Paddington’s Chauvel Cinema is in a large, handsome, and venerable building that, according to the cornerstone, had gone up in 1918. It also houses the Paddington Public Library which was, of course, not yet open. The building did not appear to have been built from the same kind of sandstone we’d seen in other old buildings, but it was painted yellow. Perhaps all the sandstone had left Sydney residents with the conviction that some shade of yellow is the proper color for all civic buildings.

The doors to the cinema were open. We walked up a carpeted stairway, into a lobby where we could smell popcorn being popped. Michael accosted someone who looked like he belonged there and asked if it was okay if we looked around a little. “Sure, I don’t mind,” the guy said, rather vaguely. “Maybe someone will show you around.” (It has since occurred to me that we merely assumed he worked there. He might have just been someone hanging around waiting for the Chauvel Cinema Cafe to open.) We took this as permission to explore. Michael was intent on seeing the theater, and he pushed open a door that plainly said “Theater Closed” and we stepped in.

Many years ago, we visited an alleged “movie palace” in Paris and were unimpressed. I had taken away the snotty American assumption that, really, only Americans understand what makes a movie palace a true movie palace. The Chauvel Cinema theater disabused me of this. No, it’s not the Castro, but it’s close, with an enormous screen covered by a dark red curtain, and rows and rows of upholstered seats beneath a mile-high, elegantly arched ceiling. And (I could not quite get over this) they were popping popcorn before 10:00 am. The movie posters were for interesting films, THIS IS THE PLACE with Sean Penn, TRISHHMA… And a sign said that if you didn’t like the movie they’d give you your money back. Yes, I remain very, very impressed.