The Last Picture Show

When I was growing up we never called going to see a film, “Going to the movies” which would have been a very American expression then although it is what I say nowadays. “Going to the cinema” seemed to have a particular British ring to it. Films and “going to the pictures or the flics” was our terminology growing up in 1950s New Zealand.

Most Saturday afternoons my brother and I would be given a shilling, (ten cents) or perhaps one (shilling) and three, (about fifteen cents), to “go the pictures”. We would walk over to the Southern Cross theatre in the local township, to watch whatever was showing on a Saturday afternoon at 2 o'clock. Although my mother, unlike other women in her generation, did have a car, we were rarely driven or collected afterwards. My parents must have welcomed the respite from two boisterous children who, if they weren't collaborating to build a hut in the backyard or start their own handwritten newspaper, were always fighting.

We used to queue up dutifully at the ticket box to buy our tickets and lollies (candy). There were always the rough boys in the front of the queue, who weren't necessarily bad at all, just unruly.   We were well behaved children who lived in fear of someone telling our parents if we were seen to misbehave while out. I don't think we were ever told this, it was just implicit in how we were brought up then. When I met my future husband in my mid teens, I found out that he was one of the “rough” boys in the front of the queue!

In those days, we stood for the anthem which was not New Zealand's national anthem but “God Save the Queen” which preceded every film showing. Then there was the Movietone news reel and I remember the opening title had a fighter plane flying overhead. I recall now somewhere in the opening titles there was a shot of Kookaburras with the sound of their unique laugh so possibly these news reels originated in Australia. However I can still hear the rousing music of the introduction in my head and the dramatic urgency in the clipped, distinctly British tones of the commentator.

The floor of the huge theatre was wooden and sloping towards the stage and this offered a wonderful opportunity to roll *Jaffas which were a noisy distraction. Of course if we made too much noise an usher would shine his or her torch on you and tell you to be quiet.   We did what we were told, we didn't question or give a rude sign in return. As the festoons of the velvet theatre curtains rose I used to speculate how many dresses the voluminous fabric would make for a distant aunt, who was a rather large lady. Why I did this, I will never know.

What I enjoyed mostly were the serials. Always shot in black and white we watched “Deadwood Dick”, “The Lone Ranger” and my absolute favourite “Zorro”, which established early on my connection to my inner Latina. I so wanted to be one of those exotic Mexican women of fire and smouldering beauty, with luxurious Rita Hayworth hair and an off-shoulder peasant blouse who had been “done wrong” but drawn against her will to the handsome hero brandishing a pair of six-guns.

I don't actually recall the main features but these generally were war films set in the Pacific, pirate adventures or westerns where the Indians were always the baddies. I was fond of actors like Richard Wydmark, Gary Cooper and John Wayne. Sometimes my brother and I ventured further to the Victory Cinema where a McDonalds stands now. You could get in there for ninepence which left you with six pence for goodies. The ninepenny seats though were up front close to the screen and again the rougher kids used to sit there. The Victory was such a big theatre that it even had a balcony.  At half time, (yes there were intervals), we would cross the road, to the an ice cream factory and buy an ice cream there. If you were prepared to sit in the cheaper seats and be associated with what I perceived as the riff raff, this gave you threepence more so you could have both lollies and an ice cream!

My brother and I took our time walking home. Sometimes we'd stop in a nearby park to play on the swings and slidesr. By the time we got home it was time to wash our hands for what we called tea in those days that was served right on five o'clock.

*A small round orange-coated chocolate sweet.