The Paramount Theater: Polk Street’s Heartbeat

The proverbial “digital divide” creates a chasm between those with access to technology and those without, but another discourse flies under radar: the digital divide also demolishes connections to history. Over the past decade, many elements of the Golden Era of Hollywood have been outmoded by advanced technology; cameras no longer require celluloid film and movie theaters converted to digital projectors. The precursor to this technological dominance actually began in the 1970s and 1980s due an industrial shift. As a result of this industrial shift, one of the most well-remembered movie palaces of the Texas Panhandle, The Paramount Theater, fell victim to the introduction of multiplexes and mall cinemas. In 1975, the Paramount Theater closed its doors while the community shut its eyes to a relic of the booming Amarillo township. Before its decline, the Paramount Theater served as the metaphorical heart of Amarillo, and without its working presence, the vitality and sense of community dissipated. Amarillo, as a whole, no longer functioned as a collective family of moviegoers, but rather a divided city separated by class.

Movie palaces began popping up in the early 1910s in order to accommodate feature film productions too prolonged for nickelodeons or vaudeville houses. In turn, moviegoing became an experience of escapism and leisure as audiences followed more complex and lengthy narratives. Palace aesthetics operated specifically to “provide its patrons with a sense of individuality”, regardless of their social and economic class; elaborate African, Oriental, and later Art Deco designs of the palaces were meant to provide a feeling of upper class for the lower class audiences. Exterior “iconographic features” such as box offices, marquees, and lit blade signs extending from the side of the building were constructed to impress upon moviegoers an interior presence. Charlotte Herzog’s article “The Movie Palace and Theatrical Sources of Its Architectural Style” claims “the marquee and the sidewalk below formed parenthetic arms that enveloped and funneled [customers] into the theater”. These parenthetical arms captured any and every demographic gathered beneath them and immersed patrons in the “safety, comfort, and luxury of its interior”.

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Hooray for Hays!

For those of you who have the pleasure of hearing “old movies are boring” from co-workers, friends, and family — fret no more! Our newest episode, “Hooray for Hays”, debunks their theory by addressing the sex and schmaltz of Pre-Code films and supporting the creativity used by filmmakers under the infamous Motion Picture Production Code. Katie and Hilary play devil’s advocate and defend the Code in this informative and entertaining podcast. Listen to find out if you belong in the “duped” or “clued in” category and enjoy some of the most risque and quotable lines from the Golden Era!

Searching for Scarlett: How Four Hours Lack the Depth of Over 1000 Pages

This is an adaptation of an essay of mine which I wrote for a class this past year.  Personally, I prefer the novel over the film but please keep in mind that I STILL LOVE THE FILM.

A great source of inspiration for Hollywood has been in the adaptation of plays and novels.  One of Hollywood’s greatest films from its greatest year, 1939, was adapted from Margaret Mitchell’s best-selling novel, Gone with the Wind. Through different modes, both media exhibit Scarlett’s will to survive, but the film does not record Scarlett’s character development as thoroughly as the novel.  The novel gives her more depth because the reader has access to her inner thoughts.  The film version of Gone with the Wind makes Scarlett appear more heartless than she is.  This article will set out to prove that her full development as a character is stunted in the film because the viewer cannot know her thoughts.  Instead, the film tries to communicate her thoughts through cinematography, montage, and colour.  These techniques of the film medium are used to express Scarlett’s desires in moments of intense emotion, but the viewer misses out on knowing her specific opinion on certain events.

Close-ups are used throughout Gone with the Wind in moments of intense emotion to compensate for the loss of internal thoughts.  One scene where the close-up lacks the detail of the novel is the most critical scene of all – when Scarlett admits to Rhett she has loved and depended on him all along but never realised it.  The film closely follows the dialogue in the novel but neglects to give voice to Scarlett’s thoughts:

“She was thinking: ‘But Rhett is my soul and I’m losing him.  And if I lose him, nothing else matters!  No, not friends or money or – or anything.  If only I had him I wouldn’t even mind being poor again.  No, I wouldn’t mind being cold again or even hungry’”     (Mitchell, 1019).

Had the film included this contradicting cry of woe, viewers who did not read the novel would have believed Scarlett’s confession.  This statement is completely contrary to her character who vowed to “steal or kill” to avoid living through hunger and poverty (Mitchell, 421).  The use of close-up simply does not convey this message.  Vivien Leigh brilliantly portrays a woman who just lost her best friend, daughter, and husband in a short period of time, but the same sympathy the reader would have felt does not translate completely to the film.  Film is effective in showing the viewers the woe in Scarlett’s face, but the camera cannot transcend flesh and reveal the pain in her heart.

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