The Grand Old Duke of York
My visit to England's oldest purpose-built cinema
I’m standing inside the entry way of The Duke of York’s cinema in Brighton. The black and white tiles on the floor match the raunchy pair of legs on the roof1. The previous showing has just finished, the crowd coming out in dribs and drabs.
“Mmm, popcorn”, one woman exclaims towards me, elongating the ‘corn’ part of the word as she heads to leave. I thought the desire for a snack was exclusive to those going into the cinema, not leaving it. I give an awkward laugh and she leaves, popcorn-less.
I’m waiting for the manager to let me go and have a look at the cinema while it’s empty, before the gathering crowd in the foyer take their seats. I wanted to document it for you, my readers, and so I spent a few minutes explaining my newsletter, and why I wanted permission to go in first.
“They haven’t quite finished cleaning, but you can probably just go in”.
I’m bringing my newsletter into the real world and I feel like a complete nerd. A film-buff manifest. She’s noticed that I’m just loitering and takes pity. I make my way through the narrowing walkway and through the black door into the theatre.
Crowning the oldest cinema in the UK isn’t simple. The Electric in Birmingham, which sadly closed its doors earlier this year, claimed to be the oldest, opening in 1909. The Regent Street Cinema hosted the Lumière brothers showing off their Cinématographe machine in 1896 to paying customers. So that must be it right!?
Yes and no. So many of these pictures palaces closed and re-opened over the years. There aren’t that many that have kept their projectors running from the outset. Open in 1910, The Duke of Yorks Cinema is the oldest purpose-built and continuously run cinema in the UK and one of the first in the world.
It was built for £3,000 by the actress and theatre owner Violet Melnotte-Wyatt. She owned a theatre of the same name in the West End which she had built with her husband in 1892. Not long after, Melnotte-Wyatt moved to create this Picture Palace fit for a Duke and Duchess in Brighton.
The cinema went through the same changes as others over the years, with the invention of sound and technicolour. It closed for a week in 1939 at the beginning of the Second World War, but reopened when the government realised how important these places were for morale (and information!).
After a near decline into bingo hall status (as was the fate of countless picture houses around the country), The Duke of York spent decades in different owners hands, becoming known for its art house output until fairly recently, with the Cineworld group taking over in 2012.
And now I’m here, in the 114 year old auditorium on my own. It feels like a small traditional theatre, with its curved, cream ceiling. Its red walls and black pillars. There’s a simplicity to it that’s functional with elegance coming from its gold trimmed red curtains, and illuminated arch that draws you toward the screen, glowing yellow while you wait for the lights to go out. Here’s some footage I took of my time there before the film:
Done with my one-to-one meeting with The Duke of York, I make my way upstairs to the balcony area. I’ve picked a seat front and centre. Taking off my coat, placing my snacks down on the balcony ledge, I sink into my seat and imagine for a while that I'm in the 1920’s.
“Oh my god, the screen is so far away. We’ve made a mistake”
2024 rang and wanted its multiplex back. I recoil in horror. How dare the person behind me want a large cinema screen at a reasonable distance! This is history damn it!
Ok maybe not everyone is into this kind of experience as much as I am. I check myself before I wreck myself, and settle back down. I can hear the projectionist flick the switches, one by one, as the lights go out.2
The movie starts. This building wants me to know I’m in it. The light from the screen illuminates the room and I can still see the details on the pillars. The sound echoes off the walls just like it always will have. I can hear everyone laughing at the funny moments. This isn’t a building designed for optimum noise cancelation and pitch black. It’s designed for a night at the pictures with the community. Multiplex Mindy behind me probably doesn’t like all of this, but I can’t get enough.
Whenever I visit buildings like this I feel the weight of the past. My mind constantly blown, wondering about the people, the family outings, the friendships and first dates that all played out here over the past century.
There’s a great website here that collated memories and history from the cinema for its centenary. There’s an amazing story here from the 1970’s
My main memory is from 1975 when I lived in Shaftesbury Rd and was expecting my second child. He was two weeks overdue, I was vast and kaftaned and very, very fed up. We decided that a short trip down the road wouldn't do any harm, so off we went to see Blazing Saddles.
It was wonderful, my mood changed by the minute and I started to laugh and laugh - and realised after a while that I was actually in labour. No way was I going to miss any of the film, so I sat there until the end, vaguely wondering if there was anyone there who could deliver a baby.3
Incredible. I hope no one tried this with Oppenheimer.
I feel grateful to have visited this iconic building at a time where we are talking about the decline of cinema more than ever. The recent closure of The Electric in Birmingham highlights the fragility of the industry. The Duke of York has never shut its doors, but that doesn’t mean it never will.
These buildings are a part of our collective heritage. Before more of them turn into flats or bingo houses (does that still happen?), I’m going to get out there and visit as many as I can! And you can be sure I’ll be documenting them here. Just don’t tell Multiplex Mindy.
Gareth
The legs were moved to the cinema in 1991 by the owner who had recently closed his Not The Mouline Rouge theatre in Oxford
I bet that annoyed the woman behind me. “Can’t they use a dimmer switch?”, I bet she thought.
http://dukeofyorkscinema.co.uk/2010/06/barnes-c-1970-labour/
Love seeing this! And the woman in labour - I get it, we all want our money's worth at the cinema. I just had to google my old favourite The Dominion in Edinburgh to check it's still open (it is) - if you don't know it, have a look. It's an old neighbourhood cinema (family-run I think ) where we sat in rows of sofas.
What a wonderful read, Gareth, thank you. I love an old cinema - there's so much history, as you say, and there's just a lot more soul to them than there is to a more modern cinema. An old cinema in the town I grew up in used to sell plaques to put on their chairs, so people could donate to them in some way outside of just paying to see a film - I always think back to one that simply said "this is where I first held your hand." Magic.
(There was also a very creepy old cinema in my town, where I once saw a film burn up on the screen mid showing. Fascinating to see, but didn't much help with the creep factor of the place)