I'm currently in my hometown, Wichita, Kansas, visiting family. I left Wichita, I sometimes joke, so I could just see a movie without having to project it myself. In those pre-Netflix days, desperately wishing to see foreign films, and silent movies, and all kinds of things, I helped run an existing (but dying) film society and then started its replacement. I booked the films, wrote and designed the brochure, and even projected the films myself. (I was not the world's best projectionist, but adequate enough, I guess.) Then I moved to Chicago— okay, work had something to do with it too— and threw myself gleefully into the anonymity of attending movies without being responsible. I admire those who collect film and put on shows like Cinevent and Cinesation, but am very happily a bystander and supporter rather than a direct participant.
Except we never really leave such things behind. Specifically, the nervous feeling that you have a full house and something could go wrong. The dream for me often went like this: I had a full house for my screening of Napoleon. But I looked at the reels and... oh hell! They seem to have sent me an episode of Green Acres by mistake! I put the reel on and start running it forward to see if Napoleon is on there somewhere— but the reels start moving slower and slower, and the audience is getting restless...
I had this same dream in various forms, adapting to changing times— sometimes it was a VHS of Napoleon I had to fast forward through— but in the last decade it seemed to finally leave me. Until I came back to my hometown this week.
We were showing King Kong— by some system by which it was projected onto both the screen and one of the side walls. Jack Theakston and I were in the booth. (I have never met Jack in real life, but I know he's involved with the Capitol Theatre in Rome, NY, so I suppose that's how he wound up in this particular dream.) Because we were showing it on two walls, there was some elaborate mirror system in the booth that made it really hard to move around the booth without casting your shadow onto one of the images of King Kong. Suddenly we realized— they didn't send us the last reel! How could you show King Kong and not show the ending? People would riot! Jack, quick-thinking, put on a two-strip Technicolor short he just happened to have with W.C. Fields in it (actually it turned out to be three-strip and Fields, who was used to only working in two-strip, himself commented on the unusually good quality of the color) while I desperately tried to figure out where we could come up with the last reel of King Kong in time....
I woke up, dread hanging over me, and saw this in the local paper this morning:
The Orpheum is a very fine old atmospheric-style theater, I saw House of Wax there as a kid ('71 reissue), which has been slowly restored over the last couple of decades into a performing arts space. I wish them well; I will send them a check, not for the first time. But more than once, it has been the location for one of these dreams. And all I can say is, it better stay the hell out of my dreams tonight.
Except we never really leave such things behind. Specifically, the nervous feeling that you have a full house and something could go wrong. The dream for me often went like this: I had a full house for my screening of Napoleon. But I looked at the reels and... oh hell! They seem to have sent me an episode of Green Acres by mistake! I put the reel on and start running it forward to see if Napoleon is on there somewhere— but the reels start moving slower and slower, and the audience is getting restless...
I had this same dream in various forms, adapting to changing times— sometimes it was a VHS of Napoleon I had to fast forward through— but in the last decade it seemed to finally leave me. Until I came back to my hometown this week.
We were showing King Kong— by some system by which it was projected onto both the screen and one of the side walls. Jack Theakston and I were in the booth. (I have never met Jack in real life, but I know he's involved with the Capitol Theatre in Rome, NY, so I suppose that's how he wound up in this particular dream.) Because we were showing it on two walls, there was some elaborate mirror system in the booth that made it really hard to move around the booth without casting your shadow onto one of the images of King Kong. Suddenly we realized— they didn't send us the last reel! How could you show King Kong and not show the ending? People would riot! Jack, quick-thinking, put on a two-strip Technicolor short he just happened to have with W.C. Fields in it (actually it turned out to be three-strip and Fields, who was used to only working in two-strip, himself commented on the unusually good quality of the color) while I desperately tried to figure out where we could come up with the last reel of King Kong in time....
I woke up, dread hanging over me, and saw this in the local paper this morning:
Orpheum Theatre renovation could boost downtown
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BY BILL WILSON
The Wichita Eagle
If timing is everything, then Wichita's 90-year-old Orpheum Theatre couldn't have picked a better time to launch a multimillion-dollar capital renovation campaign.
Preliminary work has begun at 200 N. Broadway toward a goal of a full-scale restoration beginning in a year that will bring the historic theater back to "destination status," said Jennifer Wright, the Orpheum president.
http://www.kansas.com/2011/08/04/196050 ... pheum.html" target="_blank
The Orpheum is a very fine old atmospheric-style theater, I saw House of Wax there as a kid ('71 reissue), which has been slowly restored over the last couple of decades into a performing arts space. I wish them well; I will send them a check, not for the first time. But more than once, it has been the location for one of these dreams. And all I can say is, it better stay the hell out of my dreams tonight.
We should respect the other fellow's religion, but only to the extent that we respect his theory that his wife is attractive and his children intelligent. —H.L. Mencken

