Thursday, July 4, 2002

Cinematic Success

Joanna and Richard Hughes nurture film fans and cultivate community spirit at the Beach Theatre.

By Katy Murphy
Points South Staff Writer

ST. PETE BEACH-Beach Theatre employees affectionately refer to customer George Flack, 70, as "the Reverend." They don’t know his name, but when they see his face, they know it’ll be two lemonades and a medium popcorn to share with his wife, Olga. They also reserve back exit row seats with a napkin for the Flacks. Olga, 71, had hip surgery last June. She can’t negotiate the aisles like she used to.

George emerges smiling from the movie theater, a patriotic ribbon and various religious insignia pinned to the lapels of his olive jacket. He and Olga liked "The Importance of Being Earnest" enough last week to come back and see it again. They visit the theater almost every Saturday night.

On his way out, George peers through the glass door. He sees a teen-ager perched on a bike rack, dressed entirely in black except for a long silver chain dangling from his pants. Spikes protrude from his armband.

"Some strange people start to appear for this ‘Rocky Horror Show’ on Saturdays," he says.

PHOTO BY KATY MURPHY

Tony Saieva, 24, serves a drink to a Rocky Horror fan on Saturday night at the Beach Theatre.

All walks of life come to The Beach Theatre, a blue and white Art Deco building on 315 Corey Ave. The third-oldest building in St. Pete Beach, it is now the closest place to St. Petersburg to catch foreign or independent films. At a time when DVDs, digital TV and BayWalk’s 20-screen theater megaplex dominate the entertainment landscape, smaller theaters struggle.

Several local cinemas have closed their doors this year, including United Artists Theater and Main Street Cinemas, a discount theater in Clearwater. Two AMC theaters, at Clearwater and Countryside malls, have also recently shut down.

But somehow this single-screen theater has managed to stay afloat. Its offbeat movies, Amber Bock beer and friendly English owners have attracted a diverse and devoted clientele during the past few years.

"It’s a labor of love," explains Joanna Hughes, 29, who runs the theater with her husband, Richard. The two met in St. Petersburg. When they saw that the theater was for sale in 1997 for $260,000, Joanna’s father, Raza Chouls, a commodities trader, bought it for them to operate.

"We want to be that friendly neighborhood place where you get more than in a multiplex," Joanna says.

Joanna and Richard knew that their theater’s survival would rely on a specialized niche. Their independent features would have to be first-run. Not too bizarre, but not too mainstream, either. It’s often a close call. More popular films like "Amelie," "The Blair Witch Project" and "Monster’s Ball" sometimes filled the 243 seats. They opted against "Life is Beautiful" because too many other theaters were showing it.

Theresa Divito often drags her husband, Joe, to the Beach Theatre with her.

"I love this theater. It’s like an old-fashioned movie house!" exclaims Theresa, 46, from Seminole. "He comes kicking and screaming," she says, smiling at her husband, "but he ends up loving the movies."

The theater typically generates $60,000 to $80,000 profit a year. Joanna, a commodities trader for Remizzo, Inc, crunches the numbers for their small enterprise; Richard, a graphic designer, applies himself to its "colors and shapes," she jokes. The couple’s complementary assets inspired them to revive the dilapidated theater four years ago. They knew nothing about the movie industry back then.

Richard and Joanna had no choice but to renovate. Musky, tobacco-stained hemp drapes covered the walls. The ceiling often rained on the moviegoers.

"There were seats with worn springs shooting into people’s bums. We had to pay for a few pairs of trousers," Richard says.

Two years and $100,000 later, the theater boasted a new sound system, comfortable seats with cup holders and a new roof.

Richard, whose father’s construction business brought the family to live in Zambia, Nigeria and the United Arab Emirates, sometimes has the urge to uproot himself again. It’s hard, as a designer, to be tied to one place. But it’s too late.

"We love this theater," he says. "It means too much to us now."

Dave Bricker, a 22-year-old manager, considers himself a part of the family business as well. He’s worked at the Beach Theatre since right after "The Blair Witch Project" came out three years ago.

"If I’m not at home, I’m here," Dave says. "The movie industry sucks you in."

The theater’s four employees, Dave, his cousin Doug Katlin, 22, Tony Saieva, 24, and Phong Nguyen, 22, began their migration from a multiplex theater four years ago. They enjoy the autonomy, the increased pay and the sense of place the theater provides. It’s also the hangout of choice for their tight-knit group of friends, most of whom went to Boca Ciega High School, or "Bogie," as they call it.

"We pay them well, but it’s gone beyond the money," says Richard. "They love it now, for some reason."

His employees worry when ticket sales are down. They screen every new movie before it comes out and give recommendations to the 30 people who call each day. And they treat their regulars, like "the Reverend," as friends.

George holds the door for Olga as she leans on her cane for support. The light from the marquee illuminates the brick sidewalk for them. The lobby is empty again. Dave abandons the concessions counter to clean the theater before the "Rocky Horror Picture Show," the cult classic that plays every Saturday night at 11:30 p.m.

Anthony Lauver, 18, comes to life from the bike rack when asked about "Rocky Horror." Anthony is a fan of black metal and poetry, but "Rocky Horror" is his passion. In school, they think he’s weird, he says, but he feels accepted here. He has memorized all the lines from the gag script.

"I sit with myself so I can say my lines," he says, swinging his arms as he talks.

Anthony steps into the light of the marquee, the same light that will draw the late-night theater groupies. They come every Saturday night with no intention of watching "Rocky Horror." The Bogie grads, many former employees, come to smoke and laugh outside the theater door. And they will stay until 2:30 a.m., when the lights of the Beach Theatre click off.