Come with me. We're going to Siligone Valley.
When I was in high school, I met a guy named Walt Von Hofe. Walt worked for a company called Ls Strange and Associates. He, witnessing me hanging off of a light post in San Jose in front of The Flames, asked if I wanted to do some work for him, helping to do demographics captures. How could I not? I was 15. I loved movies passionately. I would go two times a week at least, usually more. So I started going to preview screenings and taking down attendance, breaking them into age groups, listening to their commentary. This is how I saw some of my favorite films. The Doors, that's the one that always sticks out to me, The Doors. A lot of Schwarzenegger pics, Terminator Two for example. It's how I saw Jurassic Park. At least one, probably two Batman films. Return to the Blue Lagoon. Between 1989 and 1993, I literally saw dozens, possibly hundreds, of these films at previews. They were great. Almost of all of them, at least two thirds, were done at the Century 22 in San Jose 'cause it was home. As a kid, it was not infrequent that my Dad would pack us into the car, me and my Mom, sometimes my uncle. We'd go to Bob's Big Boy. I'd have the Fisherman's Platter ... Still, if I had to choose my favorite meal on earth ... With a hot fudge cake for dessert. We'd walk across the parking lot to the Century 22 and see any number of films, the Goonies, Dune, I saw Dune there the first time. So many movies in this wonderful theater. The experience of the 22 was incredible. This giant three domed building. You go and you buy your ticket to one of two glass box offices that are angled but sort of facing one another. You walk through those front doors and in front of you, in the old days, pretty far back but later moved up, that was the concession stand. At that point when you were in the lobby, movie theater poster cases on either side, you were surrounded by the movies. There was a sense of the going to the movies. Since the 22 is really the highlight theater in all of San Jose, a lot of people would say 21, but I disagree. It was the 22. Because of the sense of not only bigness, but it encapsulated the experience. You had three theaters, which I believe is what's keeping it off of the local landmark status because it's been altered too much from its original single dome. But it defines the multiplex for me, not the megs, but the multiplex where you have two or three screens, each with its own dome. You would go into the big theater, in particular A House, and there was a sense of wonder not only at the space, this giant dome and these amphitheater seats. Terrible seats when I was a kid, I remember. The sound, once the movie started. When you sat down, there was a screen in front of you. It looked so different. It was like just a wall. This will sound strange 'cause it's this curved sort of screen in the day. Then the movie would start. The theater lights would go down, and they would start projecting, and you were captured. Particularly since I like to sit kind of close, it felt like you were surrounded by the film. I think when they took out these arced screen and put in a more or less flat one, it still had that sense that you were inside of movies. My big problem with multiplexes nowadays, or megaplexes or whatever you want to call them, is it always feels that there's a distance. That they come up with gimmicks to try and draw you in. Yes, the 22 originally was a Cinerama screen. I think the 21 one. I don't know if the 22 was, but ... That was a gimmick too. IMAX and dome screenings and so forth, that's the attempt to bring you in. But this did it. For 50 years, the 22 drew you in. It provided an emotional experience ... Maybe it's not even emotional. Maybe it's just visceral experience ... to go along with whatever the film was bringing to you. What happens when you're in an experience like that, when the movie is over, when you go out particularly into the bright daylight ... But when you leave that theater, you are leaving a world that you have dove into. Some of the films that were there for the longest time, I can never experience in any other way and have it feel anywhere near as satisfying. The way you can tell is when it's over and you leave. You go somewhere else. When you are immersed in the world of the Lion King. Then you go back out to the bright sunlight as I did many times. I was working there at that point. It doesn't feel the same. You have to readjust to the real world. From all the great films I saw there, to all the really terrible films I saw there, I never had a bad experience watching a movie there. The experience of the film was always amazing, was always immersive, was always important. At the megaplex today, it feels like a distance. That when you leave the theater, you're leaving having experienced a ... How do you experience it? Just having accepted a content. But here, at Century 22, you experience a deep dive into something else, somewhere else, and it meant the world to kids like me to have a place like that. The last night that the Century's were open, I was going through a tough time. It always happens. It was my own damn fault. I walked through the line taking pictures took them of the 21. I took a couple of the 22. There was a tremendous sadness, so sad. The reason for that is simple. I didn't know it at the time, but about a year later I did when I was holding my kids. I was sad that this wasn't for the fact that I couldn't go to Century's anymore and dive into that world. It was that my kids can't. It's that the kids who are in school today don't understand that feeling, the sensation. That still hurts. It really does. We are all as human beings tied to places. We associate feelings with buildings, with chairs, with the smells, with the tastes. Forever, forever for me, joy will taste like that Fisherman's Platter, and wonder will smell like popcorn wafting into the theater.
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Chris GarciaCurator at the Computer History Museum, Born and Raised in Santa Clara, and a Massive History Geek! Archives
February 2019
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