In an age where we can stream thousands of movies directly onto our smartphones while lying in bed, it is hard for the younger generation to imagine a time when seeing a film was a formal, grand, and communal event. For those of us who grew up in the 50s and 60s, ‘going to the pictures’ wasn’t just about watching a story; it was a weekly highlight that required dressing up and a sense of wonder.

The experience began the moment you approached the theater. In those days, cinemas weren’t hidden inside giant shopping malls. They were majestic buildings on the high street, often with neon lights and grand marquees that announced the latest Hollywood stars. You didn’t just buy a ticket at a kiosk; you were greeted by staff in smart uniforms, and the lobby smelled of real buttered popcorn and floor wax.

Stepping into the auditorium felt like entering a palace. There were heavy red velvet curtains that hid the screen, intricate plasterwork on the ceilings, and plush seats that felt like a luxury. You didn’t just sit down and start watching; there was an anticipation in the air. Before the main feature, we were treated to newsreels, cartoons, and often a ‘B-movie.’ It was a full afternoon or evening of entertainment that made every penny of the ticket price feel worth it.

One of the most cherished memories for the +65 generation is the ‘intermission.’ Halfway through the film, the lights would dim slightly, the curtains would close, and an usherette would walk down the aisle with a tray strapped to her shoulders. This was the moment for a small tub of vanilla ice cream with a wooden spoon or a box of chocolates. It was a social break, a chance to whisper to your friend about what might happen next in the plot before the second half began.
The films themselves felt larger than life.

Without the distraction of glowing phone screens in the audience, everyone was completely immersed in the magic of the silver screen. We watched the greats—Cary Grant, Audrey Hepburn, or Elizabeth Taylor—and for two hours, we escaped our daily lives. There was a shared emotional connection in the room; when the audience laughed, they laughed together, and when a scene was sad, you could hear a hundred people holding their breath at once.

As technology advanced, the grand old cinemas were slowly replaced by modern multiplexes with better sound but less soul. The velvet curtains disappeared, and the personal touch of the ushers was lost to automation. While we appreciate the convenience of modern cinema, many of us still miss the elegance of the old days. We miss the feeling that a movie wasn’t just ‘content’ to be consumed, but a special occasion to be remembered.

Reflecting on these memories reminds us of the importance of shared experiences. In a world that is becoming increasingly isolated, looking back at the golden age of cinema teaches us the value of sitting together in the dark, watching a story unfold, and feeling part of something bigger than ourselves.”