Appreciation: The General Cinema Northpark I & II movie theater (1965-1998)

In the months since the first televised two-minute trailer of “Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace” (1999) aired on news and entertainment shows last November, everyone I know had been asking if I, along with probably the rest of the country, was going to stand outside in line opening day May 19 this year to see the most anticipated film of probably the whole decade.

I would have said yes at the time if the Northpark General Cinemas I & II located in North Dallas was still open. If there was any theater in Dallas I would have gone to and if there was any justification to my making that day an official personal holiday to see Phantom Menace at, it would have been that one.

Hard to believe that inside the unattractive, rectangular, shaped building were two auditoriums that sat up to 1,200 people in Cinema 1 and 500 more patrons in Cinema 2, according to an Oct. 21, 1998, article in The Dallas Morning News.

I fell in love with the place in the summer of 1991 when a friend of mine and I went to see a restored print of director Stanley Kubrick’s “Spartacus” (1960). From that moment on my opinion changed when it came to seeing movies on the big screen.

Auditorium I at Northpark.

Northpark I & II was nothing like the movie houses I went to in the Mesquite area, all of which are now closed except for AMC 30 located off I-635 and I-80. I cannot count how many bad experiences I had going to some of those roach-infested joints where the seats were either broken or smelled of someone’s sweat or body odor from the previous person who sat in it or there were problems with the picture or sound quality. The movie screens were not exceptionally large and unlike the ones at Northpark, half of them did not cover the entire front wall.

If it wasn’t those issues I was having to put up with, it was the sounds of incredibly annoying, irritating, inconsiderate patrons, most of them kids, who constantly talked, ate popcorn, and got up in the middle of the movie headed to the bathroom.

No one ever talked as the pictures played at Northpark. If any sounds emanated from the audiences, it came from the ones who blew their noses weeping silently as they learned about the thousands of Jews who were executed by the Germans during World War II, and from the people who applauded when Ralph Fiennes’ sadistic Nazi commander died at the end of “Schindler’s List” (1993).

That was one of the few rare moments where I remember audience participation being that high other than when a few over excited fans sang 20th Century Fox’s opening prelude to “Star Wars: The Special Edition” in January 1997.

There were never any technical difficulties with the picture quality or the THX Dolby Digital Surround Sound system. What I especially loved was how there were usually only about ten or twenty people there during an afternoon matinee. You could still sit anywhere in the place without having your view obstructed, though the chairs were nothing like those found in today’s futuristic megaplexes that feature comfortable, stadium seating that go up two stories.

People from all over the Dallas area came to see movies there. But the crowds Northpark most attracted, though very few in numbers, were those hardcore film aficionados like me and senior citizens who enjoyed watching old classics on the big screen. It was a completely different atmosphere.

In summer’s past, the place would offer special midnight weekend only showings of “2001: A Space Odyssey” (1968), “Raiders of the Lost Ark” (1981), “Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan” (1982), and even “Dune” (1984). My only problem with that was I could not go because I worked 12-hour shifts Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays and did not get off until 5 a.m.

There were times when management would do little promotions of the features they were showing. When “The Crucible” played there in December 1996, a rave review from The New York Times was posted on a large white cardboard display outside the entrance. When I bought advance tickets for “Star Wars: The Special Edition”, composer John Williams’ musical soundtrack was playing on the speakers outside.

Since its opening in September 1965, the cineplex was home to such critical favorites as “The Graduate” (1967), “Airport” (1970), “Network” (1976), the Star Wars trilogy (1977, 1980, 1983), and “E.T. The Extra Terrestrial” (1982). The most talked about incident was when the 1982 sneak preview of “Blade Runner” was shown. Sitting among the audience trying to gauge people’s reactions, unbeknownst to anyone there at the time, was actor Harrison Ford. The science fiction film was a box office flop back then but has since gained a cult following.

Since 1991, a handful of the movies I saw at Northpark was a combination of first run films, exclusives, and anniversary re-releases that included “Dr. Zhivago” (1965), “Fearless” (1993), “Giant” (1965), “The Godfather” (1972), “JFK” (1991), “Quiz Show” (1994), “Titanic” (1997), “Twister” (1996), “Vertigo” (1965), and “Waterworld” (1995). There were only three movies I saw there that did not get my seal of approval all from 1996: “The Nutty Professor”, “Sleepers” and “Up Close and Personal”.

But in the words of Ray Liotta’s Henry Hill who winced at having to bid goodbye to the gangster life at the end of Martin Scorsese’s “Goodfellas” (1990), “Now it’s all over.”

The General Cinema Northpark I & II closed its doors forever on Oct. 22, 1998; a victim not just to the huge twenty plus multiplex theaters movie lovers flock to now but a victim to construction and mall expansion.

In a year or so, a store or two will be built where the theater once stood.

Today, the cineplex, which sits across the street from one of the mausoleums at Hillcrest Memorial Cemetery where baseball legend Mickey Mantle is buried, is like a cold, dark, quiet, empty tomb.

All that is left to remind anyone there was a movie theater there are the rusted, black Roman numerals I and II emblazoned on the outside walls and above the lobby entrance.

The glass casing near the box office that once posted the features and show times is gone now. The farewell note management left inside the day the place closed, however, is still fresh in my mind.

The message said in bold, white letters, “Thanks for the memories. 33 years. Goodbye.”

©10/28/98