Garage Sale Sunday

We’re having a great big garage sale on Sunday!

GarageSaleNo advance price lists, but if you’re keen to nab yourself some movie memorabilia head on down on between 2pm and 5pm on Sunday April 19th.
Things we will have include:


We are not selling fittings/tech equipment/furniture – or anything listed with Heritage Victoria, such as the original amplifier. And no, we are definitely NOT selling that Marx Bros. lamp, it’s a family heirloom! But if you love memorabilia and want another chance to get an Astor Choc-Ice, then we’ll see you Sunday :)

George’s Farewell Speech – Sunday April 5th 7pm

After long term Astor staffers Steve and Jock finished up their intro, George said a few words. For anyone who missed the event, here’s a transcript of what George said and some pics of the great night, too.

Star Gate IMG_4693

Thank you Steve and Jock – without your fine efforts we could not have run The Astor, Thanks also to Tara and Andy for your invaluable services.

We think The Astor is the most amazing cinema in the world, and part of what makes it that is having the most amazing staff in the world.

End of show Closing night staff IMG_4763

Thank you to all past and present staff- you have been wonderful.

Also thank you to all our suppliers: Shimon from Tel Aviv – who has made our cakes since 1984, the same delicious cakes for all that time, and to Chandra the Bliss Ball lady, Dairy Bell who supply the key ingredient to our Choc-Ice and many others we have been trading with since 1982.

Candy bar Elliot and Edward IMG_4717

Thank you to all the film companies who have supported our somewhat unique programming style and have facilitated the many special events, including Q&A’s, new print and digital restoration re-releases.

Final Session doors opening IMG_4704

Most importantly thank you to our audience, without you our mission would not be fulfilled.

End of show - closing night regulars IMG_4769

We are asked many times “What makes the Astor Experience?”

Recall a scene in Jacques Tati’s wondrous Mon Oncle – a man is in a barren field with a rickety old oven making pastries with flair and relish. Groups of kids repeatedly go back to the man – a memory that will stay with them forever, not because they like pastries, but because that man made them with Soul. Soul is the essence, the same soul that Toto and Alfredo put into Cinema Paradiso’s projection room, its patrons never forgetting that experience either.

final sessionn audience IMG_4726

Soul is the essence; it is what you take away as part of the memory of your experience here.

We are pleased to announce that Palace Cinemas have acquired our business and they have undertaken to maintain The Astor Experience.

Please give Palace your support, after they begin operations in this hallowed space in June.

Eve Marzy Tribute IMG_4633

Thank you for your attendance, loyalty and support over the last 32 years.

Now, as I start projecting my favourite movie, 2001: A Space Odyssey for the last time, I bid you all a fond farewell.

final session 2001 title IMG_4732

The End – George Florence.


Goodbye; Thank You

I’ve written this post a thousand times over in my mind. But now that I am actually sat down with my laptop the words I am typing are very different. I know I have a lot to say. And perhaps what’s most difficult about that is knowing that I quite simply won’t be able to say it all; there is a lump in whatever the typing version of my throat is. When we started this blog, and I took on the task of maintaining it – with stories, a love for film, cinema-going and programming information – I never thought about this moment. To be honest, I never thought about any of it finishing.

But here I sit, hunched over my laptop, drinking tea, smoking cigarettes and scrabbling for words. If I were to put it in a letter it might be easier to say. Please read what’s below knowing that it’s as candid as I know how to be, and that I’m not writing it to create anything other than the most honest goodbye I can say. I am truly humbled and want to say thank you. I also want to express something of the immense joy I have experienced in my time at The Astor.

Dearest grand old dame, dearest George, dearest audience, dearest reader,

Thank you.

I’m not very good at saying goodbye. Some years ago my life took an unexpected turn and I lost something that was precious to me. It was painful in a way I hadn’t encountered before and I simply didn’t know how to deal with it. What happened next was that I felt overwhelmed and the only thing I could think of to do was to go home. So I bought a one-way ticket to Australia and turned up in a town where everything was different and where my home didn’t exist anymore.

I felt completely lost.

Then I saw a call out for people to help write the Astor’s e-news. Some of my most formative, memorable and exciting cinema experiences were at the Astor – to this day I tell people about the first time I stepped inside its doors and how completely it filled me with wonder. George and I started emailing. Jet lagged and lost in Melbourne’s South Eastern suburbs I had found a connection. And then the emails morphed into a real life conversation.

When I first met George it felt like we’d known each other forever. Some friendships are just like that. We spent a few hours talking about film, life, and how one had shaped us both. After the curtain closed that night, George offered me a job in the ticket box. I’d worked in cinemas before but this was The Astor and I knew right away that it was the beginning of something special.

Every day after that, as ticket selling gave way to so much more, the emptiness I’d been feeling began to disappear and joy filtered into all of the spaces inside me that I thought could never be filled. I felt found and it was honestly a saving grace.

Over the years that followed I built some of the most remarkable friendships I imagine I will ever have; with staff, patrons, and cinema. It was like falling in love just when I thought my heart was broken beyond repair.

I can’t tell you how difficult this goodbye is for me, as I know it is for so many others. I don’t claim to have a greater connection to that feeling. The only thing I can claim is my experience of being a part of The Astor as George created it. That experience has been life changing. It has been so immense that my entire being has been altered; for which I am grateful, humbled and proud.

There’s too much to talk about in trying to define what that experience has meant to me singularly, but I can say this: this goodbye has to be about saying thank you. I want to thank George for everything – simply everything. I want to thank everyone at the theatre, and everyone I worked with over the past five years. I want to thank everyone who ever came to the theatre and enjoyed a show, and those who couldn’t but wrote heartfelt messages to us anyway.

It has been a privilege and a joy to maintain this blog just as it has been a privilege to experience what I have at The Astor – as a cinema-goer, as a member of staff, as a friend and as someone who found something beautiful at a time in their life when they thought they never would.

Mine is a goodbye that only has its voice because of everything George, his team, his cinema and the film-going community in Melbourne has given rise to. And for this I thank you most of all. It has been an absolute pleasure and a huge honour to speak for such a remarkable and unique cinema-going experience.

Goodbye; thank you.

Tara. xx

A little bit of Astor Love

As we creep ever-closer to the end of our calendar, wonderful memories fill our collective cinema-going hearts. Sometimes those memories manifest into words. While it’s especially difficult for me to find my own words right now it’s an enormous comfort to read yours. Always humbling, always heartwarming and forever the most rewarding part of a passion that I have been privileged enough to call my job.

IA Astor Media aNobody told her what was coming as she landed in Melbourne. Nobody told her how the city would twinkle at night like fairy lights in a Christmas tree, how each encounter felt like a present. Nobody told her about that magical brick building on top of Chapel Street. Nobody told her she’d try all the couches on its first floor just because she could, or hold someone’s hand watching Taxi Driver, or dance with them, uncontrollably, unapologetically, unafraid on the stairs after The Blues Brothers. Nobody told her she could fall in love with a person as much as with a place, and that she’d do both. Nobody told her how the Astor whispers stories – the way matches crack before a fire – or how a flame could dance in hundreds of eyes at the same time, keep flickering as ephemeral companions take separate ways, burning still once the doors close. Nobody told her how her story would go, but nobody could have known how good this chapter would be.
Thanks for lighting the match.

– Astrid Voorwinden

maxresdefaultOn my 21st birthday last year I decided to quietly celebrate by seeing whatever the Astor happened to be playing that night. I was delighted and surprised when, shortly before my birthday, it was announced they would be having a special screening of Jennifer Kent’s independent Australian horror film The Babadook (due to technical issues disrupting the last screening). I had heard many positive things about the film beforehand, but a limited release had lead me to believe I had missed my chance to see the film in cinemas.
The evening of my birthday I sat, alone, watching the film – none of my friends brave enough to join me. The mix of classic horror elements with a more psychological aspect to the mother’s struggles to protect and raise her child inspired me, and I am currently spending the year writing an honours thesis in Film and Screen studies on the themes contained in the picture.
Thank you, Astor Theatre, for giving cinema lovers a welcoming environment in which to experience films that inspire and move us, either for the first time or to revisit in the proper format.

– Angus Attwood

Gas_PumpMy favourite Astor experiences:
1. ‘Grindhouse’
2. ‘Gas Pump Girls’
3. Having my first kiss with the lady who is now my fiancé

– Max Gettler

Though I will put down some of my own words, we’d still love to hear more from you. So if you feel like writing 200 words (or thereabouts) on your experiences at the Astor, please do. You can email them to us at: rsvp[at]astortheatre[dot]net[dot]au

Wake In Fright

May you dream of the devil
And wake in fright

With these ominous words from an ancient curse, so begins the nightmarish outback odyssey that is Wake In Fright (1971). Based upon the 1961 novel by Kenneth Cook, Wake In Fright tells the sorry tale of school teacher John Grant (Gary Bond), who eagerly awaits his end-of-year vacation from the single classroom school where he is contracted. The school is located in Tiboonda, an outback dustbowl so small that to call it a town would be most charitable. For his summer holidays, John plans to travel to Sydney by way of Bundanyabba. The Yabba, as it is more commonly known, is somewhat larger than Tiboonda (which isn’t saying much), where the main activities seem to be drinking, gambling, more drinking, and more gambling. John, a well-mannered, prim and proper sort, belongs in The Yabba about as much as a hamster in a lion’s den. But no matter, John’s trip to The Yabba is merely an overnight stop en route to the salubrious beaches of Sydney – or is it? No, for if it were, this would be a very short story – and a much happier one. Everything that can go wrong does go wrong for John Grant as he finds himself staying in The Yabba longer than expected, confronted by the unsettling “hospitality” (read: passive aggression) of the locals, and very much done in by his own foolishness. But maybe John will get to Sydney after all… if the waking nightmare that is The Yabba doesn’t get him first.


Forget about your picture postcard portrayals of Australia, because Wake In Fright is possibly the most unflattering depiction of life in this country ever committed to film. Under its entry in Leonard Maltin’s annual film guide, it is said that Wake In Fright is not likely to be endorsed by the Australian tourist commission. So one can know if the folks in the Oz tourist trade were relieved when Wake In Fright disappeared from cinemas for many years (until a restoration from a 16mm print courtesy of Jamie and Aspa at Mu-Meson, brought it back to the big screen in 2009), because if the misadventures of John Grant were viewed as widely as the adventures of Mick ‘Crocodile’ Dundee, potential travellers Down Under would be staying away in droves. That said, if I had a short list of Australian films to recommend, particularly to visitors from overseas, Wake In Fright would be on the list.

The character John Grant is clearly an outsider looking in, so it’s only fitting that he is portrayed by a foreigner (Gary Bond was English, as is his Grant), and even more appropriate that the film was directed by another outsider, Ted Kotcheff, who is Canadian. Following on from Wake In Fright (released with the title Outback in the United States), Kotcheff stood at the helm of the American football classic North Dallas Forty (1979) and the celluloid debut for the John Rambo character, First Blood (1981). He is no stranger to crafting brutal, disturbing cinema.

It is only fair to warn potential first-time viewers that this film contains an extremely harrowing kangaroo hunt sequence (as a long-time vegan myself, I found this especially disturbing). So I can only imagine how grotesque the experience must have been for Ted Kotcheff, himself a vegetarian at the time, now a vegan, as his cameras followed one of the regular night-time kangaroo hunts through the Australian outback. Much of the footage acquired was deemed by Kotcheff himself as being far too graphic to show an audience (I shudder to think how that must look).

Even with the film as it is, Australian audiences raised on a television diet of Skippy the Bush Kangaroo (1967-69) must have been mortified when Wake In Fright first hit cinemas in 1971. And as somebody who has read Kenneth Cook’s 1961 novel upon which the film was based, yes, I can tell you the kangaroo hunt figures in the literary version, too, and it’s even more graphic than what is depicted in the film, if you can imagine (the day after reading the book, I was in a health food store and noticed tins of pet food made from slaughtered kangaroo, disturbing me to the point where I had to immediately leave the store, and I don’t disturb easily. Kenneth Cook sure could write.)


So long as you can withstand the sheer brutality of the infamous kangaroo hunt sequence, Wake In Fright is a most rewarding exercise in existentialist cinema, one that rivals Sam Peckinpah’s Bring Me The Head of Alfredo Garcia (1974) for the title of grimiest, sweatiest film of all time – you can see the dust and perspiration settling on the screen. Gary Bond is superb as John Grant; with flawless verisimilitude, he portrays a man who, due to his unfavourable surroundings and circumstances, regresses from his civilised self into something more closely resembling a borderline savage.

Wake In Fright also boasts a memorable performance from Donald Pleasance as the dodgy town doctor, in addition to appearances from Chips Rafferty (his final role in a feature film) and Jack Thompson (one of his earliest). The film takes place in a “bloke’s world” – it’s one of the blokiest films you could imagine, full of fistfights, gambling, shooting and boozing. There are few females in the film, and Janette (Sylvia Kay) is portrayed with derision. This opens the door for the aforementioned aggressive male bonding rituals shown in graphic detail. There is also intimate male bonding that is only ever implied, though no less bewildering, given the circumstances.

Wake In Fright is a powerful film not only because of what it shows, but also for what it suggests.

Recent years have seen a surge of popularity for the horror genre, but if you want to see a real horror story, forget about vampires, werewolves and zombies: Wake In Fright is the real deal, all the more disconcerting because this sort of thing could and does really happen. It is indeed a rare opportunity to catch the film on the big screen, in 35mm print format, an event that no ardent cinephile should miss. And if you haven’t already done so, do read Kenneth Cooks’ novel, a short if worthwhile read to be digested in one sitting. May you dream of the devil… and wake in fright.

Written by Astor regular Mark Vanselow.

Wake in Fright screens Sunday January 25 7pm.  All tickets $14

You say eccentric, I say romantic…

What makes your favourite indie cinema different to the multiplex? Sure it’s the programming, and the prices. And a lot of other ‘stuff’. But the main thing, the big thing, is the people. Whether it’s a rep house or an art house, it’s different because the people who run it and the people who populate it are different. Some call them weirdos, nerds and eccentrics. As both an employee and an attendee of such places, I’d call us optimists, and romantics.

Despite the many reasons I think we all go to the cinema, the truth is that it’s different for all of us. Some of us just love movies. Others like the social experience. Some people happen to live nearby and others come in because it’s raining. But I still think that most of us want to feel something that the multiplex can’t and won’t abide. It might be a sense of belonging, of community. It might also just be anything other than alienated and unwanted by the world.

How we feel and who we share our experiences with is important. In the ’90s I used to go to the Lumiere with friends, but I’d visit the Trak on my own and the Astor was an experience I always shared with loved ones. My first cinema job, at the tender age of eighteen, was at the Kino (back in the Dendy days). It was the first time I felt like I belonged somewhere. Sure the manager used to ask me to please not to dance on the candy bar, but a little groovin’ while ripping tickets was fine. Being honest about which films to see was encouraged and no one was admitted into the auditorium after the first fifteen minutes of photochemical film had rolled. I learnt everything I know about Pedro Almodovar over conversation and cigarettes in the foyer.

Fast forward to today and even if smoking in foyers has well and truly become a thing of the past, my favourite conversations and my film education is still taking place one or two steps away from an auditorium. Every cinema that fosters an environment that film lovers can feel is their own, and can really feel at home in, is special. And it’s something worth holding on to.

Recently the New Beverly Cinema underwent some management changes. You may have read about it on the LA Weekly blog.

Well, today things are looking less than optimistic. Today, Julia Marchese, the former face of the New Bev (and a lovely, passionate cinephile), put this up on her own blog. 

She has also shared her film Out of Print on vimeo. We had hoped to screen a 35mm film print at the theatre, once it had finished its anticipated festival run. But, given how things have turned out so far, that looks doubtful.

I don’t mind saying that watching this documentary – the first thing I did when I woke up this morning – brought tears to my eyes. And not just because I’m a romantic. But because I know the stories Marchese tells intimately. They are the stories we share here at the Astor. They are the stories that impassioned, optimistic film nerds know all too well: love, hope and disappointment.

Pleading with the studios not to junk prints, to let you book existing prints, to stop mastering crappy DCPs –  and to please for the love of God stop blaming everything on online piracy – all the while trying desperately to ensure the longevity of what you love – hopeful that a white knight landlord will share your vision without making commercially minded changes to the operation of the place – oh, these are battles we know all too well.

No one in a rep house has ever done what they do for the money, to exploit patrons. Let’s be clear: the only kind of exploitation a rep house is interested in is the kind that was once printed onto photochemical film.

But the saddest thing for me, watching Out of Print, was the painful knowledge that even when Joe Dante says film prints are important, the studios won’t listen. When it comes down to it, corporate studios and landlords aren’t romantics – they’re capitalists.

While I don’t want a cinematic life that excludes the option to see a double bill of Gremlins and Gremlins 2 on 35mm and 70mm blow-up at Christmas time, my best ideas are anti-multiplex anarchy stolen from Cecil B. Demented. Perhaps I ought to write to John Waters for more ideas…

In the interim, if you love rep, watch Out of Print and, if you live near a rep house, go see what you can while you can. We eccentrics try to stay optimistic but even the most romantic among us get downtrodden at times.

Written by Tara Judah for The Astor Theatre, with love and appreciation of The New Beverly Cinema, and sisterly respect for the passion Julia Marchese and her colleagues have brought to the city of LA.


The stats are in – Fliks Cinema Census

Talking about online movie piracy in Australia isn’t a beloved topic. It’s not difficult to understand why when the official rhetoric is only interested in treating those who ‘illegally’ download online content as criminals. Though I’ve never personally considered watching a crappy quality torrent as equal to grand theft auto, this is what many of the anti-piracy campaigns would have you believe.


Unlike industry execs, however, we don’t think it’s the greatest threat to the film industry – the studios are plenty capable of junking prints and jacking up consuming prices, thus removing much movie magic, all by themselves.

There are a number of stats out there that tell us about who’s engaged in piracy and why. The most recent online study has come from the people at with their Cinema Census. Asking and identifying some key issues, the Fliks Cinema Census turned up the following results that really get to the heart of what we do here at the Astor:

* 62% of survey respondents said they download because legal alternatives are not available for the films they want to watch.

* 79% said cinema ticket prices were too high

* 73% said they prefer to watch films in a cinema

* 82% want mobile phones banned and 50% said people talking in cinemas was the most annoying cinema habit.

What this data reflects is exactly the same as what we experience as a cinema. Every film we screen is available to see on another format by the time we screen it. As a rep house, all our content is either available through legal home entertainment formats or illegally online. But we don’t have empty seats, and that’s because the environment and the experience of seeing a film are equally as important as the film itself. We also don’t charge $20+ for cinema tickets. High price tickets are exclusionary, making it difficult for low-income earners, students, pensioners, the unemployed and others to see films. It isn’t true that only rich people want and should get to enjoy cinema-going. Of course, we do still have to make money to keep the doors open. But there’s a balance. Currently it sits at $16 / $15 / $14.

Finally, and most significantly, it’s the experience that matters. If people prefer to watch films in a cinema it’s because the experience is unmatched by home entertainment. That has to do with a number of things that begin with picture and sound quality and the social experience of sharing something unique with others, but it’s also extends to the ideal that the cinema is free from real life distractions – including mobile phones and talking.

The stats are out. The Cinema Census website even has a pie chart. Check it out, come watch great films on our BIG screen, and please turn off your mobile phone and refrain from talking during the movie. Thanks.

Written by Tara Judah for the Astor Theatre.