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| Egg roll. I took this pic at a Zeeshan outlet. |
This is an ode to the movie theatres of Calcutta that filled my life with many magical moments. Most of which unfortunately do not exist any more.
You can have it in any colour as long as it is black
“Remember how we had to buy tickets in black? The black marketers would buy all the tickets of a show and stand furtively in a corner and say ticket ticket,” said our friend and neighbour Erika while telling her Gen Zee daughter, Gia, about going to the movies ‘in our time.’ The mid-80s to the late 1990s.
“Of course I do,” I replied. “They would go around Gaiety Galaxy saying pachas ka sau, bees ka pachas.”
Hundred for fifty. Fifty for twenty.
“And much earlier when I was in school in Kolkata it would be ek taka noboi teen taka, dui shottor paach taka.”
Three Rupees for one Rupee ninety paisa, five Rupees for two Rupees seventy.
We could not dream of buying tickets back then without buying them on ‘black’. I remember once going to watch an English film in the local theatre. Unlike in a Bachchan, Mithunda or Anil Kapoor flick, there was no House Full board. I saw some of the black marketers sitting on the steps by the cash counter. I went up to them and said, “ticket hobe?”
Can I get a ticket?
They looked at me incredulously before one of them got up, went to the cash counter, bought a ticket and sold it to me to at a markup. I went into the theatre, clutching my ticket in sweaty and nervous hands and watched the movie (possibly a Police Academy franchise) with some men snoring around me and some couples sitting at the back row who, for some reason, were not interested in the movie. I did not know much about the birds and bees then. I told my friends about what had happened when I went to school the next day. That’s when I learnt an important life lesson. You don’t have to always buy movie tickets in black. Incidentally, touts were such a big part of the Indian movie-watching experiences that there were movies where the hero, playing a character from the slums, would be shown selling tickets in black!
Amitabh Bachchan’s Shahenshah released soon after. I went three days in advance, once booking opened, to buy tickets. The crowd was quite unruly and I was pushed around. The police kept an eye out for touts. And at some point a mild lathi charge happened!
A far cry, we Gen Ys explained to the GenZ in the room, than today when you go to a booking site, decide on the show you want to go to, the number of tickets you want to buy, with price clearly stated right up to taxes and even choose which seat you want.
“In our time there was no choosing of seats. We accepted whatever was issued. The only time we got to choose in Kolkata was when we were in college in the mid-90s. We would go the theatres such as New Empire, Globe or Lighthouse which showed English films, bought box tickets which were the most expensive (Rs 50 for two) of tickets and tried to get back row corner seats.” I chose not to elaborate further.
Hungry for cinema
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| The Ken |
It is sort of funny that a few days after this conversation, I came across a very interesting infographic shared in a hospitality professionals’ WhatsApp group that I am a part of. This is from the Ken and gave the revenues of the top 5 fast food companies in India. Pushing its way into a list featuring top 5 international fast food chains was PVR+Inox movie theatres at number 4. The only private level in the list and one with distribution limited to movie theatres.
A telling statement on the phenomenon of eating out while watching movies in modern multiplexes. It started out with supersized popcorn tubs and aerated drink cups. Stuff which would break your budget and hike up your HB1C scores. Often the money spent on food was more than that spent on movie tickets. Movie outings became increasingly less of a family bonding occasion than it once was. This was just the beginning, and with theatres getting into gourmet food options, often in collab with celebrity chefs, it is no wonder that food revenues are going up.
Don’t worry. This is not an analysis of the Indian multiplex F&B industry. Most of what I have written about is what in my ad agency days was referred to by seniors as BGO. Blinding Glimpses of the Obvious.
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| Chops, I took this pic at Nahoum |
What I wanted to write about was the movie theatre experience of my growing-up days in Kolkata and the role food played in it. The suburban movie theatres in particular, which showed Hindi and Bengali films. Oh, let me add that there were no multiplexes in my time. Those are what you would call single-screen theatres. The term did not exist then. There was no alternative to this then. The theatres in the suburbs were not airconditioned. I think smoking was not allowed by the time I was old enough to go to the theatre. You would walk out drenched in sweat after watching Amitabh Bachchan (reruns of his old films), Mithun Chakraborty, Anil Kapoor, Jackie Shroff and Sanjay Dutt romance their heroines in the first half and beat up the baddies in the second half over a three-hour show.
There would be a ten minute interval back then. Not like in the multiplexes of today where the interval is almost as long as the movie, thereby allowing you to window shop across the food stalls, place your food order without being hurried and then have your food delivered to your seat.
In the ten minutes one got then, one would have to use the restroom (which stank and you would want to hurry in it), buy your snack, eat and get back to your seat. For those who smoked, which was almost everyone in Calcutta (I didn’t), there was the added stress of needing to take a puff before going back
You would know its interval a few seconds before the words interval/ intermission came on the screen. The harbinger of which would be a sound which went triing triing, followed by cries of ‘cold dinks, cold dinks (sic)’. The sound was that of the bottle opener struck against aerated bottle caps. This was the only item sold inside the theatre. The curtains would come down a few seconds later.
Then began the mad rush to go outside. The Bond-like adventure to pee, buy your snack and run back to the auditorium. The show would have resumed by then. The hall would be dark and you would literally have to grope your way to find your seat. Trying to ignore the irritated noises of those whose feet you trampled on the way. Once you settled down, you would ask your neighbour about what you missed
What were the food options? There would be a canteen run by the owners which was inside the theatre. On offer were chips, popcorn and cashews in ascending order of price, cold drinks and frothy coffee from expresso machines. Not to be confused with the espresso of today.
There was an open enclosure outside the theatre where a few stalls would spring up selling Kolkata street food favourites such as rolls, chops, chow, patties and jhal muri. These would be made in advance as you would have to make a dash to step out and buy what you wanted and dash back before the iron shutters of the theatre came down. Woe is me is all you could say if you were stuck outside after the shutters came down. Your only hope was to find a friend who had watched the movie to tell you what happened in the second half of the movie. Once you were out, there was no going back. Capish?
Rather different from your movie-watching experience of Gen Z. For us, the action happened both on the screen and outside of it. Try matching that!
I would to love to hear from fellow Gen Ys (70s and 80s born) about your movie-watching memories.
