Cathay cinema in Raub, Pahang, in the 1960s. Photo: K. Mohan
Cinema-going was a cherished family affair during my primary school years. It was a form of entertainment which I looked forward to, coming from a family that was a true patron of the Tamil film industry.
Being the seventh of eight siblings, I was in the lower half of the family hierarchy, where the other three were girls. The elder four were much older, and an age difference of five years or more was quite significant during our younger days. This meant I often found myself in the company of my three sisters.
As I walked to school along Cheroh Road, Raub, I would always look out for a huge tree at a strategic junction where a wooden frame was hung.
It displayed the poster of the film being shown that day. It was a joy for me if it was a Tamil film, as I knew there was something to look forward to that night.
My elder brothers would help buy the tickets in advance, which could be quite a hassle. The crowd queuing for tickets could get unruly, especially for box-office hits. One might even end up with a sprained wrist while navigating one’s hand away from the tiny ticketing window.
Showtime was at 8 o’clock. My parents, along with the younger four of us, would walk to the Cathay cinema along Lipis Road, which was about 1km away. Snacks were a must as part of the experience.
Kuaci – sunflower seeds in a red and white paper packet costing five cents each – were perfect for munching through the movie. (In the 1960s, Malaysian currency was in dollars and cents.)
Back then, the theatres didn’t have air-conditioning – just fans and wooden seats. Being exceptionally skinny, I often had to share a seat with my younger sister. I considered myself lucky if there were any vacant seats nearby; otherwise, it could get quite uncomfortable as the film went on.
When the movie ended around 11 o’clock, we would all head back home like a mini battalion. My mother would mix a warm cup of malt drink for each of us before sending us off to bed. This was our standard movie-going routine during primary school.
I should mention some of the memorable movies we watched. MGR films were always a full house. The highlight was seeing him hop on a motorbike and ride at full speed to rescue his mother and his sweetheart, Saroja Devi, from the villain Nambiar.
The audience in the lower terrace would erupt in cheers and whistles, showing off their full whistling skills as others clapped and cheered MGR on.
In the 1960s, Tamil films took some time to reach Raub, unlike today. By the time they were screened, some of the reels would often be defective, causing disruptions midway through the movie. The whistling maestros in the audience would keep whistling until the interruption was rectified.
Besides Tamil movies, I had a memorable experience watching an English film in Standard 5. The movie was Guns Of Navarone. When it played in the cinema, it was the talk of the town. The hype was so great that even my mother wanted to watch it. We went as a family, but my mother was left disappointed after the show.
She said she couldn’t understand a single word they were saying. She already had hearing problems for years, and on top of that, she felt the actors barely opened their mouths when speaking. She decided it would be her first and last time watching an English film.
Another movie that remains etched in my memory is an Elvis Presley film, Fun In Acapulco, which I watched when I was in Standard 6. My eldest sister and brother wanted to watch it at the Cathay cinema and decided to take me along.
It was a night show, and we bought reserved seats; tickets cost $1.25 each. Reserved seats were at a higher level compared to the first- and second-class seats on the ground floor.
It was raining heavily that night. Halfway through the movie, we heard some noise from the lower terrace. People were getting restless, and some were standing up.
We soon realised that the monsoon drain in front of the cinema was overflowing, and floodwaters had begun seeping into the first- and second-class areas.
We decided to call it a day and waded through six inches of floodwater on our way home.
My brother, Appu, wisely told us to walk more towards the centre of the road to avoid falling into the monsoon drain. Fun In Acapulco wasn’t so fun to watch in Raub after all!
These are some of the memorable moments of cinema-going during my younger days. They remain vividly documented in my mind.
