An afternoon of movie memories, Hollywood nostalgia, and a long-awaited homecoming to one of the Bronx's grandest movie palaces.
A little movie palace magic. Let the show begin!
There's something wonderful about returning to a place you haven't seen in years and discovering that, despite all the time that's passed, it still looks just as you remember it. Growing up in the Bronx, I was fortunate to have one of New York City's most magnificent movie palaces practically in my backyard: Loew's Paradise Theatre on the Grand Concourse.
 |
| Cinema Treasures |
The Paradise was only a few blocks from where I lived and close to my elementary school. To me, it wasn't some famous architectural landmark or historic attraction. It was simply our neighborhood movie theater, a place where I spent many happy afternoons watching movies, sometimes more than once. Of course, being the classic film enthusiast I am today, I now appreciate just how extraordinary this theater really is.
The Paradise also holds a special place in my family's history. My mother, Geraldine, attended movies there in the 1960s and even graduated from high school on its stage. So when I learned I could step inside this beautiful old theater before its restoration, I knew exactly who I wanted to bring along. For a few weeks, I'd been hoping for an opportunity like this. I couldn't wait to walk through those doors again, revisit a little piece of my childhood, and see the theater in all its glory. And judging by the crowd gathered outside for the open house, I certainly wasn't the only one.
Opened on September 7, 1929, Loew's Paradise was one of the five legendary Loew's Wonder Theatres, magnificent movie palaces built when theater owners weren't content to simply show a picture. They wanted to give audiences an experience they'd never forget.
 |
| Cinema Treasures |
 |
| Cinema Treasures |
Designed by architect John Eberson, the Paradise is a spectacular example of an atmospheric theater, meant to transport audiences into another world before the movie even began.
|
| Cinema Treasures |
Eberson transformed the auditorium into a 16th-century Italian Baroque garden bathed in Mediterranean moonlight, complete with a deep-blue twilight sky, ornate balconies, classical statues, decorative columns, cherubs, chandeliers, hanging vines, cypress trees, and even stuffed birds! The original safety curtain depicted a Venetian garden, completing the illusion of an enchanted outdoor courtyard.
 |
| Cinema Treasures |
 |
| Cinema Treasures |
The Paradise opened with approximately 3,900 seats, making it one of New York City's largest movie palaces, second only to Radio City Music Hall among the city's great theatrical showplaces. Originally conceived as a Paramount project under the name Venetian Theatre, the Paradise eventually became part of the Loew's family of Wonder Theatres.
But audiences weren't simply treated to a movie. The Paradise also featured live entertainment and music from its magnificent Robert Morton Wonder Organ.
Reports say the balcony had singing canaries, the outer lobby featured a baby grand piano, and the interior boasted gilded Renaissance-style furniture, alabaster lamps, and a grand staircase inspired by one in England.
And that beautiful, atmospheric ceiling? Its stars were reportedly arranged in constellations matching the night of Marcus Loew's birth. I remember those stars... sighs. There are no stars today, but they’ll be put back up there.
Today, the Paradise is a designated New York City landmark, and it's easy to see why. As a child, of course, I wasn't exactly studying the Baroque moldings; I was there for the movies! But seeing everything again as an adult, I found myself marveling at details I probably walked past a hundred times without giving them a second thought.
A Kindred Spirit Among the Chandeliers
One unexpected pleasure of the afternoon was meeting Russell Moss, a wonderful gentleman. Russell is a talented singer, actor, and writer who also manages Manhattan's Triad Theater. He's quite the entertainer, performing everything from Bobby Darin and Elvis Presley to Frank Sinatra, accompanied by his own big band orchestra. He also brings that wonderful old-school showmanship to his retro-inspired revue, A Night of Cool, celebrating the music and style of a bygone era.
Well, you can imagine what happened when two people who adore classic Hollywood, acting, and vintage entertainment started talking! We hit it off immediately. Russell was funny, warm, and an absolute delight to chat with. What began as a conversation about the Paradise turned into a wonderful exchange about acting, classic films, historic theaters, and our shared appreciation for keeping these magnificent old places alive.
I told him about growing up just blocks away, the movies I'd seen there, and how much it meant to return after so many years. Naturally, I also shared one of my little fantasies: if I ever had a million dollars to spare, I'd love nothing more than to buy an old movie palace, restore it, and hold my very own classic film festival. And since Russell manages a theater himself, he knows a thing or two about what it takes to keep a historic entertainment venue operating.
He shared some fascinating stories about the Paradise, including its original name, Venetian Theatre, and kindly took a few lovely photos of me inside.
A Little Walk Through Paradise
Join me, my mom, and Russell Moss for a little stroll through the Paradise, as Russell shares some of the theater's fascinating history. I grew up when neighborhood theaters were still a big part of everyday life. In the Bronx, we had the Paradise, the RKO Fordham, Loew's Valentine, and several other places to see the latest releases. There were drive-ins, too! I went to the movies so often that, honestly, I couldn't begin to tell you which theater I saw every single film in.
But a few Paradise memories have stayed with me. I remember seeing my first movie here, Disney's Cinderella, in one of the smaller auditoriums after the theater was divided into multiple screens. I also remember seeing Superman (1978), Back to the Future (1985), and a double feature of Trading Places and Terms of Endearment in 1983! Another favorite memory was seeing The Goonies (1985) with my little sister.
And then there was The Lost Boys (1987). Oh, boy. I was absolutely obsessed with that movie!
The vampires, the soundtrack, I couldn't get enough of it.
The last movie I distinctly remember seeing at the Paradise was Coming to America (1988).
It's funny how certain movies become attached to particular places in your memory. I can't always remember what I wore, what the ticket cost, or exactly where I sat, but I can still remember the excitement of walking into that theater.
And those afternoons meant more to me than I realized at the time.
Long before I began writing about classic films, studying Hollywood history, or falling hopelessly in love with the movies of the 1930s, '40s, and '50s, I was simply a Bronx kid who loved going to the cinema. The Paradise was part of that education, even if I didn't know it yet.
A Walk Down Memory Lane with Mom
Of course, one of the nicest parts of the afternoon was sharing the experience with my mother. While I was busy remembering my childhood movies, she traveled even further back, recalling the films she'd seen there in the 1960s and the day she stood on that very stage for her high school graduation.
 |
| historictheatrephotos.com |
|
Mom, back at the Paradise stage where she once celebrated her high schoolgraduation. |
 |
| My Mom down stage left! |
I sat down myself for a few minutes, and I have to say, those old theater seats were still pretty comfortable! Then I looked up.
That extraordinary blue ceiling, the towering architectural details, the statues, the decorative balconies. It was all still there. For a moment, I was a kid again. I admit, I got a little emotional. Actually, if you watch my video, you'll probably hear it in my voice.
 |
| The ornate cherub fountain inside Loew's Paradise Theatre. |
A Grand Old Lady Gets Another Chance
Like so many of America's grand movie palaces, the Paradise eventually fell victim to changing times. As the Great Depression took hold, the lavish stage shows and vaudeville performances that accompanied its early movie programs disappeared, leaving the Paradise primarily a first-run movie house.
In the 1970s, the enormous auditorium began its transformation into a multiplex. First divided into two theaters, then three, and finally four screens by 1981, the Paradise continued showing movies until its closure in 1994.
After several years of sitting empty, restoration efforts began in 2000, and the theater reopened in 2005 as a live entertainment venue, hosting concerts, comedy, boxing, and special events. It later became home to a church before eventually falling silent once again.
Now, after all those chapters, this grand old lady is preparing for another comeback! Plans are underway for an ambitious restoration, with about $50 million earmarked to transform the building into the Paradise Performing Arts Center, a nonprofit cultural destination that will once again welcome audiences for performances, entertainment, and community events.
I can't tell you how happy that makes me. I've always had a tremendous affection for historic movie theaters. These buildings represent a time when going to the movies was about more than simply watching something on a screen.
The architecture, the atmosphere, the anticipation of finding your seat, the lights going down, and sharing the experience with a room full of strangers were all part of the magic. When one of these theaters disappears, we lose something that can't be easily replaced. That's why preserving places like the Paradise matters so much.
Standing there with my mother, thinking about her graduation, the movies she watched in the 1960s, and my own childhood afternoons in the 1980s, I was reminded of how many generations have passed through those doors.
For more information about the theater's restoration and future plans, visit Paradise Performing Arts Center.
Photographs & Sources
Unless otherwise credited, I photographed the Paradise Theatre and its interior during my visit to the open house. Additional historical photographs and vintage advertisements are credited to their respective photographers, archives, or original sources.
