The Kent Theater/ Sex

I can't recommend Marion Meade's The Unruly Life of Woody Allen (New York, 2000), which I too hastily snatched off the library shelf. Written at the tabloid height of the Woody-Mia-Soon-yi fracas, it masquerades as a biography but in truth it's nothing more than scandalmongery.   

Before it gets down in the dirt, however, Unruly Life offers a quick summary of Allen’s life, a matter of which I was largely ignorant. Of course I knew that Allen was a Brooklyn boy who grew up in the old neighborhood. Allen Koenigsberg attended P. S. 99 on East 10 Street near Avenue K (where my cousin Louie was also a student). In addition, I knew, from Louie, that P. S. 99's principal was Eudora Fletcher and that, in the very inventive chameleon movie, Woody gave Ms. Fletcher's name to the psychiatrist who takes Zelig under her wing. 

But cousin Louie did not know, or did not bother to tell me, that Allen was a frequent patron of the Kent Theater on Coney Island Avenue and that it's rumored that it was at the Kent that the interior scenes in The Purple Rose of Cairo were filmed. I've seen Purple Rose recently and if it wasn't the Kent, it sure looks like the Kent of my memory. The Kent, along with its sister theater, the Leader, was one of my own childhood haunts. In fact, it was my father’s aunt Manya, substitute cashier, who sometimes sat in the box office and took my quarter.   

It was not at the Kent but at the Jewel Theater on Kings Highway that Allen encountered Ingmar Bergman for the first time. Well, not exactly Bergman himself. It was Harriet Andersson disrobing in Summer with Monika that seems to have caught Allen's attention. Unruly Life reports that Allen sat “with eyes bulging” to watch this and other early Bergman films. 

Allen’s protruding orbs brought to mind the impact that those shocking 1950s Scandinavian films had on the days of my early adolescence. It was at the Kent (aunt Manya must not have been on duty that day) that I once watched a Danish film in which there was a very brief flash of a woman in naked silhouette. All I can remember is that I sat through to watch the picture again -- it might even have been a double feature -- and that by the time the silhouette appeared a second time, my poor bladder was so swollen (I was afraid to leave my seat for fear of missing the moment) that it was about to rupture. How embarrassing it would have been to die of an aneurysm of the urinary tract simply to catch a glimpse of Harriet Andersson or one of her friends. 

In the 1950s, naked bodies were simply not on view. Never at all, at least not in my slice of the universe. I doubt that anyone from the post-Vietnam, post-sexual-revolution generation can imagine how nude-deprived were those severely repressed years. Bodies, women's bodies, were so rare and mysterious that a brief and evanescent flash of shadowed skin, circa 1953, could remain in the memory for more than fifty years.

Which is why I retain the warmest feelings for Coney Island Avenue's Kent Theater.

Comments

[Don Block]

Tommy Guariano played punchball with us for a few years and then went to work, but he was a pretty good hitter, and a nice guy. The Kent Theater was right around the corner from H on Coney Island Avenue. We saw all the good foreign films there. The most memorable was a pretentious piece of crap ("The Lovers") starring Jeanne Moreau and some guy who was supposed to have sex appeal. In one scene, He has a snake around his waist--a real snake--that slowly uncoils as the guy stares at Jeanne Moreau. How subtle. The flick was riddled with that kind of symbolism, and the audience was hooting and laughing and booing. It is unfortunate that the director could not hear us. He needed to hear that kind of feedback.

I can still summon up the smell of the Kent. At the time, it was owned by someone named Storch, who lived in my apartment house, 900 Avenue H.

Now if it hasn't been mentioned yet, who can name the Woody Allen flick that features the Kent?

[tommy Guariano]

Anybody remember Cookys Restarunt and the Chinese laundry on E 16th & Ave J 1958 to 1965 lets hear from you I was there it was our hangout then. Me, Bob Wachtell RIP, Sal Bifone, Mike Delieo,Harv Leff,Harv Karen,Kosher,Dippy,Pete and Jimmy Senay,The Clark Brothers Rob and Richie,Teddy Greenspan RIP, and a few other guys, and girls, what a great time we all had Tommy Guariano

[tommy Guariano]

I grew up on East 9th St between Ave H and Foster Ave and attended St Rose Of Lima Grade School then went on to Midwood HS Class Of 1957 I also remember the Kent Theater and Mr D who was a Comical Character fancy dresser Me and my brothers all worked after school right next to the Kent in the Key Food Market and have find fun memories of that I saw my first Horor film there "The Thing" with James Arness playing the part of the Thing a sort of Large scary looking Vegetable I will never forget that i had nightmares for weeks afterwards anyway we also went to the Midwood Theater on Ave J which was a bit larger then the Kent with a balcony where we had so many good times I saw West Side Story there one weekend 11 times. back then you went to the Movies at 11am when they opened and were able to stay until it closed at 9pm or later for the one admission of fifty cents what a great time it was being a kid anyone out there remember this Tommy Guariano

[Bob Sogluizzo]

From the late 1940's through the mid 50's, we(anywhere from 6-12 of us teen & pre-teen guys) walked to the Leader, Kent, Midwood, Rialto, Kings, Albemarle and Kenmore from our base headquarters on east 17th Street many times...mostly to the Leader & Kent though (closer to us). We'd stop at a local candy store and drop a few pennies into the vending machines outside and get sunflower and/or pumpkin seeds to bring with us to the movies. Guy who managed both the Leader and the Kent was an Edward G Robinson look alike named (by us?) Mr. D', and in both theaters he had very large, intimidating, matrons. who wouldn't hesitate in evicting you for any number of reasons (including bringing contraband goodies in). Saw my first 3-D (House of Wax) at the Leader...shot pool at the poolroom above the theater (entrance to which was closer to Ditmas than was the movies entrance). The 217 schoolyard was, and continued to be through the early 60s, an outstanding mecca for all sports. From the mid 1950's thru the early 60s, in late spring through early fall, you'd find 30+ guys waiting for their 'next's for half court 4 on 4 hoops. and there was some talent in that yard...would have liked to have seen that 2nd street Coney Island group play 217's best...would wager big on 217's all-stars. Then it was on to 2-hand touch football, with rushing and blocking...always seemed to almost be able to field to full 11 man squads, even though some guys who played round ball didn't play.

[Steve Lewin]

In 1953, or so, the Swedish "classic" One Summer of Happiness" came to New York, to much anguished protest from the Legion of Decency and the archdiocese for its nudity. I went to see it with my friend Bert Carter, who was two years older and six inches taller. To enhance our image, we bought a pack of cigarettes and puffed casually on them as we approached the box office. The cashier, perhaps a relative of your Aunt Manya, must have been amused enough to let us pass. There followed about two hours of excruciating boredom and then!!!!!!!--the great scene. It turned out to have been shot from three football fields away and lasted about a nani-second, then followed by another half hour of excruciating boredom.
Oh, the humiliation!
Steve