AFI Silver Theatre

1938 was a long time ago, but some aesthetic pleasures are timeless. Nowhere is this more evident than in the new AFI Silver Theatre and Cultural Center. This repertory theater, which has taken over the duties of presenting the past and overlooked cinema that the AFI's facility in the Kennedy Center formerly fulfilled, lives in the old art-deco paradise the Silver Theater, located just a half-block north of Georgia Avenue on Colesville Road, or, to put it another way, a two-and-a-half block walk from my apartment. For the purposes of presenting the greatest cinema in history and of today, the main screen of the Silver has been restored to the aesthetic splendor it dazzled patrons with when it opened, one year before "Gone with the Wind" came out.

Of course, there used to be only one screen at the Silver, and the theater used to seat 1300 people. There are now three screens in the same space, and the main screen now seats 400, but this isn't the dilapidated former incarnation of the Silver, either, as you notice immediately when entering the main theater.

Stripes of lush earth tones and muted blues cascade towards the front of the theater, mirrored in a single central stripe incorporating the same colors on the ceiling. A curtain covering the screen features an unlikely motif of jumping dolphins, which is also picked up elsewhere; these marine mammals would look out of place anywhere but here, in their natural habitat. The stage, the backs of the seats, and the trim are all real wood, stained a golden hue and polished to a proud shine. The cloth covering the seats themselves takes on the blue of one of the wall and ceiling stripes. You'll crane your neck to follow things that aren't moving, as the lines and angles and patterns play off each other and take cues from one another and make a narrative with only one possible ending: an opening curtain. It is a strange and wondrous experience in a time when that row of Christmas-tree lights along the aisle is considered classy movie theater décor.

But, of course, some of the changes in movie theaters over the years have been indisputably good; if the Silver were restored to its true original condition, we’d have no handicapped seating area, minimally comfortable seats, no modern sound system, and some really skanky bathrooms. Thankfully, the handicapped seating area here is both generously sized and well-located. The seats recline slightly, not with the precipitous backward lurch of seats in some stadium-style theaters. While the main theater predated stadium seating, the gentle upward swoop of the floor both contributes to the drama of the space and will provide adequate view clearance for most people, unless you are sitting behind Lonny Baxter or somebody like that. The legroom is so generous that idiots less tall than Lonny Baxter will find it nearly impossible to annoy fellow patrons by kicking the chairs in front of them.

All fine and dandy, you say, but what of the viewing experience itself? The screen does not overwhelm with its size (that virtue was a modern invention), but it’s certainly big enough for everyone in the house to get a good look. The sound system won't overwhelm your ears, but pumps through the material clean and clear. And the environment of the theater brings an extra dash of excitement to the viewing experience no matter what's on, an advantage that will persist as long as the décor does.

The AFI Silver does have two other screens, and all three show something every night. The two non-Art Deco theaters seat 200 and 80 people, respectively, and while they cannot boast the thrilling accoutrements of the main theater, they do offer true stadium seating, exceptionally wide and comfy seats, and the same quality sound. It's hard to imagine three better places to watch the great stuff the AFI consistently displays.

Some problems remain. The theaters are chilled so that the temperature will be comfortable for a packed house, but when the house is less than packed, it can get pretty frosty in there. (Wear layers.) Though the theater employees are proactive in showing where lines should form, there’s no reason why there couldn’t be some kind of physical indicators there so that the employees could concentrate on other duties. The lobby space is awkwardly laid out, with the bathrooms all the way at the far end of the structure and a little café stuck into a counterintuitive cranny. Preservation imperatives no doubt dictated this in part, but it’s still annoying.

Speaking of the comestibles, it should be noted that the café finally got its ducks in a row with the county's fascist liquor board and now dispenses premium domestic beer and nice wine — alcoholic beverages of the kind rep-theater haunters tend to enjoy. Pizzas and such are also served, but my apartment is way too close to the theater for me to actually eat food there. The popcorn, by the way, is served with real butter — yes, real butter, not that awful rancid animal oil substitute that now drenches cinemagoers' corn. It's another reminder that the AFI knows the past had it right sometimes.

And yet another reminder comes when you’re approaching the AFI Silver: You look up the street and — there it is! — a marquee! An electronic marquee, but still, it shows the titles of the films playing this evening, and the upcoming attractions, and it has those glamorous rows of lightbulbs, and the main sign rising up spelling out SILVER vertically in huge letters, and…well, it’s a cinemagoing experience like we just don’t see nowadays. Except here. Expect big crowds eventually, drawn to the quality repertory offerings, first-class space and ample parking; expect to feel that sense of awe and amazement tickle you just a bit every time you walk in the main theater; expect me to spend an astonishing percentage of my paychecks at its box office, and be quite happy doing it.

 

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