September 13, 2002

It isn't there now but there used to be a wonderful old movie house in Culver City called the Palms Theater.  It was a friendly place to see a film — not fancy but comfy, not plush but cheap.  The big, first-run movies went to the fancier theaters in Westwood, all of them affiliated with national chains.  The Palms, fiercely independent to its dying day, usually offered up two second-run pictures, with a few trailers and a cartoon sandwiched between.

The best thing about the Palms was its recorded announcement.  I don't know who recorded them but he always commenced with "Shalom, Bubala," and he was always hysterical.  My favorite, which I shall now attempt to re-create, came when they booked a double-feature of Walter Matthau pics.  It went very much like this, and it will probably be funnier if you read it aloud...

Shalom, Bubala.  This is the exotic Palms Theater on picturesque Motor Avenue in beautiful Culver City.  This week, we are featuring Plaza Suite, starring Walter Matthau and Lee Grant, Walter Matthau and Maureen Stapleton, and Walter Matthau and Barbara Barrie.  We are also featuring A New Leaf, starring Walter Matthau and Elaine May.  In other words — Walter Matthau, ad nauseam.  Here's your chance to get so sick of Walter Matthau you'll never have to see another Walter Matthau movie as long as you live.

Drive up to the theater where our parking lot attendant, Walter Matthau, will show you where to park.  Then buy a ticket from our box office attendant, Walter Matthau, and have it torn in half by our ticket taker, Walter Matthau.  Visit our refreshment stand where our counterman Walter Matthau will gladly sell you a large, Walter Matthau-sized soft drink and a box of Jujubees, every one of them in the shape of Walter Matthau.  You will be seated by our usher, Walter Matthau, and then our projectionist (Walter Matthau) will start the program, commencing with a Walter Matthau cartoon, a Walter Matthau newsreel, and coming attractions of more than seventeen thousand Walter Matthau films.

Next week, we're featuring two more movies.  We don't know what they are yet but we can guarantee you that they won't have Walter Matthau in them.  In fact, we will give you a double-your-money-back No Walter Matthau guarantee.

If you read it the way the guy on the phone read it, it's hysterical.  (And here's an interesting example of how just the right word is important in comedy.  If you read the same speech with Jack Lemmon's name in there, it's only about half as funny.  Try it and see.)

I used to go to the Palms about once a month — sometimes with my parents, sometimes with a date — but I made a point of phoning each week to hear what the "Shalom, Bubala" guy had to say.  I wasn't the only one.  People who had no interest whatsoever in going to the Palms Theater used to call in sufficient quantity that the Palms had to install extra phone lines.

I can remember some of the movies I saw there — Airport, Paint Your Wagon, The Odd Couple...(This last was obviously before the "No Walter Matthau" policy went into effect).  I even remember the first time I took a date to the Palms.

It was Blue Water, White Death, a documentary about sharks that I'd have passed on, had it not been for Liz.  She wanted to see it and I was willing to take Liz anywhere, just as long as I could sneak my arm around her.

I was just buying two General Admissions at the Palms (not from Walter Matthau) when Liz said to me, "I feel I have to see this movie.  I have a terrible fear of sharks."

I stopped in the doorway, right by the non-Matthau usher.  "Why do you have to see this movie if you're afraid of sharks?" I asked.

"I'm hoping that if I confront my fear, I will get over it," she replied.

Well, it sounded good in theory but she spent the entire movie with her nails dug into my arm and/or thigh, and left the Palms so upset that she asked me to take her straight home.  This was not what I'd had in mind for the balance of the evening.  I haven't seen Liz since that night.  I have, however, seen her fingernail marks on my arm and thigh.

And I haven't seen the Palms Theater since shortly after that.  One day when I drove past, the marquee proclaimed, in lieu of movie titles, that it was "Closed until further notice."  The next time I cruised Motor Avenue, it said, "Closed forever."  And the next time, there was no marquee...or Palms Theater.

It looks like Walter had the last laugh.