The "king of cinemas" is celebrating his ninetieth birthday and wants to let it be known.
To celebrate the longevity of the Grand Rex, Alexandre Hellmann, grandson and heir to the premises, invited nearly three thousand guests to a ceremony, between nostalgia and faith in the future.
A way for this entrepreneur to highlight the good economic health of his establishment, at a time when the sector is recording historic declines in attendance.
“Is it okay here, the line for invitations?
At the corner of boulevard Poissonnière, a compact crowd gathers for several tens of meters and waits in the winter cold
.
The lights of the newly renovated facade of the Grand Rex illuminate passers-by.
Three young women, long coats and bleached hair, crowd in front of the guards, explain that they are expected inside.
The employee retorts to them to queue, like everyone else.
Impossible to make their cinema: they turn on their heels, with a sulky pout.
Read alsoFor its 90th anniversary, the Grand Rex regains its memory
Red carpets, gilding, Cannes festival-style photocall, large golden letters "90" projected everywhere and toilets
"similar to those of a luxury hotel"
, according to the director of the establishment... Every corner recalls the
"premium" turn
»
started by this room in the 80s. At the time, the seventh art was already in crisis.
The gigantic rooms, acclaimed during the Roaring Twenties for their profitability, are replaced by multiplexes, considered more modern.
In the lobby with its rather flashy art deco decoration, a new crowd is forming around the minibar.
In the impeccably dressed crowd that clumps together, a few men in suits try to make their way, glasses of champagne in hand.
Each "guest" is entitled to a drink, thanks to a ticket in the colors of the cinema distributed at the entrance.
Everything is served in a plastic glass, while the usual sweets, stored on shelves, are chargeable.
Four waiters in uniform are busy behind the counter.
On their chests, the same gold letters “90” as those projected on the walls.
“Put away your restaurant ticket card, we won't take it
,” replies a waitress when a woman orders popcorn from her.
Read alsoFor its 90th anniversary, the Grand Rex regains its memory
On the scene of the atmosphere precisely, a master of ceremonies welcomes an impatient public, before launching a film which recalls the history of the place.
A floor of “reserved” armchairs fills up.
“You can stand on the sides, or at the back
,” tells us an usher in uniform, hair tied and a smile on her lips.
Our ringmaster is quickly joined by Alexandre Hellmann and Bruno Blanckaert, general manager of the establishment.
On the giant screen scroll the faces of the many Hollywood stars who have walked the red carpet of the Rex, during these previews which bring together fans in large numbers.
Quentin Tarantino, Patrick Dempsey, the stars of the blockbuster
Hunger Games
or the
Game of Thrones
series .
So many reminders of the central place that the Rex holds in the cinephile ecosystem.
The screenings give pride of place to commercial cinema, the one that still attracts the public in theaters.
On the projected images appear fans disguised sometimes as superheroes, sometimes as manga characters.
To support their euphoric speech, the two accomplices broadcast a few video capsules, promising a show.
The lights go out and on screen, Christopher Nolan's face appears.
The
Tenet
director - and author of Hollywood's most cherished films - swears, heart on hand, to adore Le Grand Rex.
He sings the praises of the Parisian hall.
The first, according to him, to have programmed it when he was only a
“little independent filmmaker”.
The sequence ends, the director reappears on stage, looking satisfied.
"He might come back to show us his next film,"
he promises.
If the cinema can today boast of being
“the largest cinema in the world”
(all cinemas of equivalent size have closed), it is in particular thanks to its conversion into a performance hall.
Rather than risking its receipts by programming unprofitable auteur films, the Rex chose to rent the hall for shows on "slow" days.
This is explained on stage, in a speech with accents of American stand-up, Bruno Blanckaert.
The septuagenarian in costume launches into the enumeration of his "misadventures" as a programmer.
From the time Nicola Sirkis offered to play his Indochina concert directly on the Grands Boulevards -
"I almost ended up in police custody"
, quips the director - on the evening when the British rock band Madness and their delirious fans boned a hundred seats in the great hall.
Blanckaert pauses and evokes another musical epic, this time with Madonna.
The American star would be completely "fan" of the place, he says, at the microphone.
"She came to sing eleven nights in a row!"
For this
“exceptional evening”
, the same promises on stage an
“exceptional surprise”
, an
“old friend of the house”
, who made his pop star debut at the Rex.
The master of ceremonies takes over, enjoins the room to make noise.
From the left side of the stage emerges a Christophe Maé in baggy and converse, who came to sing the three hits that made him famous in the 2000s.
“Where is happiness, where is it?”
, asks the singer feverishly.
In the audience, some spectators sink into their leather seats, laughing or embarrassed.
The evening ends with the screening of
The Fabelmans
, the latest feature film by Steven Spielberg, another heavyweight of Hollywood cinema.
The “exceptional” preview of this effective and consensual film seems to keep its promise.
In particular, he managed to fill the 2,700 seats in the atmospheric room.
This strategy - commercial - seems to pay off for the Rex if we believe the good attendance figures of the room.
Thanks to its
"all blockbusters"
vision , the establishment manages to avoid, but narrowly despite everything, the economic debacle that affects the rest of the cinema.
