite cinema circuit, which made it magical. Here, a delightful mix of movies played — English, Sinhala, Hindi, and even the occasional gem from China. This was the early 1970s in Sri Lanka, when movies offered a window to a world far beyond our own.
English Movies were an adventure: Unlike the diverse genres available today, English movies back then were Westerns, crime thrillers, horror flicks, and the occasional comedy. These films transported viewers to a different world, filled with action-packed gunfights and a hint of sex, something largely absent from Hindi and local movies of the time. Watching an English movie was a dream for many, a chance to be transported to a land of cowboys, action heroes and villains, detectives, and monsters (mostly of the Dracula variety).
The Allure of Local and Foreign Flavors Sinhala movies, in black and white, showcased the talents of local actors. Hindi movies, in colour, on the other hand, were synonymous with love stories, with songs and sweeping emotions that captivated audiences. Chinese movies were a whole different ball game, transporting viewers to a world of sword-wielding heroes and gravity-defying kung fu masters.
These movies, playing at the unassuming Movietone cinema, were more than just entertainment. They were a window into different cultures, a source of dreams and a way to escape the every day for a few glorious hours.
A Motley Crew at the Movietone: A Raucous Night Out The Movietone wasn’t your typical cinema. Its audience was a motley crew, a vibrant tapestry woven mostly of young men. Armed with a hard-earned Rupee 1.10, they flocked to the venue, eager to escape into the world on screen. The seating offered a tiered experience, with the cheapest option being the gallery at a mere 55 cents. For a more premium experience, one could snag a back seat for Rupees 2.20. There was no balcony like in the cinemas in the city or Himali at the top end of town. Families were rare at the Movietone, and women were practically nonexistent. Back then, harassment was a concern, and women generally avoided cinemas frequented by a primarily male audience. This “ordinaries only” atmosphere gave the Movietone a distinct character.
My own experience at the Movietone was a sensory overload. Having scraped together the requisite Rupee 1.10, I found myself amongst the throng in the middle rows. The air hung thick with cigarette smoke, a constant companion as everyone seemed to be puffing away. The energy was electric — fight scenes erupted in cheers, and the hero’s triumphs met with thunderous applauses and whistles. It was a truly interactive experience.
Challenges at the cinema; But the adventure didn’t end there. Lurking beneath the surface, a bigger challenge awaited: the resident bugs. These tiny terrors feasted on unsuspecting patrons, their bites a constant annoyance. As a young boy of sixteen with only one pair of long pants, this became a strategic wardrobe choice — long pants meant a barrier between me and the biting brigade. The pervasive smoke added another layer to the experience. With everyone smoking, it clung to clothes like a second skin.This, unfortunately, became a telltale sign for my mother. A whiff of cigarette smoke was all it took to know I’d been to the Movietone, a transgression that often came with consequences.
Billboard and Posters: A large billboard hung near the busy intersection, promoting the latest movie with showtimes in bold letters: 2:30, 6:30, and 9:30 pm. In my school days, those late-night screenings felt like adventures reserved for much braver souls (or perhaps older kids).
The 9:30 pm show meant facing a walk home alone after dark, a prospect as thrilling as it was terrifying. After all, who dared to tempt fate and potentially meet Dracula lurking in the shadows? Besides, my curfew wouldn’t have allowed such a late-night escapade anyway.
The billboard and roadside posters were hand-drawn, a far cry from today’s digital displays. The artist, a dedicated fixture of the cinema, would occasionally misspell a word or two, particularly in English movies. But those imperfections were part of the charm, a reminder of a simpler time at the movies.
Remarkable Incidents: There were two remarkable incidents.
The first incident cemented the fear of Dracula in our neighbourhood. It involved a night of Dracula movies. Some local boys were so terrified by the films that one fainted, and rumours flew that he nearly died. This event became a local legend, leaving a lingering fear of Dracula creeping into our nights.
The second incident was a violent one of state terror. I heard from my friends that in the quiet streets near the Movietone cinema, an off-duty, out-of-town Navyman’s predatory intentions collided with the courage of local youth. The young lads, fueled by protective instincts, thwarted his assault on a local girl. But justice begets retaliation — some members of the Navy, likely friends of the perpetrator, returned to the area. Their Navy truck, a symbol of their authority, became a weapon against the very community they were meant to defend.
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