Christopher Harris: Opinion: 27 Drive-In reminds us of how we make memories at the movies

May 7—In one of those movie-style twists, there is a real irony to the fact that our community's most venerable cinema — the 27 Twin Drive-In — is closing just as the Virginia is set to re-open downtown.

It was at almost the same time on Wednesday night that the 27 Drive-In and City of Somerset's respective Facebook pages made their posts. The drive-in theater announced that would it remain closed rather than opening up for another season after having been in business since 1967. Meanwhile, the City of Somerset posted a locally-made video about the old Virginia Cinema closing in 1994 after an ice storm damaged the roof, and how efforts have been made over the years to bring it back to life. That will take place next month, when the Virginia on East Mt. Vernon Street in downtown Somerset begins its new existence as a live entertainment venue.

Let's delve deeper into the irony. Once upon a time, 27 Drive-In was one of several in Pulaski County. They were out on a stretch of U.S. 27 where not much else existed, other than the wide-open spaces necessary for a drive-in theater. The Virginia, meanwhile, joined the Kentucky Theater as major downtown moviehouses at a time when downtown Somerset was the local hub of commerce and social activity. By the time the Virginia closed, 27 Drive-In reigned supreme over its competitors — and flourished on a now-busy "strip" joined by the likes of the Somerset Mall and its Showplace Cinema and many other businesses, some of which had migrated to the highway from downtown. The Virginia, meanwhile, was surrounded by little other than professional offices, as downtown Somerset had become a shell of its former self.

Now? Downtown Somerset is in the midst of a renaissance, and the Virginia's new look is part of that revitalization effort. There's still plenty to do up and down U.S. 27, but the '80s fascination with the "strip" that pushed so much out there has worn off. There is no more theater in the mall (though the more modern Somerset Cinemas 8 stands across the road from it).

Everything seems to go in cycles. A season for everything. Turn, turn, turn, as The Byrds might sing.

I am grateful that I took the opportunity last year to go to 27 Drive-In, not knowing that it would be my last chance to do so. I hadn't been previously since 1997, when the comic book adaptation "Spawn" came out. In the years that followed, I just kind of took the existence of the drive-in for granted. Big blockbusters? I wanted to go see those in the cineplex with the surround sound. Art house movies? They weren't usually playing here anyway. I always had a reason for going somewhere else. I mean, it was cool that we still had one of those things that my parents used to go to back when they put the "baby" in "baby boomers" but ...

Last year, I finally decided, this is stupid. We have this really cool, classic piece of Americana here that you can't get just anywhere. Why am I not taking advantage of this? Granted, as I get older, I'm embracing the past more and more, as people tend to do. We all have our own version of the "good old days," and each generation always will. But "nostalgia" is now more appealing to me in many ways than "state-of-the-art" and while I'm still going to the more modern theaters when I can, I suddenly found the drive-in calling my name.

So I went two times last summer — first, to see "Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings" (which was enjoyable) and second, to see "Snake Eyes: G.I. Joe Origins" (which was pretty terrible). I found the experience to be a lot of fun. It was nice to sit in the car with the window down on a warm summer night, the sun disappearing on the horizon, hang my foot out the side, and watch the good guys beat up the bad guys. And I planned to make the drive-in a stop on my summer movie circuit at least once a year from then on.

That's not going to happen. So I'm very glad I listened to the little voice inside me that said, "Hey dummy, go check this thing out!" while I still had the opportunity.

(My absence was made even stranger than I always felt a connection to the drive-in. The U.S. Supreme Court decision regarding illegal seizure in which the 27 Drive In was involved in 1973 saw my grandfather Meriel's law firm defending the theater and owner Harry Roaden, though it was his partner Phillip Wicker that did the bulk of the work on the case. I've never seen the "X-rated by '70s standards" film that was at center of the case, "Cindy and Donna," but I did find a vintage poster of it one time online and was like, "I have to get that. That's family history for me." I still need to get it framed and hang it. Talk about a conversation piece!)

We rarely get second chances, like we're getting with the Virginia. Of course, this version of the Virginia will be way different from the one I remember back in the late '80s showing "Pippi Longstocking." To become a viable business model, it will be hosting concerts, plays, events — much more than, say, the movie of the week. Whether we'll ever get another chance with 27 Drive-In, I don't know.

Even Showplace Cinema in the mall temporarily found a new life — though, like with the Virginia, it was different. On the plus side, it tried to make something more modern, including sensory-friendly access for special needs individuals. On the downside ... the giant wall of posters was gone. You remember that wall? If you're of Generation X or an Elder Millennial, you almost certainly saw it right there behind the snack counter — this giant melange of posters from 1980s hit films. That wall keeps a special place in my heart; when I think of going to the movies as a kid, that's what I think of.

Showplace held a lot of memories for me. Standing in the huge line out to the door to get into "Star Wars: The Phantom Menace" in 1999. Asking a girl out on a date to (appropriately enough) "Great Expectations" in '98 that I later learned she didn't realize was a date. (Oops.) Having to get up and leave "E.T." in 1982 because the ugly little alien was dying and it was making me too sad. (Give me a break, I was 2; I wouldn't see the ending of the film until years later).

But Showplace went away (twice). The Virginia went away. And now, 27 Drive-In is taking its bow.

The way we watch movies is changing. Once upon a time, a tiny television was considered a poor vessel on which to watch images filmed for the big screen, like the vast deserts of "Lawrence of Arabia." Now, even the average household practically has a home theater. Streaming services bring new release movies right to one's home; the COVID era only deepened that trend. There are a lot of factors that lead people now to choose the convenience of the living room over going out to the theater, which was once considered a magical experience.

The thing is, though .... it still is. It can be. I attended the Thursday night showing of the new "Doctor Strange" at Somerset Cinemas 8. I was not expected the crowd to be as big as it was, based on previous experiences with local audiences. The theater was packed. The audience was engaged. There was cheering and "oohing" and clapping at all the appropriate moments. Best of all was this feeling of joyful normalcy after the last two years. It was a communal experience the way the movie theater was so often in generations past. It was a heck of a lot of fun.

Someday, that theater may not be there either. But I'll remember that movie, that crowd, that experience. No home streaming service can replace that. And such technology is a far cry from the experience that 27 Drive-In gave us — something that was beyond a movie. It wasn't just communal with the audience — it was communal with nature at the same time. The fresh air, the night sky, the grass under the feet. All memories so many people in this county have surely made.

The march of time is hard on the legs. The things we know and love, the things that made us who we are, fall away one by one. I'm very glad that Somerset is making use of the Virginia space and doing something new and exciting with it. It needed to be done, and it will make downtown a better place to be.

But it is not the same. No attempt to recapture the past ever really succeeds, not authentically, because nothing can stand up to the portrait of perfection that our memories inevitably paint. No matter how good something was, our nostalgia will always make it ten times grander.

And that's okay, because that's what makes the march of time bearable. You can stop and rest and look backward, and see the most beautiful sights that you left behind. It reminds you of who you are and why you march on. Those who were not as late to the party as I was with the drive-in will always remember it that way. Memories as picture perfect as a Hollywood kiss on the silver screen.