Well, it is gone. Hoyts Lower Hutt is now closed for business. 
I visited the dying facility as it entered its terminal final week. I strolled past the boarded up ticketing offices that I had lined up many a time over the years; past the glowing display of the current movies and their session times that in a few days would shine no more; past the movie-of-the-week cardboard cutout display; up to the candy bar manned by two smiling attendants to order my final ticket to be issued from that dispenser and paid for using that EFTPOS machine (though perhaps I will encounter that EFTPOS appliance, unawares, again).
I climbed the steps to the first floor, past Coming Attractions posters for films that will never screen at this theatre (like Indiana Jones IV), wandered along the near deserted “waiting area” where I had occasionally queued (again) to get into the more popular features back in the day, opened the heavy doors into Cinema 3 and claimed a seat (unallocated) to be mine one final time.
Sitting in the near blackness, running my finger around the ridiculously large rim of the soft drink holder that only held the largest of cup sizes, struggling to find a comfortable position in a row where the leg room was just too short for a person of my average height, I remembered the crunch of discarded popcorn or sticky sensation of soft drink residue lining the floor from busier times. There had been good times spent here (if not in this particular theatre).
For some reason, I can recall some of the details of my first encounter with Starship Troopers with eerie clarity: the session was full, I was sitting on the right hand side of the row in about the middle of the theatre, and I was roaring with laughter most of the time, and the oppressive leg room never really got to me. Likewise my viewing of Rumble in the Bronx, Jackie Chan’s film: I sat in almost the same spot but in a less crowded cinema, laughing away at all the serious bits with a young lady behind me completely bamboozled as to why I found the more earnest scenes the most hilarious. Some other films come to mind for other reasons, like Mel Gibson’s Ransom film, which I saw as a “back up” film and will remember with horror for all time as an awful movie but also one where my distaste could not be hidden from my companion (the leg room was never more oppressive than that day).
Groups of young philistines coming in to sessions to have loud conversations were replaced in later years by groups of young philistines coming in to sessions to spend the entire film sending text messages to friends they evidently wouldn’t be seen dead with. Rigid adherence to a seating plan was eroded to a “sit where you like” policy as the crowds stayed away. Late night sessions popular with those who liked to avoid the crowds were phased out as the evening sessions themselves were avoided.
So, with all these memories of the place, am I sad to see it go? Let’s be honest here: the Lighthouse and Sky City cinemas are far superior to anything Hoyts Hutt offered. At the time it was built, it was evident the cinematic experience was playing second fiddle to sardine packing. No attempts were really made to revamp the place in the face of more comfortable competition from Readings, the Lighthouses and Sky City. And the Mall in which it is located has always seemed a death trap for small businesses anyway.
But, truth be told, I am a fairly sentimental person, so there is some small part of me that will admit that, for memory’s sake if nothing else, I will miss it.
The Val Morgan cinematic programme (love that it is called that; not “advertising” but “programme”), including a preview for a tired looking Harrison Ford as Indiana Jones, brought us to the movie, and the movie come and went. The cinema remained. The screen faded to black.
All was not silence though, of course. That was not the final day. There were still movies to be shown and patrons to be ushered. But next week, I know, I will not be able to go back.
Verdict: Adios, Hoyts Hutt. But you were just a 3 star cinema...
I visited the dying facility as it entered its terminal final week. I strolled past the boarded up ticketing offices that I had lined up many a time over the years; past the glowing display of the current movies and their session times that in a few days would shine no more; past the movie-of-the-week cardboard cutout display; up to the candy bar manned by two smiling attendants to order my final ticket to be issued from that dispenser and paid for using that EFTPOS machine (though perhaps I will encounter that EFTPOS appliance, unawares, again).
All was not silence though, of course. That was not the final day. There were still movies to be shown and patrons to be ushered. But next week, I know, I will not be able to go back.
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