The summer blockbuster season is upon us, Hollywood be praised! It’s the time of year when the heroes get better-looking, take themselves less seriously, and save the world a little more easily. The bad guys, meanwhile, get bigger, crazier, and (more often than not these days) computer generated. The next few months mean escapism, too much popcorn, and the cool darkness that only a $9 ticket can buy. And if you’re anywhere near Baltimore, MD, they should also mean the Senator.
This 69-year old movie theater is one of the last bastions of motion picture elegance, especially in this neck of the woods. This is no generic multiplex, but a true movie house. Its single screen is sized just short of a football field, and shows the pictures larger than life, which is how movies are meant to be seen, if you ask me.
The lobby is small and round, holding onto its faded elegance with due dignity. Past the concession stand lies the screening room: tall, wide, and comfortable. It’s as though you’ve come to sit in the great hall of a king’s palace. You would never expect it from the street, but when you take your choice of the 900 seats, it feels special.
What makes the Senator great, though, is not just the building. Buildings fade and crumble, after all. No, what makes the Senator great, what makes it an experience, is its character.
These days, when you walk up to a movie theater, it's often showing more movies than it has screens, but not so at the Senator. When you step across the sidewalk, covered as it is with the names of films gone by, and stand before the glass box office, there are no choices to be made. How many tickets do you need? That’s all the man wants to know. It’s $9, cash only, please, and you’re on your way. In a world drowning in choices, the Senator’s simplicity is like breathing mountain air after a lifetime of smog.
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