Movies At Dog Farm Remembers . . . The Dixie Theater In Staunton, VA

     When I was growing up, my hometown of Staunton,Virginia had three theaters: the Plaza Cinema (now The Staunton Mall Cinema 6), the Visulite Cinema, and the Dixie Theater.  All three were still open for business until Sunday, July 27th when the Dixie Theater presented a final showing of Raiders Of The Lost Ark (1980) and then closed its doors.  This historic theater that first opened over a century ago was forced by a weak economy and rising operational costs to shut its doors for the last time.

The New Theater, 1913

     The Dixie, originally known as the New Theater, first opened those doors in 1913.  It was gutted by fire in 1936, after which it was remodeled in Art Moderne style by architect John Eberson and rechristened the Dixie Theater.  The Dixie was reconfigured into a four screen multiplex in 1982, and then slowly fell into disrepair over the course of the next two decades.  That's the era in which I visited most often, and I actually liked that it seemed just a little seedy.  The Dixie was slated to close in 2009, but it was instead taken over by Adam Greenbaum, who still operates the Visulite Cinema just a few blocks away.  Only last year the Dixie converted two of its four projectors to digital formatting at a cost of over $50,000 per projector.  Sadly, it seems that wasn't enough to boost attendance.

     At least the Dixie went out with a flourish this last weekend by screening the classic blockbusters Jaws (1975), E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial (1982), Back To The Future (1985), and the aforementioned Raiders Of The Lost Ark.  Of course, any one of these titles would have been a treat to see again on the big screen, but I opted only for tickets to the last showing of Jaws on Sunday.  It was the only one of the four I'd never seen in a proper theater.  As great as it was to see Jaws on the big screen for the first time, I found myself preoccupied with the ghosts of movies I'd seen at the Dixie in the past.

Time Walker (1982)

     In the early eighties the Dixie was a haven for the kinds of movies that more often turned up on the bottom of the bill at the drive-in.  I distinctly recall seeing The Grim Reaper there, which was a retitled and heavily edited American release of director Joe D'Amato's infamous cannibal flick Anthropophagus (1980).  For some inexplicable reason I have a very clear recollection of seeing future Mystery Science Theater 3000 fodder Time Walker (1982) at the Dixie, as well.  At the time (I was only twelve years old) I thought the defiantly B-movie conceit of an alien "mummy" buried in King Tut's tomb was pretty clever. 

     I also recall a few screenings made memorable primarily by virtue of who accompanied me.  My first apartment was in downtown Staunton within walking distance of the Dixie.  My grandmother crashed at my place while visiting from Minnesota one summer, and we walked to the Dixie together to take in a matinee of Pump Up The Volume (1990).  The R-rated story of an angsty teenage loner (Christian Slater) broadcasting a pirate radio station from his parents' basement was a bit of a shock to my grandmother, who professed to have no idea how difficult things were for the youth of the day.  We then spent the evening back at my apartment bonding over one of our first real adult conversations with one another, an evening that defined the tenor of our relationship from that day forward.

South Park: Bigger, Longer, And Uncut (1999)

     Of course, not every trip to the theater was fraught with such heady import.  I remember seeing South Park: Bigger, Longer, And Uncut (1999) with my dad at the Dixie.  My father is the kind of moviegoer who sees whatever happens to be popular at the time, but I'm pretty sure he had no idea what to make of this particular bit of bawdy pop culture.  I ended up watching his reactions more intently than I watched the movie.  I nearly lost him when Saddam Hussein, in bed with his lover Satan, whipped out an over-sized dildo.  Whereas Pump Up The Volume brought my grandmother and I closer together, the South Park movie only served to illustrate the generational divide between my dad and me.  Curiously, our bonding moment came later in the same year when we both had to remain seated long enough to regain our composure as the credits rolled at the end of American Beauty (1999).

     Not surprisingly, though, my most vivid recollection of the Dixie actually involved a horror movie screening nearly fifteen years earlier.  You see, the Dixie is where I saw Friday The 13th: The Final Chapter (1984).  The first two Friday The 13th movies had been seminal viewing experiences for me, and at the ripe old age of fourteen I actually believed that The Final Chapter would be Jason's swan song as well as the end of the Friday The 13th franchise.  I hadn't yet become the cynical and jaded curmudgeon I am today.

Friday The 13th: The Final Chapter (1984)

     Despite the popularity of the franchise, The Final Chapter had been booked into one of the two tiny theaters upstairs, each of which were one half of what used to be the balcony.  It was opening weekend, standing room only, and the crowd was rowdy and animated.  Everyone hooted and cheered for each successive gory demise.  The audience erupted when Jason slid slowly down the length of a machete planted deep in his head at the movie's climax.  There was no way in hell Jason would recover from that deathblow, right?  Of course, we all know better now, but at the time it seemed pretty definitive.

     Now, some thirty years later, I found myself watching a movie at the Dixie Theater for the very last time.  It didn't really hit me until the shark had been vanquished and the end credits rolled.  The capacity audience broke into applause at the end of Jaws, but in this one instance I'm pretty sure the applause was for the Dixie Theater itself rather than the movie.  A friend had teased that I would probably cry when I saw my last movie at the Dixie.  She was right.

A few more disappointing snapshots of the Dixie Theater in Staunton, courtesy of my crappy TracFone.

     Please visit Cinema Treasures for a gallery of fifteen higher quality Dixie pics as well as a street view of the Dixie you can manipulate to get a closer look at the arches, terra cotta tiles, and laughing theatrical faces that adorn the front of the building.  The property is owned by the Staunton Performing Arts Center, which has plans to restore and renovate both the Dixie and the adjacent Arcadia Building.

     At least the building itself will be restored to an approximation of its original glory.  Sadly, however, the Dixie Theater I knew is gone for good.

The Dixie Theater
1913-2014
R.I.P.