Beirut’s cinemas… from “great enchantress” to fading glow

Lebanese, along with their Arab neighbours, have long celebrated Beirut as the “Paris of the East.” In every street lies a tale of revival tied to the city’s diversity, its districts, its sectarian mix, and its passion for culture and art.

Cinemas held a starring role in Beirut’s streets. Since the early 20th century, theaters became architectural and cultural landmarks, windows through which Lebanese people gazed into magical worlds. From black-and-white reels to “Technicolor”, foreign imports and local productions blended with the city’s own stories, weaving a collective memory for generations in search of joy and freedom.

Cinemas first pulsed in “Sahat al-Burj” (today’s Martyrs’ Square), then flourished in their golden age along “Hamra Street”, before their star dimmed with global changes and the rise of shopping malls. Multiplexes folded cinemas into commercial complexes, stripping away their old identity and replacing it with larger, glossier models. Many old theaters became empty warehouses; a few found daring dreamers who tried to revive their former charm through “cultural” initiatives.

Beginnings… action!

When cinema arrived in Beirut in the early 20th century, Sahat al-Burj was the capital’s beating heart. In 1919, “George Nicolas Haddad” opened the “Cosmograph,” which 10 years later became the launchpad for the “Empire” theater empire. Screenings featured short, silent American and European black-and-white films, accompanied by live performances from small local bands. Sometimes Western classical music mixed with Arab melodies, producing a unique soundscape unlike any elsewhere.

At one of the earliest shows, a group of young men panicked and fled the theater, convinced the train driven by Hollywood cowboy star “Tom Mix” was going to burst out of the screen and crush them. Their story spread through Beirut’s streets, drawing long queues eager to see the “Great Enchantress” from which trains seemed to leap into real life.

When “Nicola Kattan” joined as a partner, “Cosmograph” became “Empire,” transformed into a grand cinema and performance hall that hosted concerts, plays, and screenings with a capacity of over 1,200 seats.

Empire’s success pushed “Youssef Aftimus” to open the “Grand Théâtre” in 1929. Designed by architect Jacques Tabet (the same who built the St. George Hotel on Beirut’s seafront, the city’s first fully concrete building). With 630 seats, balconies, and an orchestra pit, it opened with the French musical “No, No, Nanette”. The theater brought in the latest American and later Arab productions, as well as live legends like “Mohammed Abdel Wahab”, “Sabah”, and “Umm Kulthum”. But the Lebanese Civil War transformed it into many things: a venue for erotic films luring fighters and truant boys, a field hospital for nearby battles, even a temporary brothel. Cinema shook Beirut’s conservative society, introducing new languages, fashions, lifestyles, music, and even secret dates under the gaze of the “silver screen”.

Politicians, feudal lords, and elite families also frequented cinemas. Theaters welcomed everyone, while nearby cafés became hubs for political debates, social talk, and fashion displays inspired by European imports and French magazines.

Alongside Empire’s classic allure, the “Crystal” cinema and theater emerged as a modern rival. Beyond films, now with synchronized sound and live performers, it became a political platform used by parties for rallies and conferences, debating everything from border disputes to mezze and arak. Beirut kept pace with the world like a glamorous woman seducing people to come learn joy and freedom. Cinemas premiered global hits too, like “Capitol Cinema” in 1965, which hosted the hollywood mouvie of “The Sound of Music”. Families flocked there, their dreams rising with Beirut as it became a Middle Eastern cultural capital.

That same year, architect “Joseph Philippe Karam” built the futuristic “Egg” Dome in Beirut City Center. The hall was never completed, instead becoming a wartime bunker, later a cultural landmark, and eventually a site for festivals and lectures.

The golden age… Hamra street

Overcrowding in downtown and aging buildings pushed investors toward “Hamra Street” in Ras Beirut. In the 1950s and 1960s, Hamra blossomed into a hub of economic and cultural renaissance. Dubbed the “Champs-Élysées of Beirut,” it hosted modern, luxurious cinemas and cafés that became magnets for intellectuals, elites, youth, and fashion lovers.

The pioneer was “Emile Dabbagh”, owner of the iconic “Horseshoe” Café, who in 1957 opened “Hamra Cinema”, sleekly designed and showing the latest colour films. Soon followed others, including architectural gems like the “Piccadilly Theatre”, where “Dalida” and “Fairuz” performed musicals, and “Saroulla Cinema”, which specialized in American films. By 1960, UNESCO ranked Lebanon “second worldwide” in cinema attendance per capita, averaging more than 22 visits per person annually.

Each Hamra theater had its specialty: “Marignan” for “art” films, “Khayyam” for Bollywood cinema, “Strand” for Arab films, others for European works, and “Pavillon” for erotica. Beirut was the Arab world’s cinema capital, Hamra alone boasted 14 theaters, while more dotted Achrafieh, Msaytbeh, the Museum area, Burj Hammoud, and Sin El-Fil, easing pressure off downtown.

Cinema becomes the scene

The Civil War delivered a devastating blow. Downtown theaters were bombed, burned, looted, or seized for military use. Projectors and reels were stolen, later screened in makeshift cinemas run by fighters or thieves in Beirut’s outskirts, where children paid a few coins to binge-watch multiple films.

In war-torn Beirut, cinemas flipped roles, no longer showing films, they “became” the spectacle, ruined halls, wild trees growing inside shattered walls, buildings turned into barricades. For many, theaters outside downtown became havens to escape shelling, underground, air-conditioned halls where people could dream briefly away from daily violence and blackouts.

Hamra cinemas still screened Bruce Lee and James Bond. After shows, kids spilled onto the street practicing karate kicks or imitating Bond, booming “Bond… James Bond”. The sidewalks turned into carnivals of movie-inspired youth, families eating hamburgers or sipping Americanos, while street stalls sold stolen perfumes, books, and magazines amid the chaos of ongoing battles.

Politics and the hero

Even during war, politics never left Beirut’s cinemas. Parties summoned supporters to theaters in Achrafieh and Hamra. Leaders shouted fiery speeches, transforming themselves into stars of the daily “war movie” while audiences became extras. The charismatic leader on stage replaced the silver screen, uniting crowds who moved like puppets at his gestures.

Elsewhere, bombs exploded in cinemas, killing and wounding hundreds. Gunmen sometimes forced moviegoers to fill sandbags at frontline positions, with some shot in crossfire. Fear pushed many to avoid even the “strongest” Arab and foreign films.

Lebanese cinema mirrored the war too, replacing militia fighters with heroic security men; muscular, chased by beautiful women, often blond European spies. Their names avoided sectarian hints; they were simply men fighting evil for a burning homeland.

After the war

When peace came in the 1990s, East Beirut youths crossed into Hamra to discover the cafés and theaters they had only heard about. “Modca”, “Café de Paris,” and “Wimpy” resembled East Beirut’s “Sassine cafés”, while “Sofil Cinema” screened films without harsh censorship cuts.

Old theaters soon gave way to mall multiplexes. Legendary director “Maroun Baghdadi”, who had brought Lebanese cinema global acclaim, died tragically. Producers shifted to Egypt and the Gulf, chasing new markets with long TV dramas that echoed dubbed Mexican soaps.

Yet revival efforts persisted. Festivals bloomed, the “Beirut Film Festival”, “Shams Festival”, and “Karama Beirut Human Rights Film Festival”, which brought international screenings. In 2006, “Metropolis Cinema” was born, traveling through neighborhoods before settling in Mar Mikhael. Meanwhile, “Colisée Cinema” in Hamra was restored as a cultural venue.

The stories of Beirut’s cinemas are the stories of Beirut itself-its dazzling cultural rise, its deep war scars, and its constant ability to reinvent.

From the “Cosmograph” in Sahat al-Burj to “Metropolis” in Mar Mikhael and the reborn “Colisée” in Hamra, the big screen remains a mirror reflecting the city’s history, dreams, and cherished memories.