The Nefud Desert, Saudi Arabia. Searing, shimmering heat. In “Lawrence of Arabia,” T.E. Lawrence (Peter O’Toole in his first major role) and Sharif Ali (world, meet Omar Sharif) lead their soldier band at night through the “Devil’s Anvil.” One man, exhausted, falls off his camel. I saw this film probably in the ‘80s, but still remember Gasim, having awakened to his death sentence, walking as determinedly as he could before dawn.
“This is better on the big screen,” my brother, Ted, said as we watched on our mother’s VCR. (Remember those?) He had been so affected by the 1962 film he’d written his senior honors thesis at Harvard on Lawrence.
In the film, Lawrence realizes Gasim has been left behind and, against advice, turns back.
Watching the burning vistas, Ted groaned, saying, “You lose so much here.”
As a student, he went repeatedly to the Harvard Square Theater to watch “Lawrence.” He recalls, “I’d get a seat in the front row so I could see the sunrise over the desert, unobstructed, on a vast screen.”
In an iconic scene, Lawrence’s comrade, Daud, waits, peering from under a blanket at the horizon of scorched white, the merciless blue above. Then, does he see something? Do we? A ghost of a dot?
As stirring and symphonic as the rescue scene still is, yes, I wish I had seen one of the greatest moments in cinema at full size, in full glory.
I’ve always loved films. A movie, even in the era of streaming, is still my favorite night out. I’ve judged towns by whether or not they have movie theaters.
So I am crushed to hear that Movieland 7
in El Jebel, owned by Bow Tie Partners, is closing January 22 due to operating losses, according to The Aspen Times (Jan. 8), in our post-pandemic, streaming world, reflecting a general box-office decline. Every time I drive by the marquee on highway 82, I read the titles as fast as I can. Many are the times I’ve gone to Movieland, and to the soup bar at Whole Foods before or after, with or without a friend. When I was raising small children, that linkup was my bit of luxury. Lately, I saw “Song Sung Blue,” which I loved, though I would sure like to get “Holly Holy” out of my brain.
All of which brings us to Carbondale’s single-screen Crystal Theatre, still in operation after its owners Bob and Kathy Ezra retired after 40 years, choosing to sell to the nonprofit Crystal Theatre Alliance, which took over in September.
The Crystal has always shown independent and offbeat movies. I didn’t mind if we had to wait a little for them to reach our outpost. One year, when my mother flew out from Annapolis, Maryland, to help us with babies (now grown), she exclaimed, “‘Il Postino’ is here!” She’d been unable to find it at home, even by driving an hour into Washington, D.C. or 45 minutes to Baltimore.
Years earlier, my college roommate Catherine Harris and I, moving to Salt Lake City to work and ski, discovered a treasure of a little downtown, downstairs theater, the Blue Mouse. There, I saw “Aguirre, the Wrath of God,” about a river expedition seeking the mythical city of El Dorado in the Peruvian jungle; lush, moody and volatile, it introduced me to the director Werner Herzog and the crazy-looking actor Klaus Kinski. Another was the harrowing “Christiane F.,” based on a true story of a 14-year-old heroin addict in Berlin. “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” showed, weekly for a while, with regulars who would dress up as the characters, throw toast (during a toast), rice (at a wedding) and shout prompts before lines or even gestures.
The Blue Mouse is long gone, but other iterations remain. Ramona Roof, a longtime movie pal, frequents the nonprofit, community-owned Roxy in Missoula, Montana. “It takes donations and has volunteers to supplement the business,” she texted. “They serve organic popcorn with real butter in big metal bowls!” The Majestic in Crested Butte, incorporated in 2020, has been a nonprofit model for the Crystal Theatre Alliance.
I am so grateful we have the Crystal. There, in recent months, I’ve watched “All the President’s Men” (which everyone should see, annually), played movie trivia (our team tanked) and seen a 5 Point filmfest retrospective. Whether I’ve liked films or not, I talk about them afterwards with people, inside or out on the sidewalk. After a benefit showing of “Girl Climber” last month, I saw Holly Buell in the lobby with her daughter, Scout, and a friend, Gigi, both 8.
What did you like best? I asked the girls. “That she persevered,” Gigi said.
Holly says Scout has been talking about the film ever since.
Sure, I watch things at home, on our television, my laptop. Everyone I know streams movies and shows, and I “bundle” and prop an i-Pad on the treadmill console. I’ve walked over seven miles more than once watching episode upon episode (those cliffhangers!). But a big screen is just better, more immersive. Cinematic.
People have been shown to like movies more when watching in audiences. Studios, historically, tried to have critics see films among others. That’s why I, as a squirt of a journalism-school student, enjoyed a special advance viewing of “This Is Spinal Tap” in Manhattan in 1984.
I didn’t know a thing about the film, not even that it was a spoof. But the eight or 10 of us from Judith Crist’s style class were part of the discovery, laughing so hard that anyone in the auditorium would think the movie was funnier. I’m still devoted to that once-cult film, even now that key phrases — a band playing “the Enormodome,” “These [amps] go to eleven,” and, “He died in a bizarre gardening accident” — have spread. We’ll share.
Learn more about the Crystal Theatre Alliance and donate at www.crystaltheatrecarbondale.com