The writer of "The Ideal Film Plot," which appeared in a recent issue of
_Punch_, has quoted an "authority" (anonymous) for the approval of his
scenario. It is quite evident that this "authority" (so-styled) must
belong to the plebeian ranks of the film-world. It cannot reside in
_our_ suburb.
Our cinema theatre is, I venture to state, of a far superior order, both
as to drama and as to morality. It is not a mere lantern-hall, close and
stuffy, with twopenny and fourpenny seats (half-price to children, and
tea provided free at _matinee_ performances), but a white-and-gold
Picturedrome, catering to an exclusive class of patrons at sixpence and
a shilling, with neat attendants in dove-grey who atomise scent about
the aisles, two palms, one at each side of the proscenium (_real_
palms), and, in addition to a piano, a mustel organ to accompany the
pathetic passages in the films. Moreover, the commissionaire outside,
whose medals prove that he has seen service in the Charge of the Light
Brigade, the Black Hole of Calcutta, and the Great Raid on the House of
Commons in 1910, is not one of those blatant-voiced showmen who clamour
for patronage; he is a quiet and dignified receptionnaire, content to
rely on the fame and good repute of his theatre. Sometimes evening dress
(from "The Laburnums," Meadowsweet Avenue, who are on the Stock
Exchange) is to be seen in the more expensive seats.
It is unquestionably a high-class Picturedrome. True that the local
dentist, who is a stickler for correct English, protests against the
designation. I have pointed out to him that if a "Hippodrome" is a place
where one sees performing hippos, then surely a place where one sees
performing pictures is correctly styled a "Picturedrome."