Drive-Ins: Drama under the Stars
Created | Updated Jun 17, 2012
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Drive-Ins: Drama under the Stars
Last week, Google made a doodle to commemorate the 1933 opening of the first drive-in 'theater' (what US Americans call a cinema) in Pennsauken, New Jersey. Elektra was interested, since she and I know where Pennsauken is, and even how to spell it. It's a suburb of Philadelphia, and the name is probably Lenape for 'tobacco pouch', but that's according to Wikipedia, so caveat lector.
Anyhow, it occurred to me that drive-ins are the sort of phenomena that exist for many people as memes in fiction these days – you know they existed, but you've never seen one. Bel can attest to the drive-in experience, and has done so, eloquently. I grew up thinking drive-ins were normal: you see, I could see one from my house.
From the time I was six until I was eleven, we lived in a new housing area on the edge of Memphis. (It's not on the edge anymore, blame urban sprawl.) The roads ran straight as a die, and the landscape was flat as a pancake. Our little street ended where it met a side road that ran over to Summer Avenue, home of 1950s innovations such as the Holiday Inn, the first McDonalds in the area, etc. Back of Summer Avenue, directly across from where our street met Bartlett Road, was an open field. And on that field was a drive-in cinema.
In summer, when it got dark, we kids would play in the front yard. We could see the flicker from the screen. We'd wonder what was showing. Sometimes, we got to find out – like, when the pregnant ladies showed up at our house.
A word of explanation: my mom was the Sunday School teacher for the Young Married Women. At one time, she and her entire class were enceinte at exactly the same time. This meant that Class Meetings held at our house involved, besides the usual chatter and fancy refreshments, a lot of crocheting and obstetric information exchange. In other words, the atmosphere was fraught. My dad was more than glad to accept escape from this potentially hostile environment by taking me and my sister to the drive-in.
I enjoyed these excursions, although I suspect my dad was having trouble staying awake, even through a war picture. He wasn't much on film, preferring news, weather, or political discussion, and he'd had a long day at work. But to me and my sister, the comfort and familiarity of the car, combined with the novelty of snacks and a story on the big screen, was an unbeatable combination (plus a night out with Dad). We enjoyed it hugely, even when the 'Coming Attractions' gave us nightmares.
I'm sure it wasn't intentional on the part of the drive-in people. They vetted trailers, even then. But they did show previews of films we would never have been permitted to see. After one such experience, I spent quite a while worrying about Jean Moreau, I think it was, and why anyone would shave her head. (I think it was called Five Branded Women, and dealt with the occupation of France, but don't quote me on that.) Movies in the 1950s could be gratuitously psychological. One advantage of sitting in the back of the car: if things got too spooky, you could duck behind the front seat, and the grown-ups wouldn't see you being a scaredy-cat.
Drive-ins could be true family outings. My mom came along when we all went to see The Ten Commandments. Imagine watching the Red Sea part from the rear seat of an automobile. You'd wonder why Moses didn't have a Chevy. Seriously, I was bored – the film went on way too long, there wasn't nearly enough of Edward G Robinson in it, and even then I thought Charlton Heston was an unconvincing Moses. (I wouldn't have followed him to the supermarket.) I also thought the special effects looked cheesy. I liked Yul Brynner, though. Viewing The Ten Commandments at the drive-in didn't really count as entertainment, anyway. It was more of a religious exercise, as it had been recommended from the pulpit on Sunday. No lie.
Oddly, since drive-ins were invented in Pennsylvania/South Jersey, we didn't go to any after we moved to Pittsburgh. It was all indoors, sometimes in those neat old cinemas that were vaudeville theatres once upon a time. I didn't get to experience cinema under the stars again until I met the Balkans.
In Romania and Greece, they're way ahead of this modern trend of 'do-it-yourself' drive-ins. On fine summer nights, vacant lots between buildings are used to show films. These aren't really drive-ins, because no cars are involved. They are walk-ins. You pay, get some snacks, walk in, and sit down on a folding chair. The film is projected against a building. It's warm, you're comfortable, and when you're bored with the on-screen action, you can tilt your head and star-gaze a bit.
Elektra and I watched the Woodstock movie at an outdoor cinema in Athens. The setting gave it a certain je ne sais quoi. Science fiction is fun that way, too.
According to the information provided courtesy of Google, drive-in cinemas declined due to urbanisation, the rising price of real estate, and limitations such as weather. A shame, really. Drive-ins had great charm.
I think one factor they neglected to mention in the decline of the drive-in is the advent of modern cars that can show movies inside. Sort of a 'drive and watch'. This makes me uneasy – drivers have enough distractions already – but I could think of a use for those onboard movie screens.
- Rent a film, perhaps Wife Beware, starring Adolphe Menjou, which according to Wikipedia was the first film shown in a drive-in. Or something more intellectual, say, with Jason Statham in.
- Drive to a nearby park.
- As soon as the sun goes down, start your movie.
- Pass the popcorn around.
Remember, kids, when the scary part comes, you can always hide behind the seat.
