Rekindling the light of a lost picture house
Staring at the enduring ornamentation on the ceiling, one searches for a sense of the Theatre Royal, and its former spirit, as a smalltown 20th-century cinema.
The motif is one of the few interior remnants of the original picture house, built in 1915 and believed to be the oldest New Zealand provincial cinema still standing.
Cast your eyes in any other direction and you will find the jetsam of the theatre troupe that called the venue home for much of the past 20 years; props, posters and bright costumes.
Just as visible are the dour scars of neglect and abandoned aspirations, failed attempts to rejuvenate the Royal – be it as a town hall or a gym.
But what Gary Griffin-Chappel sees is potential. He can see his community coming together under that roof for an occasion once common in Raetihi – a night out at the movies.
The Theatre Royal will host a film screening for the first time in 45 years on April 27, the culmination of a decision made two years ago to return the weathered building to its cinematic roots, through renovations and revelry.
Griffin-Chappel, who chairs the charitable trust that owns the venue, enjoys throwing a party. A chef by trade, he has worked at London hotels and led the catering team when Sky Stadium first opened in Wellington.
He and wife Lyn moved to Raetihi, which is nestled between Whanganui and Tongariro national parks, six years ago. They bought the homestead of John Punch, the town’s first settler and sawmill baron, who also built the Theatre Royal.
Griffin-Chappel runs the lunches in schools programme in nearby Ohakune, and took an interest in both the Phoenix Players and the theatre shortly before the troupe folded.
“So we said ‘well, what else can we do with this place?’ And obviously, it was originally a cinema. So the idea was let’s get it back to being a cinema at some stage, but also make it more of an entertainment venue.
“I just think it would be such a shame for a building of this magnitude to just fall into ruin, when you could actually make it become a destination.”
Through grants, fundraising and two key benefactors, $110,000 has been raised in the past 16 months to renovate the theatre entrance and stairwells, while a local farmer donated seasoned logs for a 7.5m by 3.5m frame to support a stretched fabric screen.
Guidance was sought from film-maker Graeme Moffatt, who in 2022 helped restore Dannevirke’s Regent Cinema after it lay dormant for a decade. Moffatt sourced a suitable secondhand projector and surround sound system, and donated a Mac computer with about 150 old movies on it.
Since the 2014 closure of Kings Theatre in Ohakune, the closest cinemas to Raetihi are the Embassy 3 multiplex in Whanganui, 88km away, and The Majestic in Taihape, which is closer but has fewer screenings.
But Griffin-Chappel believes trying to replicate a conventional cinema experience in Raetihi is unlikely to succeed. He wants to lean into the venue’s history and make screenings of classic pictures special events, likely held once a month. Accessing contemporary films would come at a cost of $85,000 for a modern projector, a need for high-speed internet, and expectations for seating and comfort the venue can not yet provide.
Theatre Royal will show movies from before 1974, avoiding copyright infringement.
This includes pictures from the silent era and classic Hollywood, but also extends to early James Bond films and popular musicals, such as The Sound of Music, that sing-along screenings could be built around, or patrons encouraged to dress-up.
“We've got a piano there, we just need a pianist. I've found a guy who does a Charlie Chaplin impersonation. So we could do a Charlie Chaplin evening.
“Whenever we do anything, we always have food at the end of it. So we have a supper. So people can stand around and talk like they used to do back in the day when this was first built.”
The trust’s ambitions extend to a licensed bar upstairs and a full kitchen and new bathrooms.
Griffin-Chappel is eager to meet with members of the Thompson family, who owned the Royal for 60 years, part of their five cinemas in the lower North Island, and is hopeful of obtaining artefacts and photographs that can be displayed. Seating is a trickier proposition.
The Royal has hosted a number of concerts, from Brendan Dugan and Dennis Marsh, ABBA, Bee Gees and Queen tributes, to comedy nights and Ruapehu College rock shows, and there’s a lot of desire to keep the theatre as multi-purpose. This rules out permanent tiered seating. A concertina system, with a small footprint, would be ideal but also very expensive, he says.
For now, they will make do with a nostalgic selection of second-hand seats from the Waiouru Army Museum theatre.
The restoration work has been met with a mix of enthusiasm and cynicism from the community, says Griffin-Chappel, acknowledging the theatre’s past trials have been tethered to those of the town.
There has been talk and plans of revitalisation in Raetihi since 1995, and it has amounted to little for the township of 1000 people.
Even its most-photographed landmark, Rātana Church, has fallen into disrepair. The footpaths of the main road are achingly wide, seemingly trying to keep scale with the epic breadth of Seddon St.
Its design dates back to oxen carts bringing logs to the sawmills and needing room to turn around. It is understood to be the widest street in the country that doesn’t have a centre island.
A group of boys were whiling their time photographing log-bearing big rigs as they roared by. Their tally for the morning so far was six. “A lot of tourists do come through the town, it’s just a shame it’s not a little more attractive for people to see,” Griffin-Chappel says.
“But why do this place up while the town is what it is? This place is separate to the town in that respect. It shouldn’t be reliant on the town being done up to keep the theatre going. It should be about the uniqueness of the building in a town of this size.”
Christine Valverde, who volunteers at Information Gifts across the street, says she has already responded to a social media post calling for cinema volunteers.
“I can’t wait for them to screen movies again. I was going to joke ‘do volunteers get free entrance?’ But no, we’ll pay – I’d be more than happy to pay to see movies in there.”
She and her husband moved to New Zealand from Philadelphia 20 years ago, living in Raetihi for the past five.
A chance stop at the Caltex led to them falling in love with the area. “It’s a great community. The people are wonderful.”
Paula Charlton, one of three partners who runs Volcano Vibe Collective, an art store and community art centre on Seddon St, backed the trust’s vision for the theatre and Griffin-Chappel’s commitment.
“Unless it’s used, it’s never going to work. He’s doing really well to get it refurbed.”
Charlton, who has lived in the town since 2003, says anything that encourages folks to get dressed up for a Saturday night out is welcome, but accepts there will be a few doubters.
“We’ve also been talking about a community hub on the back of Uenuku getting their settlement from the Government, but we couldn’t even decide whether to use an old building or to buy a new one.
“It’s just Raetihi. I’m sure it’s the same in all little towns. But I support Gary; he’s a really hard worker, he’s determined to give it his best and make something for the town.”
Between the cinema, Dinosaur House, a new gallery in the historic Bank of New Zealand building, and community’s effort to build a river walkway, she felt the town was in good stead. “The ABBA night [at the Royal] was one of the best nights ever, dancing in the aisles, you know.”
Graeme Moffatt’s latest documentary, Paddlewheels On The Wanganui, will premiere at The Theatre Royal on April 27, as part of a re-opening celebration for invited guests that will also include a screening of This Is New Zealand.
‘ACity of the Dead’’ was the heading on one letter to a Manawatū newspaper in August 1942. The reference was to the effects of a rigorous wartime blackout in Palmerston North, and the delay of the local authorities in lifting it.
Gradually extended over 1941, the blackout was partly a response to German shelling of the phosphate-producing island of Nauru in December 1940.
It was given impetus by Japan’s bombing of Pearl Harbour a year later and then by Japanese submarine action in Sydney Harbour in late May 1942.
The blackout involved a vast reduction in lighting from houses, shops, offices and factories, as well as vehicles and street lighting. It was overseen by a ‘’Dominion lighting controller’’. Mr C.V. Day was Palmerston North’s lighting controller, Feilding’s mayor, T.L. Seddon his equivalent.
The objective was primarily to reduce the ‘‘glow’’ from populated areas which might be visible from the sea, though blackout rehearsals also involved flyovers by planes to check visibility from the air.
As well as the Home Guard, there was an Emergency Precautions Scheme (EPS) which allowed for the appointment of wardens for the ‘‘control and discipline of the population’’.
Palmerston North was divided into blocks, each under a head warden supported by a team of 10 men.
They were to familiarise themselves with households in their area so that locals would know who to turn to in an emergency. In practice, they were mostly used to police the blackout.
The blackout became increasingly onerous and more strictly enforced. The permitted wattage of light bulbs was gradually reduced. Street lights were shrouded. Cars were required to drive with lights on dip and, in an emergency, covered by two layers of newspaper.
Smokers could be fined for striking a match and lighting up in the street, though in practice few were.
Women got out their sewing machines to make blackout curtains for private homes. Local stores stocked up on blackout materials. Hopwood Hardware advertised 36-inch-wide blackout paper for 6p a yard, while other shops promoted blackout torches and rear bike lights.
There were blackout-themed movies, plays and songs (The Blackout Blues). Dances often had at least one ‘‘blackout dance’’, with, one surmises, associated shenanigans.
In Wellington there was a reported increase in ‘‘both amatory behaviours and excretion’’ under cover of darkness. Palmerston North’s citizens appear to have been better behaved, its newspapers free of reports about the fouling of streets.
Palmerston North women were nonetheless nervous about being out in the blackout. Returning home from a dance in January 1942, three women thought they heard footsteps behind them and decided to hide behind one of Collinson and Cunninghame’s shop windows. There may have been a degree of inebriation, for one of them fell against the window, breaking it and receiving cuts. It was reported that several frocks were damaged by the broken glass.
In a tribute to the effectiveness of the blackout in Palmerston North, Mr. L.G Hogg of Rongotea said it was impossible to tell where the city was from his district. All the usual ‘‘glow’’ had disappeared.
The Standard reported in March 1942 that only a few households did not ‘‘play the game’’. The worst offenders were the army and the Public Works Department.
Initially the blackout was a novelty, reinforced by a sense of identity with Britain’s wartime hardships.
Some activities seemed rather jolly. When Feilding had its blackout trial in December 1941, a whole range of emergency services were put to the test.
Public buildings were ‘‘set on fire’’, bridges were ‘‘bombed’’ and families ‘‘bombed out of their homes’’. Feildingites ‘‘rather enjoyed the experience and entered into the scheme with goodwill’’.
But the novelty soon wore off. Manawatū newspapers, which had initially supported the need for the blackout in Palmerston North, ‘‘a supremely important railway centre’’, soon changed their tune.
‘‘Lift This Blackout’’ headlined the Manawatū Times in August 1942. It was dangerous and bad for morale, it argued, and inconsistently enforced. Comments were sometimes made about trains stopping at Palmerston North’s darkened station with their blinds drawn – only to pass the fully lit shunting yards.
Correspondent ‘‘Lux ex Tenebris’’ pointed out that Palmerston North had been slow to introduce the blackout. ‘‘Then, in the usual Palmerston North manner they went the whole hog and blackened the city lights completely. Just at the time when other cities were realising the danger to life of too severe blacking out.’’
Wellington, despite its port, was a ‘‘blaze of light’’ compared with Palmerston North, said another report.
Eventually new regulations were issued in August 1942. The rather unfortunate word ‘‘brownout’’ was used to describe the looser regulation and introduction of zones. In the local area, towns such as Foxton, Tangimoana, Marton, Bulls, Sanson and Rongotea would be in a coastal zone where the existing blackout would remain.
Elsewhere, hoods were removed from street lights as long as the night glow was not visible 10 miles or more offshore. By mid-1943 most lights were restored beyond the coastal zone, with the proviso that people must be prepared to black out if sirens sounded.
This was not the end of blacking out. In August 1943 Palmerston North’s street lights had to be extinguished after 11pm. Electricity shortages and low coal stocks rather than enemy action prompted the electricity controller to institute savings targets. Some other towns were actually threatened with the cutting off of power if they exceeded allowable usage.
Power cuts were to be a part of life in New Zealand well into the 1970s, but certainly not on the scale of the wartime exercise.
Margaret Tennant is a public historian and former member of the Massey University History programme.