Film buffs fight gentrification
When a bunch of teenagers occupied a 1950s movie theatre at risk of demolition in Rome’s fashionable Trastevere neighbourhood five years ago, it could have become the umpteenth example of generational muscle-flexing, destined to sputter.
Instead, the continuing story of the Cinema America theatre has become central to the narrative of a gentrifying neighbourhood that some said was at risk of losing its soul. The cinema was bought in 2002 by developers who would still like to tear it down and turn the site into an apartment block. This month, officials with the culture ministry once again stayed the demolition of the theatre with a new request for verification of its artistic and historic value.
The measure has — at least temporarily — held the bulldozers at bay. While there is no guarantee for the cinema, the effort to save it has nonetheless become an emblem of civilian protest against property redevelopment that is rife in the capital.
Over the years, Trastevere has changed from a neighbourhood of port workers and labourers. Now, its cobblestone streets are overrun with tourists. Restaurants and bars have muscled out more traditional shops and local artisans. Many apartments are now run as bed-and-breakfasts or turned for cash.
“People who have an apartment here move out and rent it instead,” said Lorenzo Terranera, a graphic artist who works in Trastevere.
The encroachment of tourism has angered many residents. That is why the battle to save the Cinema America “has revitalized the neighbourhood,” said Guido Hermanin, president of the Associazione Progetto Trastevere, which has been fighting to preserve the theatre.
When it was initiated in 2012, the occupation of the cinema was supposed to last only a few weeks. It continued for nearly two years, and was ended by a commando-like raid in September 2014.
During their occupation, the students spruced up the cinema and made it active again, screening films and hosting debates, theatre classes and soccer games. Other areas of the building were designated as study halls for the students, most of whom attended various high schools in central Rome.
“I used to see them studying on the roof,” said Anna Belloni, who grew up across from the theatre.
In its day, the cinema had all the modern amenities, including a roof that opened during intermission to let out cigarette smoke. When it was left open during the hot Roman summers, before air-conditioning, the nearby apartment balconies were often crowded with neighbours sneaking a free show.
After the occupation ended in 2014, a core group of students continued their protest on the streets, showing movies on various historic buildings. Now the films are shown in an outdoor cinema in Piazza San Cosimato, a large square in Trastevere.
One sultry evening this August, Valerio Carocci, 25, the spokesperson of the association founded to safeguard the America, rallied several hundred sweaty Roman filmgoers to the cause.
“This battle is only won among us, it’s only won in Trastevere and in the territory, with constant dialogue among all of you,” Carocci said. In an interview, he described the nightly screenings as the “occupation of the Cinema America from the outside.”