When the news came out that Cinema 1,2,3 on Third Avenue was permanently closing last week, there was much shock expressed. Personally, my reaction was more resigned, tinged with some nostalgia. For a very long time, I was convinced that the theater’s demise was inevitable. That piece of land–across the street from Bloomingdales–was just too valuable to remain as a triplex movie theater. So as much as the pundits will try to frame this as another in a long string of closures signaling the end of the theatrical movie business, it’s actually a real estate story.
I have every reason to be sad about this particular theater’s fate. When I worked for Don Rugoff in the 1970’s, I spent countless hours there, either to see whatever was playing or at our morning acquisition screenings. Every Friday, Bea Brydson, who was our office manager, would roam the halls and hand out four passes that were good for any showing at any of the Cinema 5 theaters. When I started the job, Robert Altman’s “Nashville” was playing at Cinema 2, and I was smitten. I used my passes week after week to see it again and again at what was a perfect venue for a widescreen film that had a multi-channel soundtrack.
My love affair with the Cinema 1 & 2 theaters continued throughout my many incarnations in the distribution business. At U.A. Classics, and later at Cinecom and Fine Line, many of our films had their exclusive first runs at these theaters. And we had many memorable premieres at what were considered at the time to be the most prestigious theaters in Manhattan. One of my favorites was the premiere of the director’s cut of Martin Scorsese’s “New York, New York,” which was not only attended by Marty and the cast of the film, but also, quite weirdly, by Jerry Lewis and the members of The Clash. Continue reading “Obituary for a Movie Theater”
It’s been a long road. After five years in production and a nearly two-year pandemic delay in the theatrical release, my film “Searching for Mr. Rugoff” finally opened in theaters in over 40 cities this past August. The response has been beyond my wildest expectations, both the reviews, as well as all the wonderful notes I’ve been getting from audiences around the country and around the world. The most gratifying part has been the reception from younger audiences, who have no reason to relate to the film on a nostalgic level. Their response (thank you, Columbia students) gave me the confidence to complete the project, and ultimately to pursue as broad a release as possible.
Seth Willenson, who died this week at the age of 74, was a good guy. I know that sounds like faint praise, but in a business that thrives on over-stuffed egos, it actually means a lot. He was also someone who loved movies, understood the structural ins and outs of a complicated and constantly changing landscape, and found success seeing opportunities where others didn’t. He was also a great judge of talent and mentored many a young aspiring film executive.
Within a month of when I started working at Cinema 5 in 1975, Joan Micklin Silver’s first feature, Hester Street, opened at the Plaza Theater on 58th Street. The Plaza was one of the Cinema 5 theaters and it was located around the corner from our offices. Every night, on the way home from work, I would see the lines of people stretched all the way down the block toward Park Avenue. The film was a huge hit. Around that time, I first met Joan and her husband Ray when they came to our offices to make a deal with us to distribute the film to the non-theatrical market. I learned that my boss, Don Rugoff, had turned the film down for theatrical distribution because he thought (as many others did) that the film was “too niche.” But now that the film was a hit, he wanted in.
