Call it what you will, but it won’t be the Castro

When I read the news about the Castro Theatre changing operators, my very first thought was, “Where’s Peaches Christ gonna go?”

I’ve loved the macabre drag legend (a.k.a. Joshua Grannel) since the Midnight Mass screenings at the Bridge, a single-screen cinema near Laurel Heights where Grannel was the manager. Peaches was the first one to exploit “Showgirls” cult potential.

If you haven’t seen the film at Midnight Mass, you have not seen the film. Period. When the Bridge closed and became batting cages, Peaches played several venues, but the Castro became Midnight Mass’ new home. What better place for a connoisseur

of camp than “the cathedral” of San Francisco’s LGBTQ epicenter?

I last saw Peaches in person in October at the San Francisco Mint. On Jan. 12, Grannel made a YouTube video announcing the cancellation of a longdelayed Castro show due to omicron spikes. One week later, the Castro announced Another Planet Entertainment would take run the venue.

Another Planet has been called an “independent” company. But that’s a tough sell when they boast an annual revenue of over $100 million. True, the family-owned, San Francisco-based company’s income doesn’t match that of TicketMaster overlord Live Nation ($2.7 billion in revenue during the third quarter of 2021); but that’s like calling In-NOut Burger and Chick-Fil-A “small, independents” just because they aren’t Burger King. (To Another Planet’s credit, founder Gregg Perloff ’s political contributions are far removed from those of In-N-Out and Chick-Fil-A.) Another Planet does Outside Lands every year and now runs seven venues, but the truth is that the only thing “independent” about it is that they operate a San Francisco club with that name.

So what does that mean for our beloved Castro Theatre?

Much of my cinematic education was formed in the seats of this place, which I consider holier than Grace Cathedral. The programming was unpretentious and unapologetic in how it connected the dots. It’s where “The Adventures of Robin Hood” with Errol Flynn was preceded by “Rabbit Hood” with Bugs Bunny. It where the Noir City film fest showed how beautiful this city looks when bathed in monochrome.

If you’re anything like me, you have a lifetime’s worth of fond memories beginning with pipe organ clap-alongs and ending with Escape from New York Pizza — extra points if you caught an actual Castro screening of “Escape from New York” in-between. Whether up in the balcony listening to the projector or down in the pit beneath the glorious golden chandelier, one could kick up your heels (unless someone was seated in front of you) and down over-salted popcorn with artisan chocolates watching everything from sing-a-long “The Wizard of Oz” to the Spike & Mike festival.

I once saw a screening of “The Pink Panther” where star Robert Wagner regaled us with a tale of David Niven’s frozen penis. I saw John Waters explain the hilariously disgusting genesis of “Pink Flamingos.” I saw a panel with Francis Ford Coppola, George Lucas, Walter Murch and Caroll Ballard, wherein Coppola boasted of them all “still married to our first wives,” which was really awkward for then-divorced Lucas.

And so many heckling crowds. Hell, I have a credited speaking role in a film (Marielle Heller’s “The Diary of a Teenage Girl”) that had a star-studded premiere there!

I don’t want to believe those memories will vanish like tears in the rain, but Another Planet’s plan to revamp a gay safe space/temple to cinema gods into just another mainstream performance venue does not fill me with confidence. It strips away what makes the place unique. And after we’ve already lost the Bridge, the Coronet, the Red Vic and others.

I don’t want “just another” anything in my hometown.

For over a century, the Castro has survived innovations (the advent of sound, color, digital projection and automated ticketing) and competing formats (TV, home video, video games, streaming) only for COVID to give it a living death via corporate takeover. I love true indies like the Roxie and 4 Star, but they aren’t the Castro.

Now, I can already hear the screeching: “You don’t know what’ll happen in the future!”

True, but the Kabuki and New Mission give me a good idea. They were both taken over by Sundance and Drafthouse, respectively, only to see expensive bougie luxury take over under the guise of “indie” celebration. From where I sit, the Castro’s premiere of “The Matrix Resurrections” — attended by Mayor London Breed, who cameos in the flick — was a prelude to Another Planet’s takeover: It envisioned the place as a corporate shill-house rather than the obvious choice for the Frameline film fest.

The last film I recall seeing at the Castro was the original “Poltergeist.” Throughout the pandemic, I always held out hope of having another chance to get lost in a film under that great chandelier; possibly something by Paul Thomas Anderson, since he personally hosted San Francisco premieres of “The Master” and “Inherent Vice.”

Yes, it’s possible the Another Planetrun Castro could be great. But nothing about its plan implies the sort of place where I’d walk out of a Peaches Christ show with an armful of free movie posters before getting a drink at Twin Peaks.

And that’s a damn shame.