Curtains Up on KL’s Grand Old Cinemas

ANN MARIE CHANDY | 22 May 2025

Coliseum Cinema still stands on Jalan Tuanku Abdul Rahman today and is the longest running cinema in Kuala Lumpur. Photo: Ann Marie Chandy

LONG before streaming on your TV, before cineplexes took over, and before snacks and movie tickets could be ordered with a tap on your phone, going to the movies was quite an event … even right here at Kuala Lumpur’s standalone cinemas – magnificent, single-screen temples of dreams that fed the imaginations of generations.

While many of these places have dimmed their lights for good, a few are still standing – Odeon, Coliseum and Rex (now reimagined as REXKL) – reminders of a time when the cinema wasn’t just something you did on the weekend. It was the weekend.

Movie buff Davin Arul has many fond memories of going to the cinema with his parents and grandpa back in the day when tickets were as cheap as 60 cents! Photo: Facebook

For veteran journalist/film critic Davin Arul, the magic of old cinemas lives on in the crackle of kuaci underfoot, the pungent perfume of tauhu bakar, and the dimming of lights that signalled the beginning of cinematic escape. He recalls sneaking into early matinees, enduring itchy bug bites, and being swept away by movies like Goldfinger, Dracula, or Shaw Brothers’ latest kung fu epic.

Davin says: “My parents and grandfather shaped my moviegoing habits. We regularly went to cinemas like Cathay and Pavilion on Jalan Bukit Bintang, Rex a short hop away, the Odeon on Batu Road, and occasionally Federal and Capitol in the Chow Kit area.”

There was a ritual to it all. You knew your cinema, your seat, your snack. He reminisces: “The theatres were divided into ‘upstairs’ and ‘downstairs’ (balcony seating and the general hall). Downstairs was usually divided into three: the frontmost block were the cheapest seats, 60 to 80 cents; the middle block cost RM1.25 while the back section furthest from the screen was RM1.60 to RM1.80. The literally ‘atas’ seats cost RM2.30.

“Wherever we sat, though, the feeling when the lights dimmed and the adverts and trailers started was just ... magical to a little kid, and that thrill of being immersed briefly in an alternate reality has largely stayed with me for over 50 years.”

For Davin, standalone cinemas were self-contained dream factories and snack bars. “You could buy anything from sotong kering to asam boi to prawn keropok to Rowntrees fruit pastilles, Mars bars and Treets (anyone remember those?) from the stalls outside or at the in-house concession stands. Unlike today, there was no restriction on bringing ‘outside food’ inside. Night shows, especially, were like watching a movie in ‘Odorama’,” he jests. “With all those aromas of different foodstuffs wafting around.

While the movies were a draw, the buildings themselves held just as much magic.

Gary Yeow has a penchant for old buildings and wishes more will be done to document their histories. Photo: Gary Yeow

Gary Yeow, designer and lecturer, reminds us that cinemas (or theatres, as they were called back then) weren’t just places to catch a flick – they were architectural statements. Think Art Deco with local infusions. From Odeon’s fancy flagpole-and-columns to Rex’s post-war practical chic, these buildings weren’t just functional. Back then, a big, air-conditioned cinema with neon lights and double-storey seating was a communal flex – a sign that cities were rich, and its townsfolk, modern and cultured.

“Architecture is a byproduct of economy,” says Yeow, which explains why these glorious facades rose when cities had cash and ambition to spare. Designing and building cinemas required not just vision but also financial muscle. You didn’t just put up any old building and call it a cinema. You hired an architect. You paid craftsmen. You invested in dreams.

Old cinemas like Madras and Cathay from a different era. Photos: Facebook (Caleb Goh + Malaysia Old Times)

Many will still remember names like Cathay, Rex, Federal, Pavilion, Majestic, Coliseum, Odeon, Madras and Capitol. Yeow believes these buildings held stories longing to be told – and wishes more had been done and will be done to document these tales before its too late.

Some, like Madras (which screened mostly Chinese movies! and would have stood somewhere near the Pasar Seni LRT station today), he says, hinted at deeper cross-cultural ties … and was possibly named after a spiritual figure from South India, a nod to solidarity and friendship across borders.

The Majestic in Pudu is long gone, demolished in 2006, but during its heyday stood as a strategic hotspot. In its place today stands D'Majestic Place hotel.

Once beloved Rex, rebuilt post-war by Booty, Edwards & Partners (BEP), has been reborn into REXKL, a cinema-turned-hub where the ghost of kuaci past meets the designer coffees of the present.

Coliseum, that regal survivor on Jalan Tuanku Abdul Rahman, is still screening movies today as Lotus Five Star (LFS) Cinemas – Malaysia’s oldest cinema (a grand 105 this year!) and still going strong! Just down the road, Odeon also still stands tall, though its projectors have long gone quiet.

These cinemas were more than just movie halls or architectural landmarks – they were communal havens, woven into the everyday tapestry of city life.

Kamil Othman fondly remembers watching movies with his classmates as far back as primary school, and still has a collection of newspaper advertisements from yesteryears tucked away in a treasured scrapbook. Photos: FB + Kamil Othman

As Kamil Othman, former FINAS chairman and cinephile, recalls: ‘Cathay was the spot when I was a kid – Bukit Bintang was buzzing back then even without skyscrapers. Cinemas were our community hubs.

“We didn’t just watch James Bond – we became Bond. Whole classrooms would go, and we’d spend days talking about and re-enacting scenes from the movie. It brought everyone together – Malay, Chinese, Indian – no matter what race.

Cinemas were also our window to the world. “Hollywood became our teacher – and to a certain extent our brainwasher! I thought the ‘Red Indians’ were the bad guys because of Cowboy movies,” Kamil says. “It wasn’t until secondary school, when we learned about Wounded Knee, that we realised how unfair the portrayal of Native Americans was. Then came the movie Soldier Blue (1970 American revisionist Western by Ralph Nelson), which flipped everything.”

Kamil remembers watching The Good, The Bad and The Ugly while he was still in Form 3. “The queue was so long we had to buy tickets from scalpers. Seven ringgit! That was a king’s ransom! Could we afford it? Well, not really. That’s why we’d always bring an older cousin or an uncle.

“And that’s how I ended up watching Chinese and Hindustani films. My aunty used to drag us along. Actually, we were her alibi so she could go on dates. We got to watch Bobby, Haathi Mere Saathi – and eat KFC across the road after!”

While it wasn’t exactly frowned upon to go to the movies, Kamil says he wasn’t allowed to go as often as he wanted to, which made him resort to telling a few white lies. “I had to tell my mother I was going to the library. Which… technically wasn’t a lie. The cinema was, after all, my reference library!”

Even as times change, these memories linger – friends bonding, family outings and shared laughter. Those old cinemas weren’t just buildings; they were memory machines that gave generations their first glimpse into the wider world.

So why not catch a film at Coliseum? Snap a selfie outside the Odeon … or wander into REXKL to explore its new lease on life. The buildings may be old, but the memories? They’re always “coming soon”.

The Art Deco inspired Odeon Cinema on Jalan Tuanku Abdul Rahman, then and now. Photos: Facebook + Ann Marie Chandy

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