
Though it may possess more than one screen, the Carlton theatre is now my neighbourhood epicentre. Nestled behind my apartment building, I squint, trying to read the titles on the luminescent marquee from the sidewalk. The films are always independent, sometimes foreign and most likely to have done the festival circuit.
The large glass doors open into a carpeted lobby similar to a Cosby sweater. The acne-prone pubescent occupying the ticket window smiles as I tell him to have a good night when he slides my paper ticket under the window.

Old TIFF paraphernalia line the halls and the coming attractions posters leap off the walls with names and faces I have yet to know. The theatre is long and narrow with uncomfortable seats and cup holders that smash your knees if you're not careful. I wonder how they stay in business when the theatre is usually only speckled with couples and the odd solo viewer.
But when the lights dim and the sound goes up, I feel the same contentment I did in the Vogue Cinema. There is something strangely reassuring about the archaic nature of these theatres…..a place where you can dose off and feel safe under the dimmed lights.
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