Last Wednesday a jewel in the crown of Cork's cultural life celebrated its a significant birthday. The Kino cinema has been delighting and sometimes dismaying Cork film-goers since it first opened its doors ten years ago, making arthouse films available for big-screen viewing.
Despite its inconspicuous facade, the Kino quickly established itself in the consciousness of Cork's cinema-going public. The first film to be officially shown was Shine, the story of piano prodigy David Helfgott. It proved a lucky choice, as Geoffrey Rush's Oscar-winning performance ensured long queues outside on Washington Street.
Even the proud owner of the new venture, the unflappable Mick Hannigan, must have arched an eyebrow in surprise that shortly after opening, his one-screen cinema was full night after night.
I was among those who queued to see Shine. Still at secondary school, I must have been one of the youngest film-goers to enjoy what were then novelties in the Cork cinema-going experience: seats as comfy and cushy as you could wish for, with ample leg-room between each row and the option of buying freshly-brewed coffee. For thousands of Kino regulars the potent aroma of Maher's fine coffee is as much a part of the Kino experience as the films themselves.
I continued to attend regularly throughout the last two years of secondary school, the films sometimes taking precedence over my studies. In fifth year, I persuaded upon my mother to write a note excusing me from school an hour before the final bell so I could see a one-off screening of David Lynch's mad and marvellous black-and-white masterpiece, Eraserhead.
The transition to university meant considerably more free time, much of which was spent, of course, in the cosy confines of the Kino. But despite the reasonably priced tickets, my regular trips to the Kino were beginning to put a strain on my personal finances - ie, the money I wheedled out of my parents. A part-time job was needed. I sent a shower of CVs was to shops and businesses around the city. I got one call: from the Kino! I had always suspected that God existed in some shape or form and now I knew. His name was Mick Hannigan and he owned the Kino.
My job in the cinema made me the envy of many. "You just sell tickets and then you get to watch all those films for free, don't you?" is the gist of questions directed at Kino employees. Not quite. A Kino employee sells both tickets and coffee, sometimes simultaneously. He or she must also ensure the lights in the auditorium have been switched off before the opening credits roll.Only then is our work done.
The Kino distinguishes itself from other cinemas not just because it shows a better and more eclectic mix of films than the multiplexes, but also because of the relaxed relationship between staff and customers. The compact size - one screen, 188 seats - helps the customer feel at home. "Do you mind if I leave my shopping here with you while I go into the film?" is a question I've often been asked.
Complaints too are voiced without hesitation. It's nothing unusual to have someone emerge from the auditorium during a film, hurriedly informing me, "It's a bit stuffy in here, you could turn down the heating", or "I think the picture isn't as sharp as it should be - you might tell the projectionist".
The summer just past brought a new FAQ. While Kino might sound arty and sophisticated to the average Corkonian, it sounds nothing of the sort to people from countries like Poland and Slovakia, where kino means, simply, cinema.
On a number of occasions during the summer stocky young men with the shaved head and tight, pinched facial features typical of many Central Europeans stepped gingerly off Washington Street into the foyer of the Kino and began to look around cagily. Having examined a number of film posters with a look of perplexity they approached the ticket counter and asked, "Do you show Polish films here?" No. "Do you show films with Polish subtitles?" No again. "This is not Polish cinema?" they said as they retreat toward the exit, not quite understanding why the building has a big sign outside the door with Kino emblazoned on it.
Of course it's not just arty or specialist films which are shown in the Kino. Mass-appeal films such as Roberto Benigni's Life is Beautiful, and more recently March of the Penguins, have been screened, as well as popular classics such as Casablanca and Night of the Hunter.
It's probably this mix of the popular and the worthy which has seen the Kino become such an integral part of Cork cultural life during the past decade.
That is is thriving after ten years is testament not just to the commitment of its founders, Mick Hannigan and Una Feely, and the dedication of its friendly and efficient staff, but also to the superior celluloid predilections of a large number of Cork film-goers.
Happy birthday, Kino. Here's to another 10 years.