No one celebrates the birthday of this phenomenon. Still, the fact is that movie multiplexes, in India, turned 14 this year. Although multiplexdom is a mixed blessing — ouch, those wallet burning ticket prices — it has to be admitted that the movies may not be getting any better but the auditoria are.
You’re handed complimentary cushions, the AC purrs, ticket blackmarketeering gangs have gone extinct, the projection and sound are near flawless, the rest rooms are clean (mostly). And a phalanx of ushers chimes ,“ Enjoy your film,” trained not to roll a tongue in cheek. And oh yes, the corn crackles, never mind the Rs 90 a pop.
The cineplex revolution was as inevitable as the new-fangled tachos, nachos, paneer wraps and paprika rolls at the soda fountain counters. After all, a plethora of 35 mm screens under the same roof started eons ago, with Canada’s Elgin Theatre, in Ontario, adding a baby cinema to its premises way back in 1947. The rash spread, booming with the 14-screen cineplex in California’s Beverly Centre in 1982. Formally, India hopped on to the multi-wagon with four screens at New Delhi’s PVR, Anupam, in 1997. Manoj Desai of Mumbai’s Gaiety-Galaxy-Gemini, there since the ‘70s, challenges the claim, but let’s leave them to slug that one out.
If you want clarity on what a multiplex is, it’s simply this: instead of a singular screen, a number of them operate simultaneously. Trivia buffs may note that the Kinepolis in Madrid, which razzmatazzed the world three years ago, is the largest megaplex anywhere, with 25 screens, comprising 9,200 seats. Scotland’s Cineworld in Glasgow, holds the distinction of the world’s “tallest” movie complex, with 19 screens, which can accommodate 4,300 viewers at any given point of time. Chennai’s 14-screens at Mayajaal are believed to be India’s largest movie space. Now, how’s that for entertainment, unlimited?
Every metropolis brags of its “plexes,” which are extending slowly but surely towards smaller towns, be it in Aurangabad, Lucknow, Kanpur, Amritsar, Pimpri and Panipat.
Ghaziabad, a traffic-clogged drive away from New Delhi, boasts of the nation’s highest number of plexes, which are just a breathing distance from one another. Although the boom is on, what with nearly 1,000 movie screens reeling away throughout India, it’s still two per cent of the total number of the nation’s film outlets.
The single screens or the good old theatres survive strictly on oxygen, toting diminishing ticket sales. By comparison, America has as many as 1,50, 000 plexes, operating in shopping malls, neighbourhoods close to college campuses; only a handful of the classics survive like Grauman’s Chinese Theatre in Los Angeles, its forecourt paved with foot and handprints of Hollywood legends.
So go the facts and the rapidly-altering statistics. Technologically, film viewing has become a clinical experience, at the cost of the traditional joy of moviegoing, and even décor and interiors. For instance, Mumbai’s magnificent Metro cinema was incomparable for its marble floors and staircase, art deco chandeliers and tall revolving seats at the snack bar which made you feel like John Wayne in one of those gritty westerns. Some sections of the original structure have been preserved. Gone with the wind are the wall frescoes of tales from the Ramayana, including a superb artwork depicting Luv and Kush on a hunt.
Moreover, since official tax discounts are offered to multiplex owners, the tendency has been to build now, repent later. Consequently, the leanly-patronised multiplexes are turning ratty. Incipient signs of these are fraying carpets, indifferent ushers and seats creaking away like doors of haunted houses. Check out any multiplex in town, and chances are that it isn’t as bright and wonderful as it during its initial years. Alas, maintenance has never been the forte of cinema owners.
In Maharashtra, it is stipulated that a multiplex must reserve space for an “art gallery.”
To adhere to the rules, random kitsch art is displayed at Mumbai’s plexes. No one stops to appreciate the canvases of blotchy sunsets and blotchier sunrises. Strange that an art connoisseur like Tina Ambani should permit the eyesores at Mumbai’s Metro Big Cinema over which she could exercise aesthetic control if she wanted to. Thoughtfully, she had introduced morning shows at special discounted rates for senior citizens there. The benefit to the audience of grandpas and grandmas, some arriving on wheelchairs, has been withdrawn. A pity.
At the Cinemax, polywool sheets are provided but are they laundered after every show? One multiplex publicised its brainwave of setting up a row or two of “love seats” where couples could canoodle without intervening arm-rests. These never materialised, the very idea was considered immoral.
Aah, but then that’s moviegoing. Half the fun is in getting there, how and with whom you watch a film. Films no longer run for 25 weeks because of the en masse release at the multiplexes. Let’s just hope 25-day jubiless aren’t celebrated the way things are going.
All said and seen that, there’s no point oozing nostalgia over the defunct Majestic, Swastik, Naaz, Diana and so so many more (only the names are different in different cities). When change, inflated ticket prices and super-costly intermission refreshments are inevitable, you might just as well like back and enjoy it. An absolutely baffling point: how anyone can pay Rs 350 for a ticket to Ra:One or Rockstar, and as much for Stanley ka Dabba or Mujhse Fraandship Karoge? Someone out there has to do a serious ticket rethink. Now.