Monarch Theatre Interior: Projection Room

As I made my way from the theatre, I was excited by the opportunity to finally get a look inside of the Monarch Theatre's projection room.  In the midst of their Digital or Die campaign, the Monarch is working to raise the $100,000 required to get the digital projector they need to stay open and screen the latest movies.  It won't be long until projection rooms just like this one truly become a thing of the past.

I personally had several film school flashbacks as I explored the upper level of the Monarch.  The old reels, the strands of film, and even a poster from the Medicine Hat Film Festival were all pleasant reminders of my time in uni.  The projector and surrounding equipment was beautiful, only made more so when considering how many films must have passed through here.  What can I say? I was easily charmed by this place and the idea of over a century of films being projected to countless audiences from this little room.   

Downstairs in the walkway between the theatre and lobby sits the Monarch's original projector.  It's another reminder that the theatre has changed many times over the decades.  In general, the departure from film projectors certainly marks the end of an era, but for this little movie theatre in Medicine Hat, a digital projector will no doubt solidify all of the hard work that's gone into bringing this place back from closure.  The fundraising isn't over, but I feel confident that the Monarch Theatre will continue to be a great place to catch a flick for many years ahead.

Spliced: Charlie Chaplin

The following comes from my column, Spliced from Volume 47 - Issue 23 of the Carillon (the University of Regina newspaper) from April 2005.

In film history, or just entertainment in general, there are few artists or projects that are able to bridge generations and that warrant a position in the collective consciousness of a society made up of people that can barely remember the name of a movie they saw a few weeks ago.  

With this in mind, I’d like to shed some light on a figure who acted, directed, wrote, produced, and composed the score for many of his films.  A character who you've no doubt seen mimicked, and a man who even if you've never seen one of his films, you’d likely recognize from a picture of early Hollywood big wigs.  Of course I'm speaking of, Charles Chaplin.

Born in London, England on April 16, 1889 Charlie faced extreme poverty, only made worse by his father‘s early death and his sickly mother.  By the age of 21 he became part of a travelling music-hall company and found himself in the United States where he was well-received by audiences. 

Charlie’s ambition and resounding talent led him to a film contract in 1913 with the Keystone Film Company for $150 per week. 

In 1914 Chaplin made over 30 short films, and by the end of that year had signed a new contract for $1250 per week.  Needless to say, audiences loved Chaplin, especially his cane twirling, bowler hat wearing, little tramp character who would later skyrocket Chaplin‘s name and career internationally. 

On a side note, one German dictator was such a fan of the tramp character that he actually styled his moustache after Chaplin’s.  True story.

What I’ve always found fascinating about Charlie Chaplin is that his own rags to riches lifestyle was made possible by a poverty stricken character, who aside from making people laugh, shed light on social issues such as homelessness and unemployment.  This was something Chaplin took great pride in throughout his life having faced these issues head on.

Chaplin, who began feeling restricted by the studio system, gained independence in 1917 when he teamed with Mary Pickford, Douglas Fairbanks, and D.W. Griffith in forming the United Artists Corporation.  Artist’s under the label essentially became their own bosses, and when your career can’t go any higher, that’s a big deal.

As for Chaplin‘s brilliant films, if you‘re not familiar with his work, I recommend Gold Rush (1925), City Lights (1931) or Modern Times (1936) to get you started.  Each one of these films is a shining example of Chaplin’s spot-on routines and the tramp’s infectious lovability that extends from situations he mistakenly becomes involved in.

Modern Times is my favourite film of Chaplin’s.  Some may remember a scene where Charlie slides through the cogs and gears of a factory, or his repetitious fidgeting caused from screwing in bolts on an assembly line, or his hilarious mishaps with an automatic eating machine used to save time on lunch breaks.  I’m laughing as I write it because it really is that funny.

Charlie Chaplin’s significance and staying power is no accident, and you’ll understand why when you watch any of his films.  For the record, all of his major works are out on re-mastered DVDs so there’s no excuse.  I guarantee laughs will be had. 

Beveridge Block Interior: Part 1

After my article went out in the local newspaper, I was happy to hear back from a realtor who had keys to the Beveridge Block and was willing to get me inside.  This was a location I'd wanted to get into for months, especially since photographing the exterior at the end of last year.  I remember the building being the Salvation Army thrift store when I was a kid, but the location originally housed Beveridge Furniture for decades after it was constructed in 1911. 

Walking into the building still makes a grand impression (get a load of what it looked like back when it opened in the archival picture above).  The space is amazing, and unlike a number of abandoned historic sites I've seen around Medicine Hat, much of the original details were still front and centre here.

The location today is in a rough state, but seems prepped for restoration.  The original tin ceilings are stunning, and are still in remarkably good shape.  Much of the woodwork has also been stripped of the layers of old paint, and the interior looks better for it.  All around the main floor vintage movie posters were strung up, and while I'm not sure if this was for the city art walk or if it was something the owner did himself, it gave the location even more of a nostalgic vibe. 

The back half of the second floor was stripped back to the bones.  The third floor was equally sparse, but had the plaster ceiling intact.  In the back of the building there were also stacks of some of the original floor boards.  It's nice that someone had the foresight to recognize that someone might want to restore the place down the road.  I also found the old Noodle House neon sign in the back, which somehow ended up there after being removed from the business a few doors down.   

All in all, the Beveridge Block didn't disappoint.  I shot enough images to share them in two posts, and I think many of you will agree that this is a pretty amazing space worthy of saving.  Capturing it in its current state was something pretty special all the same.