“We sell tickets to theatres, not movies,” asserted cinema-mogul Marcus Loew a century
ago. The Roaring 20s encapsulated film, music, and art in the era's mania-fueled excess. Accompanying accelerated development of the movie industry included feverish transformation of traditional theatres into labyrinthine palaces. Americans sought glamour, movies reflected the lifestyle, and egalitarian hearts were ardently captured—the temple of the cinema was born. In my ongoing visits to historic picture-palaces across America, I've discovered shifting consumption of the period reflected broader decorative expression among these fantastical spaces.
As the post-war boom, Jazz Age, Prohibition, and the Depression introduced paradigm shifts, an evolving zeitgeist eschewed classic ornamentation in the spirit of fresh gimmicks and machine-age innovation. To appeal to broader audiences seeking fashionable experiences at minimal cost of entry, aesthetic interpretations expanded. Designers embellished with open-sky illusions, modern lounges, crystal fountains, novel lighting schemes, sound-proof children's playrooms, primitive air-conditioning, and towering crystal fountains, among sundry enhancements.
Long before television, these well-attended ingenious interiors were the highlight of people's week where denizens escaped to socialize and be seen. Redolent of silk damask and poly-chrome plaster combined with electric neon and brilliant cool metal, my senses muse into pure perception as living layers of time weigh defiantly upon this extant architectural grandeur. As economic disparities and excesses inexorably permeate contemporary generations, I ponder the nostalgic relevance of flamboyant artistry and ornamental decadence patrons once sought. These photographs contrast an array of Old World-themed theatre interiors with then-modernistic counterparts of revelry and machine-age prosperity.
