CINEMA SHRINE Cressandra Thibodeaux serves the indie-film faithful with 14 Pews. |
Over a long Thanksgiving weekend, Cressandra Thibodeaux decided to do some upkeep on the nearly century-old former church that she runs as a movie theater. But that day, being Thanksgiving, meant her supply options were limited to Walmart. So she learned a lesson in how to paint concrete.
“I learned a lot about concrete painting very quickly,” she says. “Cleaner, primer. All these steps. I just felt I had to do it that day, when I had the time. Now I know …”
Such is the nature of operating 14 Pews — a small, independent, single-screen theater that seats around 90 people — in the age of the multiplex. Thibodeaux has been its executive director for nearly a decade, taking over the space at
800 Aurora after the
Aurora Picture Show vacated the simple, wood-plank 1926 church in 2010.
The space has since hosted concerts and private events. But its primary function is as a theater largely dedicated to films that don’t make the Sunday afternoon box-office reports. Thibodeaux two years ago put the space up for sale when she took a new job in Portland. But she quickly returned and rededicated herself to a room that requires a fair amount of upkeep, both physically and with the programming it hosts.
The past year has proven both challenging and exhilarating. And the programming at 14 Pews has evolved and adapted along the way. Getting a larger audience
Early last month, Thibodeaux was contacted by a film distributor asking if she’d like to screen “Everybody’s
Everything,” a documentary about the rapper Lil’ Peep (Gustav Ahr), who died of an opioid overdose in 2017.
Thibodeaux jumped on the opportunity. She’d felt moved to find films to book at 14 Pews that touched on depression and also the current opioid problem in the States. Discussing the film, she tells a story about her mother, 86, who 14 Pews regulars know as the theater’s beloved bartender.
Her mother had already dealt with cancer treatment three years ago. Then last year, she broke her shoulder. Thibodeaux says 10 days of painkillers caused her mother withdrawal pains that dwarfed any caused by the injury.
“She doesn’t drink, she doesn’t play board games,” Thibodeaux says. “She doesn’t have an addictive personality. And (snaps) just like that: She’s dealing with withdrawal. So I’d been thinking about addiction when I got a call about that Lil’ Peep film.”
Thibodeaux booked it. Fortyeight hours later, the show was sold out. Worth noting, 14 Pews name is literal: The space is intimate. Nevertheless, a second show was booked and sold out. Nine screenings were eventually set.
That film was part of a busy November for the theater. Thibodeaux was so struck by the traffic that she did a year-over-year comparison to November 2018. Last year, she hosted two events at the theater during the month. This November, she had 25.
Her year is ending with successful runs for the documentaries “Raise Hell: The Life & Times of Molly Ivins” and “The River and the Wall” as well as “The Report,” a feature with Oscar buzz from Amazon Studios starring Adam Driver about a Senate investigation into the CIA’s Detention and
Interrogation Program. It was the only theater in Houston showing the film.
And, while 14 Pews traditionally has been open only on weekends, “The Report” has been running several days this week.
Outrage on film
In discussing movies, Thibodeaux toggles between cathartic outrage and comfort. A documentary filmmaker as well as a theater owner, she’d filmed Nikki Araguz Loyd, a transgender and marriage-equality activist, who was found dead in her Humble home last month.
Thibodeaux also seeks a reprieve from these hotter issues. She’s become obsessed with the Bollywood films starring Shah Rukh Khan and is pondering a midweek celebration of his work, which is copious. She’s also found other ways to book beyond the weekends. The theater screened “The Report” mid-week as well as weekends.
The topical nature of “The Report” prompts Thibodeaux to bring up “The Act of Killing,” a film about Indonesian mass killings in the 1960s. Her mother was so appalled, she sat out her bartending duties that night.
“She wanted no part of it,” Thibodeaux says.
“Some of what I do here is trying to see the bright realization of this ugliness in the world,” she says. “And the other part is just me doing shots. Is it healthy? I don’t know.”
She’s accustomed to having people walk out on occasion. A week ago she screened a stage production of “Fleabag,” writer, director, actor Phoebe WallerBridge’s theatrical origin for her award-winning TV show.
“Only one person walked out,” she says. “It happens now and then.”
Such is the nature of provocative cinema. She’s looking to continue this productive run into 2020, though right now her sole big booking is a Bechdel Film Festival, with its focus on cinema by and about women.
Thibodeaux points out, “a lot of our audience is middle-aged women. I don’t know if that’s because they came for the programming or if I changed the programming for them.”
Milking the cow
But a niche audience has proven sustainable, as filmgoers who feel underrepresented at the chains look for an alternative. On the flip side, Thibodeaux has to get in the queue for bigger films, sometimes having to wait out their run at the big-chain theaters or Landmark’s River Oaks Theatre, as was the case with “Raise Hell” and another hit documentary, “The Biggest Little Farm.” “Sometimes they want to milk a cow another week,” she says. “So I have to wait until they’re done milking.”
Hers is a pursuit without a lot of space for mistakes. She mentions minor repair jobs for which she took the lowest bid; a decision she regretted when the work had to be done a second time. Yet the interior of the building remains richly resonant and durable, with its wood planks that, she says, absorbed decades of vocal music when the building was home to the Sunset Church of Christ and its choir. She’s not sure of the building’s origin, but points out a line a few feet above the floor that runs the interior perimeter of the theater. Clearly it endured one significant flood.
But she says the space remains sturdy and just requires some general upkeep: cleaning up after private events and public screenings.
When our photographer walks by a pew, she finds a sticky spot on the 94-year-old hardwoods.
Asks Thibodeaux, “You feel that?”