Jack Black, with drunken bravado, stares out at the forgotten, fortified island looming up through the mist. He's searching for a relic from another age, a living fossil towering over the landscape, something from the past that's inexplicably locked in time. Just when he thinks the beast is extinct, a glimpse of the creature cuts through the darkness and my kids scream and spill all their popcorn on the back seat of "Petey," our PT Cruiser.
King Kong lives!
At one time, drive-in movie screens lit up Manitoba, but gradually their flickering glow has been extinguished
Just as the Odeon Drive-in has for the last few years. But although the heroic efforts of 11,000 nostalgia-crazed ozone fans kept it alive on borrowed time in 2004, this year, it will remain dark. The Odeon is now the 21st to join the honour roll of Manitoba's fallen outdoor celebrations of summer -- our drive-in movie theatres.
As I, like so many fathers before me, stumbled toward the smell of French fries, pizza and popcorn, goaded on by the tinny ranting of a cartoon wiener. I began to wonder how many of these creatures of the night are still operating. Maybe I should go on a hunt, a mission -- no, a quest -- to find the truth about Manitoba's forgotten giants. But first I've go to pick up three popcorns, two nachos and a package of Nibs for my wife.
Where did all the drive-ins go and why? When I was a small boy, they seemed to be everywhere. My brother and I would watch a silent private screening from the back seat of dad's Buick as it blew down the highway until the glowing image faded from view. Spending my childhood in the 1960s and '70s crisscrossing the province, it seemed there was a drive-in in every town. Now Manitoba is down to three ragged survivors.
If I squint while walking back to "Petey" with an armload of snacks, I can picture the dewy rooftops of cars with fins and hood scoops. Yeah, baby, I'm right back to the '60s. Going to the drive-in was an event. I went to the Odeon in my pyjamas with blankets and pillows in mom's 1960 Corvair with optional fold-down back seat and an orange Styrofoam ball from A&W on the antenna. My brother and I would stab each other senseless with those little orange french fry pitchforks until my dad would yell that timeless phrase, "I'll give you something to cry about!"
The atmosphere at the Odeon harkened back to that simpler time. No fights broke out. No beer bottles were smashed. Everyone respected each other's space, and a sense of community wafted over the crowd. I am thankful that I had the opportunity to share that quality family time with my parents and also my own children.
There were approximately 24 drive-ins back then in Manitoba, and I say approximately because many of the theatres were moved to different towns in their lifetimes and had new beginnings. Winnipeg claimed seven of the 24, with the Odeon being the last survivor.
There are three others -- well-kept secrets hidden in the darkened corners of the province. Still flickering to life at dusk on warm summer nights are Morden's Stardust, Killarney's Shamrock and Flin Flon's Big Island Drive-ins. The remaining 20 have passed on in waves over the past 50 years. Their names are lost on a generation of moviegoers, and a couple are lost to two or three generations. Names like Green Acres (1950-85) in Brandon and Sportsman Park (1965-90) in Onanole. Dauphin had the Park Drive-in (1955-95), and who remembers the Town & Country in Virden (originally the Virden Drive-in, 1960-1985) or the Airport Drive-in (originally the Yellowhead, 1955-1985) in Neepawa? The rusted remains of the Delta Drive-in (originally The Circus, 1955-85) in Portage la Prairie are still visible from the highway as you drive through town.
Let's begin our tour at my old stomping ground, flickering no more, just west of Winnipeg. Like Kong, the Odeon Drive-in was the last of its kind in Winnipeg, outliving its peers, who were either muscled into the ground by ravenous shopping malls or, worse yet, left to rust and decay in the silent majesty of the prairie sky. Opened in 1963, it was the last drive-in built in the city, and it was truly modern for its day, with 998 spaces and heaters next to the speakers.
The first to open was the aptly named Drive-in on Pembina in 1949. It was located on the east side of Pembina where Bishop Grandin Boulevard is today. Opening night included a cartoon, newsreel and the epic John Wayne western Red River.
Admission for an adult was 60 cents, kids 10-15 were allowed in for only a quarter and pyjama-clad wee ones got in for free. It was a hit. The newly mobile postwar consumer now had an affordable entertainment destination for their shiny new Pontiacs and Fords.
Soon to follow this hot new trend were the Eldorado (1950-56 -- Sobey's is on the site today), the Northmain (1950-80 -- east side of Main next to the Copa), the Airport (later the Airliner, 1952-76 -- Ellice Avenue and Century North), the Circus (1952-56 -- Portage Avenue and Westwood Drive) and the Starlite (1954-85 -- south side of Regent Avenue at Starlite).
When the concept was new in the province, the theatres prospered, but as other distractions arose, the owners had to come up with exciting enticements to lure customers. Most had playgrounds, while the Airport Drive-in had a novel tunnel entrance under the screen and a patio lounge with comfy chairs under a canopy. The Northmain and Eldorado employed such tactics as miniature golf, train rides and pony rides.
"We had a monkey village with borrowed animals from the zoo," remembers John Bennink, who worked at the Eldorado in the '50s. "We had promos where we gave away flash cameras or a puppy to the first 20 cars through the gate. By the end of the night there would be exhausted dads chasing puppies across the lot in the darkness while the kids yelled encouragement.
"It was a great job. Each drive-in had friendly competition and would try to outdo each other. The Starlite would have a Swap a Car Night, where you could trade your car for a brand new '54 Chevy on the spot, and then the Airport, Pembina and Eldorado would go one better by just giving you a new '54 Pontiac outright. They would give a car away every week! All summer long each theatre would (play against) the others in baseball tournaments. It was the best job."
Robert Morgan, who worked at the Starlight in the '70s as a teenager, recalls, "We had a blast working there every summer, letting our friends in for free, catching glimpses of half-naked teens in steamy cars and chasing rats out of the concession booth. The manager fell to his death one night while changing light bulbs above the lot. It was a crazy place."
The Eldorado and the Circus were the first to go, victims of increasing land values and urban sprawl, followed by the Pembina and Airport (Airliner) in the '70s and finally the Starlite and Northmain in the '80s. The Airliner had a rebirth when it was moved to Steinbach, but like many other theatres in the province, it was the victim of a violent windstorm in the '80s.
The rural venues enjoyed a longer, uninterrupted life span. They were saved by slow growth, flat land values and in some cases, by the fact that they were the only theatre around.
Bill Leefe, owner of the Big Island Drive-in in Flin Flon, thinks good community support, loyal customers and isolation are the reasons his theatre has been going strong since 1957.
Don Nychka, owner of the long-defunct Starlite Drive-in (1966-89) in The Pas, attributes the demise of drive-ins to the changing interests of young people, and the VCR.
"Kids aren't staying in the small centres anymore, and those that do have a huge choice of movie titles that they can watch at home with all their friends. The VHS tape signalled the beginning of the end for the drive-ins."
Many of the early theatres had to compete with each other for popular first-run movies. Pat Kotcharek, owner of the long-silent Lockport Drive-in (1954-62), recalls, "We couldn't get good movies because the Northmain would beat us to them. They would be showing A-list shows while we had B movies like Hot Rod Gang and High School Hellcats.
"We also had problems with kids vandalizing the sign and the speakers. You just can't make money when you only have 10 or 15 cars coming to a show. We sold the business and it was moved to Saskatchewan."
The base of the screen, pump house and grassy ramps remain in the woods just north of Hwy. 44 on Main Street.
It's 29 C, it's the Canadian hot spot for Oct. 3, it's noon and the Stardust Drive-in in Morden is hopping. Popcorn pops and pizza pops fry as the concession booth hums with activity. But it's not the movie that is attracting attention today. Instead, it's an old car swap meet.
Co-owner Marlene Wilson beams with pride as we talk about her baby.
"We live next door at the salvage yard and used to walk over to watch movies as kids. Then, when the previous owners were looking to sell, they felt like we were family and deserved to own the Stardust. We keep it viable by hosting events like swap meets and promos for movie nights with the local radio stations. We have offered space to campers so that they pay for the space plus they get a movie and snacks, all in the comfort of their bump-out mobile living rooms. We are part of the community; we know our customers and we take care of them.
"It's a labour of love, " she adds. "We keep opening every year because it's part of us, not because it's a profitable business."
A paper popcorn pail dances over the snow, seemingly searching for its long-ago-consumed contents as the sun rises over the Shamrock Drive-in in Killarney. The queen of the ozoners, Dot Gibson, shares some of her tales of drive-in longevity. Dot has been running drive-ins in Manitoba since 1959, when she and her late husband, Dave, bought the Shamrock (which opened in 1955) after a 10-year stint at farming. They soon added to their holdings when they moved the Stardust from Foam Lake Saskatchewan to Morden in 1964. In 1965 they moved the Lucky Star Drive-in (1965-2006) to Brandon from Souris. They built the Sunset (1975-85) in Melita and in the mid-'70s moved the Airliner to Steinbach, where they called it the Skyline.
"We are only open on summer weekends now," says Dot. "We still have the speakers on poles, and as other theatres close, we collect their equipment. It's getting harder to find parts to keep our equipment going. My husband had a small plane and would fly from Killarney to Morden to start the movie. We would get a call saying the projectionist didn't show up and he would hop in the plane and fly over, stay the night and fly back in the morning."
The Gibsons weren't the only owners to take to the air to run their theatres. Mabel Parobec and her late husband, Evans, would load their plane with popcorn and film and head out to the Windy Acres Drive-in (1964-90) in Russell and the Parvue Drive-in (1981-2001) in Shoal Lake in addition to others they owned in Saskatchewan.
King Kong is climbing the Chrysler building now. The kids are tired but still hanging in there. If they fall asleep, I'll tell them Kong got away and escaped to his island home.
I wish I could say that the drive-ins escaped progress. Most people today choose instead to have the mega-googleplex theatre experience. Couples are content to peel off $50 for two hours at the movies, including snacks and arcade games -- the very same amount I paid for my 1958 Chevy in 1980.
There is a nostalgic coming-together that happens at the drive-in that you just don't get from a DVD. If you take your kids to the drive-in, I guarantee that when they're 40, they'll remember spending that time with you, not all the Bratz dolls and DS games you gave them. Time is running out, fuel prices are rising like flood waters at the Forks and now there are only three left in Manitoba. We have not only lost acres of nostalgia and memories, but we have given up a valuable tool for building a family. Sound like something you've missed out on? You'd better hurry, because they are as rare as giant prairie apes and stubby beer bottles.
I guess we'll pack the pillows and blankets in Petey and camp out at the Stardust this summer.
Stuart Thickson is a freelance writer and art director at a local graphics company. He had been going to drive-in movies since 1968.
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