Anger drives this documentary from the beginning to the end. It overshadows the fear of facing the past, with Scala reminding me intensely of where I used to live—my childhood home, in fact. These were memories that I chosen to forget, like wiping clean a hard disk. Siam, Lido, and Scala, three standalone theatres in the Siam Square neighbourhood of Bangkok, were built in the late 1960s to attract more people to the district, a large commercial area that had just been built.
The success of the first two cinemas transformed a planned ice rink project into a third movie theatre, this time employing a more intricate design in hopes of making Scala the finest in Thailand.
This plan succeeded beautifully: Siam Square became a popular shopping district to the point that the neighbourhood’s land prices were the most expensive in the country. Eventually, the profit the cinemas gained from screenings was no longer enough to pay the rent.
Many people tried to help save the building, but the only legal route was for the theatre to be registered as an historic site, a proposal which responsible organizations like the Fine Arts Department did not seem to care about.
Siam and Lido are lost in flames. As for other standalone picture houses around Thailand, more than seven hundred of them gradually disappeared. Except for Scala, a gem of Thai cinema that was able to persist through the challenges of videotapes, cable TV, and streaming, all before the arrival of Covid-19.
Many people tried to help save the building, but the only legal route was for the theatre to be registered as an historic site, a proposal which responsible organizations like the Fine Arts Department did not seem to care about.
Everyone started to lose hope and knew it would be soon destroyed. But in my heart, there was still a deep hope that as long as the building stood, Scala might return someday.
I decided to go back to Scala on the day the theatre’s iconic chandelier was to be removed and then continued filming. Meanwhile, memories of the past slowly began to appear, overlapping with images of places and people in it. While the decorations were removed one by one, it gradually revealed the true structure of the place. It was like watching something living be slowly peeled apart, like human flesh.
Meanwhile, memories of the past slowly began to appear, overlapping with images of places and people in it.
Time changes constantly. Once you realize it, the fear gradually disappears. The good memories started to return. I tried to recall and preserve images and sounds I had seen and heard as a child as much as possible, thinking this material would be of use, to push for something and aid in the effort to save the building, but it was too late.
Ananta Thitanat
