by F.T. Rea
Over 200 Titles in Year No. 1
In early July of 1971, on what I remember as a bright morning, I went to a construction site on the north
side of the 800 block of West Grace Street. At that time, the site was mostly just a big hole in
the orange dirt between two old brick houses.
A friend had tipped me
off that she’d been told the owners of the movie house set to rise from
that red dirt were looking for a manager who knew something about movies and
could write about them. She also said they were hoping to hire a local
guy. Chasing
the sparkle of that opportunity I met David Levy at the construction
site.
Levy was the Harvard-trained attorney who managed the Biograph
Theatre at 2819 "M" Street in Washington. D.C. He was
one of a group of five men who, in 1967, had opened Georgetown’s Biograph in a building that had housed a car dealership.
Although no one in the group had
any experience in show biz, they were hip young movie lovers whose
timing had been impeccable. They caught a pop culture wave. The golden
age of repertory cinema was happening and those original partners were
living in what was the perfect town for their venture; it wasn't the
first repertory/art house cinema in that town and right away the
Biograph Theatre in D.C. did well at the box office.
With
their continued success on "M" Street to encourage them, a few years later the same
five, plus one, were looking to expand.
In Richmond’s Fan District they thought they had discovered just the
right neighborhood for a second repertory-style cinema using
a split weeks and double features style of programming. In this sort of calendar house
programming one usually adheres to a published schedule. So, if a movie
draws well, instead of holding it over you simply bring it back soon.
Although
the ambitious partners really didn't know much about Richmond, the six partners knew
Virginia Commonwealth University had a big art school.
A
pair of local players, energy magnate Morgan Massey and real estate
deal-maker Graham “Squirrel” Pembroke, acquired the land. They agreed to
build a cinder block building to house a single-auditorium cinema just a
stone’s throw from VCU’s academic
campus for the entrepreneurs from D.C. to rent. The "boys in D.C." had
to pay for the projection booth equipment, the turnstile (we used
tokens, rather than tickets) and the seats, some 515 of them.
At the
time I met Levy I was working for a radio station, WRNL, so I gave him tapes of
some humorous radio commercials I had made for what had been successful
promotions. About 10 weeks
after that first meeting with Levy, after a few subsequent meetings, I was offered the manager’s position
for the new Biograph, still under construction.
Can't recall all that much about
that day, except I was told I had beaten out a lot of competition.
Oddly, what
I do remember clearly is a brief flash of me sitting in my living room with Levy and Alan Rubin (also a partner),
trying to be nonchalant, so as to not to reveal how thrilled I was
at getting that offer. At
23-years-old, I could hardly have imagined a better job for me existed, at
least not in the Fan District.
This opportunity came to me three
years after Richmond Professional Institute and the Medical College of
Virginia merged to become VCU in 1968. In the fall of 1971 there weren't
many signs of the dramatic impact the new university would
come to have on Richmond.
Although a couple of film societies were
thriving on
VCU's campus in those days, other than local film critic Carole Kass' History
of Motion Pictures class, the school itself was offering little in the
way of classes
about cinema history or filmmaking.
There were a few VCU
professors
who occasionally showed artsy
short films in their classes. Mostly, independent and
foreign features didn’t come to Richmond. So, in 1971, the talk about the
Biograph Theatre being built on Grace Street was great news to local film buffs.
Generally, it was seen as a good sign the neighborhood's nightlife
scene was becoming more cosmopolitan.
Levy and I got along
well right away. We became friends who trusted one another. He and
his partners were all about 10 years my senior.
My
manager’s job lasted until the summer of 1983 when I resigned. Four
yeayears. rs later, owing
to unpaid rent, the Biograph
Theatre's building was seized by Pembroke. It remained locked up and
dark for years. The building's story after its Biograph times is for
someone else to tell. A hundred miles to the north, the
Biograph on M Street closed in 1996. David Levy died in 2004. Lenny
Poryles, a second of those original Georgetown-based bosses, died in
2018.
Most recently there was a noodles eatery in the building that once
housed the
precious repertory cinema I managed for 139 months. That restaurant
folded and apparently no enterprise is currently underway at that
address. For what it's worth, now the former Biograph is oldest building
on the 800 block of West Grace Street.
*
On Friday, February 11, 1972, the Biograph adventure got off the ground
that night with
a gem of a party. I learned something about the theater magic that day,
when I saw the unfinished business that was all over the lobby that
afternoon, evolve into a well-run event that evening. In the lobby the
dry champagne flowed steadily, as the
tuxedo-wearers and colorfully outfitted hippies mingled smoothly.
A trendy art show was hanging on the walls. The local press was all over what was seen as an important event for that bohemian commercial strip. The feature we presented to over 300 invited guests was a delightful French war-mocking comedy — “King of Hearts” (1966); Genevieve Bujold was dazzling opposite the droll Alan Bates. The six owners were there for the first-ever Biograph party in Richmond. That was the only occasion they were all there at the same time.
Following splashy
news stories about the party trumpeting the Biograph's arrival, the next night we
opened for business with a cool double feature: “King of Hearts“ was paired
with “A Thousand Clowns“ (1965). Every show sold out.
Other
than the projectionist, Howard Powers -- who was supplied by the
local operators union -- I had hired the theater's opening night's
staff: The cashiers were Cathy Chapman and Susan Eskey. The ushers were
Bernie Hall
and Chuck Wrenn. A few weeks later Chuck was promoted to assistant
manager and Susan Kuney was hired as a third cashier.
The
Biograph’s printed schedule, Program No. 1, was heavy on documentaries.
It featured the work of Emile de Antonio and D.A. Pennebaker, among
others. Also on that program, which had no particular theme, were
several titles by popular European directors, including Michaelangelo
Antonioni, Costa-Gavras, Federico Fellini, and Roman Polanski.
Like
the first one, which offered mostly double features, each of the next
several programs covered about six weeks. At this point Alan Rubin, one of the partners who
worked in the Georgetown office, did the mechanical art for those
programs, just as he had been doing for the D.C. Biograph. In the initial
months Levy and Rubin made most of the programming decisions, with me,
of course, throwing in my two-cents worth. In the years to come my duties expanded.
In reading everything I could
find about which movies were well-respected and popular in art houses, especially in New York
and San Francisco, it was easy to gather that the
in-crowd viewed most of Hollywood’s then-current product as either
laughingly naive or hopelessly corrupted by the system. As it was, the fashion of the day elevated certain
foreign movies, selected American classics, a few films from the
underground scene, etc., to a level above most of their more accessible
Hollywood counterparts.
In 1972 perhaps the most admired group of foreign
films were those considered to be part of the French New Wave, which
began as the '50s ended, with the early features made by Louis
Malle, François Truffaut and Jean-Luc Godard. What my first year on the job eventually taught me was how few people in Richmond
really cared all that much about seeing such films.
After the opening flurry of interest
in the new movie theater, with long lines to nearly every show, it was
surprising to me when the crowds shrank dramatically in the months that
followed. Among the things that disappointment showed me was how
important the publicity running up to the Biograph's opening had been.
As VCU students had been a substantial
portion of the theater’s initial crowd the slump was chalked off to warm
weather, exams and then summer vacation. In that context the first
summer of operation was opened to experimentation aimed at drawing
more customers from beyond the immediate neighborhood. That
gave me an opportunity to do more with a project my bosses had put me in
charge of developing, Friday and Saturday
midnight shows -- using radio in particular to promote them.
By
trial and error I learned quickly that movies that lent themselves to
attention-getting promotion performed better at the box office. Early midnight show successes were “Night of the Living
Dead” (1968), “Yellow Submarine” (1968), “Mad Dogs and Englishmen”
(1971), and an underground twin bill of “Chafed Elbows” (1967) and
“Scorpio Rising” (1964). Most of the failures have been forgotten.
With
significant input from
Chuck, the theater’s assistant manager, quirky
non-traditional ad campaigns were designed in-house. We learned
there were
two essential elements to midnight show promotions: 1. Wacky radio spots
had to be created and run on WGOE, a popular AM station aimed directly
at the hippie listening audience. 2.
I made distinctive handbills that were posted on utility poles,
bulletin
boards and in shop windows in high-traffic locations. A sense of humor in promoting helped.
Dave
DeWitt produced the radio commercials. We happily shared the
copy-writing chore. In his studio, Dave and I
frequently collaborated on the making of those spots. We agreed that an ample
supply of cold Pabst Blue Ribbons and whatnot also helped. Most of the time we went
for levity, cheap
laughs were all the budget could handle. Dave had a classic announcer's baritone voice and he was quite masterful
at physically crafting radio commercials. He was even more of a nitpicker for
perfection than I was, so we made a good team. I learned a lot from this time.
*
Yes, I was warned that taking sides in politics was dead wrong for a show business entity in Richmond. Taking the liberal side only made it worse. But the two most active partners who were my bosses, Levy and Rubin, who was a geologist turned artist, were delighted with the notion of doing the benefit. They were used to doing much the same up there. So with the full backing of the boys in D.C. I never hesitated to reveal my left-leaning stances on anything political.
Also in September “Performance” (1970), a somewhat overwrought but well-crafted musical melodrama -- starring Mick Jagger -- packed the house at midnight three weekends in a row. Then a campy, docu-drama called “Reefer Madness” (1936) sold out four consecutive weekends.
The midnight shows were going over like gangbusters. To follow “Reefer Madness” what was then a little-known X-rated comedy, “Deep Throat” (1972), was booked as a midnight show. By then the Georgetown Biograph was experimenting with playing naughty midnight shows. In Richmond, we had played a handful of films that had earned an X-rating, they had been more artsy than they were vulgar. This was our first step across the line to hardcore porn.
As “Deep Throat” ran only an hour, master prankster Luis Buñuel’s surrealistic classic short film (16 minutes), “Un Chien Andalou” (1929), was added to the bill, just for grins. It should be noted that like "Deep Throat," Buñuel’s first film, was also called totally obscene in its day. Still, this may have been the only time that particular pair of outlaw flicks ever shared a billing ... anywhere.
A few weeks after “Deep Throat” began playing in Richmond, a judge in Manhattan ruled it was obscene. Suddenly the national media became fascinated with it. The star of "Deep Throat," Linda Lovelace, appeared on network TV talk shows. Watching Johnny Carson pussyfoot around the premise of her celebrated “talent” made for some giggly moments.
Eventually, to be sure of getting in to see this midnight show, patrons began showing up as much as an hour before show time. Standing in line on the brick sidewalk for the spicy midnight show frequently turned into a party. There were nights the line resembled a tailgating scene at a pro football game. A determined band of Jesus Freaks took to standing across the street to issue bullhorn-amplified warnings of hellfire to the patrons waiting in the midnight show line that stretched west on Grace Street. It only added to the scene.
Playing for 17 consecutive weekends, at midnight only, “Deep Throat” grossed over $30,000. That was more dough than the entire production budget of what was America’s first skin-flick blockbuster.
The midnight show’s grosses conveniently made up for the disappointing performance of an eight-week program of venerable European classics at regular hours. It included ten titles by the celebrated Swedish director, Ingmar Bergman. The same package of art house workhorses played extremely well up in Georgetown, underlining what was becoming a painfully underestimated contrast in the two markets.
On the theater's first anniversary I made a list of all the titles we had presented. A few noteworthy shorts films were on the list, such as Chris Marker's "La Jetée" (1962), but I omitted most shorts. The list, which I had printed as a flyer to hand out, was over 200 titles long.
In 52 weeks, to establish what we were, the Biograph had presented over 200 different films, some in a couple of runs. Split weeks with doubles features, plus midnight shows, chewed up a lot of product. By the end of the first year Levy, Rubin and I knew we needed to make some changes in our programming.
The Fan District was not becoming Georgetown and in spite of what some folks were predicting, maybe it never would. To be successful in Richmond we realized we had to do more to cultivate the audience here to appreciate the sort of films we loved and most wanted to present. And, in the meantime, we had to figure out how to avoid losing money.
To start, maybe fewer old Bergman flicks.
Here's a small sample of that first year's avalanche of sweet double features. In this case I chose to put 12 double features on the list, because that's typically what was on one of the Biograph's calendar style programs.
Feb. 12-14, 1972:
“King of Hearts” (1966): Color. Directed by Philippe de Broca. Cast: Alan Bates, Geneviève Bujold, Pierre Brasseur. Note: The first movie to play at the Biograph was a zany French comedy, set amid the harsh but crazy realities of too much World War I.
“A Thousand Clowns” (1965): B&W. Directed by Fred Coe. Cast: Jason Robards, Barbara Harris, Martin Balsam. Note: A social worker investigates the rules-bending circumstances in which a boy lives with his iconoclastic uncle, an unemployed writer.
Feb. 21-23, 1972:
“Z” (1969): Color. Directed by Costa-Gavras. Cast: Yves Montand, Jean-Louis Trintignant, Irene Papas. Note: A political assassination’s cover-up in Greece spawns a compelling based-on-truth whodunit, with sudden plot twists, all told at a furious pace.
"The Battle of Algiers" (1966): B&W. Directed by Gillo Pontecorvo. Note: This account of the cruel tactics employed by both warring sides during the Algerian revolution is part documentary, part staged suspenseful recreation. Unforgettable.
Mar. 17-20, 1972:
“Gimme Shelter” (1970): Color. Directed by Albert Maysles and David Maysles. Performers: The Rolling Stones, the Jefferson Airplane, the Grateful Dead, Tina Turner and more. Note: A documentary with much concert footage and one murder.
“T.A.M.I. Show” (1964): B&W. Directed by Steve Binder. Performers: the Rolling Stones, the Beach Boys, the Supremes, James Brown, Marvin Gaye, Smokey Robinson and the Miracles, Lesley Gore and more appear in concert footage.
Apr. 12-13, 1972:
"Bell Du Jour" (1967): Color. Director: Luis Buñuel. Cast: Catherine Deneuve, Jean Sorel, Michel Piccoli. Note: Beautiful Severine loves her successful husband. With him she’s frigid. Her kinky fantasies lead her to the oldest profession … only by day.
"A Man and a Woman" (1966): Color. Director: Claude Lelouche. Cast: Anouk Aimée, Jean-Louis Trintignant. Note: A widower and a widow meet by chance at their childrens' boarding school. As they struggle to deal with their attraction to one another, neither has gotten over their loss.
“McCabe & Mrs. Miller” (1969): Color. Directed by Robert Altman. Cast: Warren Beatty, Julie Christie. Note: With Altman, the routine gambling, prostitution and power struggles in the Old West take on a different sort of look. More grit. Less glory. All random.
June 14-18, 1972:
“Putney Swope” (1969): Both B&W and color. Directed by Robert Downey Sr. Cast: Stan Gottlieb, Allen Garfield, Archie Russell. Note: This strange but hilarious send-up of Madison Avenue was Downey’s effort to crossover from underground to legit. Probably his most accessible work.
"Trash" (1970): Color. Director: Paul Morrissey. Cast: Joe Dallesandro, Holly Woodlawn. Note: It was billed as "Andy Warhol's Trash," as he was credited with being the producer of Morrissey's series of undergroundish films. This one reveals the down-and-out urban lifestyle of an oddball couple.
June 29-July 2, 1972:
"Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb" (1964): B&W. Directed by Stanley Kubrick. Cast: Peter Sellers, George C. Scott, Sterling Hayden, Slim Pickens. Note: This nuke-mocking black comedy raised eyebrows at the height of the Cold War. Still a laugh riot.
“M.A.S.H.” (1970): Color. Directed by Robert Altman. Cast: Donald Sutherland, Elliott Gould, Sally Kellerman. Note: This cynical comedy about doctoring too close to the pointless battles of the Korean War is much funnier than the long-running TV show that followed it.
Sept. 21-24, 1972:
"Citizen Kane" (1941): B&W. Directed by Orson Welles. Cast: Orson Welles, Joseph Cotten, Dorothy Comingore. Note: The meaning of a powerful, lonely man’s last word enlarges into a mystery. Flashbacks reveal a large life driven by lusts and obsessions. As American as it gets.
"The Magnificent Ambersons" (1942): B&W. Directed by Orson Welles. Cast: Tim Holt, Joseph Cotten, Dolores Costello, Anne Baxter. Note. This truncated-by-the studio version of what the indulgent director intended follows the meandering story of a prominent family's fortunes.
Oct. 9-11, 1972:
“The Third Man” (1949): B&W. Directed by Carol Reed. Cast: Joseph Cotten, Orson Welles, Alida Valli. Note: This elegant film noir mystery, set in crumbling post-war Vienna, is pleasing to the eye and stylishly cynical. Hey, no heroes here, but great music.
"Breathless" (1960): B&W. Directed by Jean-Luc Godard. Cast: Jean-Paul Belmondo, Jean Seberg. Note: An opportunistic thief on the lam becomes irresistible to a pretty American journalism student in Paris. Uh-oh, the guy is dangerous. How long can living in the moment last?
Nov. 17-19, 1972:
“Duck Soup” (1933): B&W. Directed by Leo McCarey. Cast: The Four Marx Brothers (Groucho, Harpo, Chico and Zeppo), Margaret Dumont. Note: With Rufus T. Firefly as dictator of Freedonia and flush from a fat loan from Mrs. Teasdale, what could hilariously go wrong? How about war?
"Horse Feathers" (1932): B&W. Directed by Norman McLeod. Cast: The Four Marx Brothers, Thelma Todd. Note: The Biograph's secret password that opened doors was "swordfish." The scene that spawned that tradition is in this gag-filled send-up of on-campus life and football.
Dec. 7-10, 1972:
“The Producers” (1968): Color. Directed by Mel Brooks. Cast: Zero Mostel, Gene Wilder, Kenneth Mars, Dick Shawn. Note: Brooks’ first feature film laughed at Nazis with what was a fresh audacity. Mostel and Wilder are so funny it ought to be illegal.
“The Graduate (1967): Color. Directed by Mike Nichols. Cast: Anne Bancroft, Dustin Hoffman, Katherine Ross. Note: The mores of upper middle class life in the '60s are laid bare, as a recent college graduate's idleness leads to an affair with the beautiful, but wrong older woman.
Jan. 25-28, 1973:
"The Conformist" (1971): Color. Directed by Bernardo Bertolucci. Cast: Jean-Louis Trintignant, Stefania Sandrelli, Gastone Moschin. Note: A visually stunning look at fascist Italy, with Mussolini in power and old class distinctions melting away. Betrayal is in the air.
“The Garden of the Finzi-Continis” (1971): Color. Directed by Vittorio De Sica. Cast: Dominique Sanda, Lino Capolicchio, Fabio Testi. Note: With WWII approaching, why did wealthy, well educated Jews stay too long in Germany and Italy? This film provides some answers.
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