Lincoln Center - Alice Tully Hall

I have no idea how I ended up on the New York Opera mailing list. Yet somehow I am, and they sent me information about the newly renovated Alice Tully Hall, and how the New York City Opera had a special discounted performance called Looking Forward, a "concert of vocal and orchestral music by great composers of the 20th century."

Great. It was one of those moments where I had to decide whether my long term cultural aspirations were more important than my giggly fits at operatic singing styles. I've never been one for the "classical" side of things, preferring an unbridled rock concert to the refined sophistication of the symphony. But I made a promise to myself when I moving to NYC that I would earnestly try to embrace the cultural opportunities the city had to offer - and this included ballet, opera and the symphony.

So, I bought the tickets, and managed to get box seats for the same base general admission discount price. I am fairly confident I will not be able to afford box seats again in a very long time, so this was pretty exciting.

Specially because, seriously, the building? It's awesome. I'd heard about it, and passed by the construction scaffolding before. But in all honesty, I wasn't familiar with the project and design details. Sometimes (often), I feel like I fail in keeping up with the architecture world. I don't know what that means about my career aspirations, and frankly, I don't care to find out. I still managed to get crazy with the pictures, so I guess I am in the right field.

For the sake of this blog I've dug up some online information on the building. Curbed - Diller Scofidio + Renfro Architectural Record The very confusing flash hyperactivity of the Diller Scofidio + Renfro official website


What I can say, the massing is exciting, and the glass facade feels modern and airy. It reminded me of a Jean Nouvelle building, and I mean that as the biggest compliment. The design includes some pretty amazing overhangs, details of warped wood panels, and a lobby cafe that was open to the public. I don't know why more theaters don't have a cafe in the lobby, it gives people a place to be before the performance, and also guarantees that the space will always have people, even if the show is not full.

The historic preservation controversies are interesting, as with many cultural institutions. I am still a child of my times, and believe that sustainable historic preservation practices need to allow for bold contemporary design, specially when given a landmark building opportunity. So it follows that I am delighted with the Alice Tully building, and I can't wait to see how the rest of Lincoln Center will shape up. Keeping my nerdy fingers crossed that I will still be in the city when they finish working on the main plaza.

The actual performance hall was incredibly underwhelming though. They didn't allow me to take my camera past the ticket check point, I had to drop off my baby at the coat check. I understand why they do that, but there was no way to convince them that I had no interest in taping the NY Opera perform, I wanted pictures of the wall panels. (They probably thought I was mental, going around taking pictures of spider brackets and silicon mullions. Heck, I think I'm mental for even writing that last sentence.) The problem is that in comparison to lobby's modern grandeur, the performance hall felt oddly small and unfinished. I'm sure it's got amaaaaazing acoustics, but I couldn't shake the feeling that we were aboard a minimalist wooden Swedish space ship.

Here are some pictures.

Angelika Film Center

While being fully aware of what a predictable cliche I am, I will admit that the Angelika Film Center in Soho is one of my favorite movie theaters.

I feel soooo much better after admitting that, like I am at some "inadequate film buff" anonymous meeting. I say inadequate because I am not actually a film buff, just wish I was. And part of not being an actual film buff is that one is free to embrace the established and like the Angelika, even though I am sure there are much more obscure art-houses in the city showcasing contemporary experimental films and those weird b-movies hipsters seem to be so fond of.

Before this, my favorite movie theater was the Alamo Drafthouse, in Austin. Scratch that, the Alamo Drafthouse is still my favorite place, it's awesomeness cannot be denied. The great thing about the Alamo is its ability to be kitschy and indie and funny and alcoholic and genuine and ironic and serious all at the same time. I digress, but among the types of screenings I saw at the Alamo (in no particular order): foreign movies, new releases, weird documentaries, pop-music sing alongs, 80's sing alongs, film classics, special screenings with guest directors, and the Mr Sinus movie commentaries. All of this while ordering food (from a menu) and beer. You can't beat that. When I lived in Austin, I thought the Alamo was one of those great places I wouldn't be able to find anywhere else.

As it turns out, you really can't beat it. I have searched high and dry in NYC for a theater equivalent, a place where silly events and serious films occupy the same building (though at different times), with the ability to drink in the screening rooms. And though I have not found it, I think the Angelika is a wonderful substitute.

My favorite Angelika feature, and the one that reminds me most of the Alamo, is the large coffee shop in the lobby. I haven't seen this in other movie theaters, and it really creates a sense of place. As opposed to most theaters, where the lobby is non-existent, and tickets are required to have access to the concession stand, the Angelika coffee area is open to the public. With pastries, couches and tables (oh my!), it is a standard cafe that happens to be in a movie theater. A great place to chillax while waiting for friends to arrive (and they will be late, specially if it's a weekend and the subways are running on insane weekend schedules), or wait until the movie starting time. Last week, my mother and I were a half hour early for our movie, and grabbed coffee and chatted for a while, and Nate even stopped by for a bit to say hi on his way to the subway back home. It's such an efficient way to give guests a sense of place, and people feel invested in places they can claim as their own. Easy way to build a return customer base.

The main problem, though, is that as an older building, it lacks the bells and whistles that many of us have grown to expect from the movie experience. No stadium seating, no seemingly fancy surround sound, the screening rooms are small. And on a charming but bothersome note, probably depending on your sense of irony, you can hear the subways rumbling under the floors.

The movie selection more than makes up for the potential sound issues. I am of the idea that films are better experienced collectively, as a shared experience with a group of strangers that become companions for at least 90 minutes. And state of the arts technology doesn't affect or change the heart of that experience in the least.