Saunter down Sherbrooke Street and it will stop you in your tracks: the Empress Theatre, the only known remaining Egyptian Revival movie palace in Canada.

Built in 1927 and opened shortly thereafter (circa 1928), the historical building stoically looms above passersby who look up from the perpetual city bustle to the eyes of its two stone carved sphynxes, who observe the city from their perches atop its columns.

The Empress Theatre was designed by Quebecois architect Joseph-Alcide Chaussé with interiors by the Maltese-born Montreal artist Emmanuel Briffa, who also designed Montreal’s beloved Rialto Theatre on Parc among the many others.

In the beginning, the Empress Theatre was a glamorous movie palace that reflected the golden age of cinema, an era that Montreal particularly had a stake in. It was a mainstay of its time for Sherbrooke Street, one of the main arteries that runs through Montreal that has historically kept the city’s artistic blood coursing. Throughout time, it joined a litany of museums, art galleries, and music venues that served Montrealers.

Front Elevation, Empress Theatre: A blueprint signed by Alcide Chaussé in April 1927. | Image: Diagram Collection Site

In the 20th century, Montreal saw a movie palace boom, with theatres such as The Monkland (1930), The Capitol (1921), and Loew’s (1917), all offering a sense of otherworldliness until their demolitions for condos and office towers. What sets the Empress apart from the other movie palaces, however, was its Egyptian Revival architecture. A cultural phenomenon that spawned from the discovery of King Tut’s tomb by the wealthy British aristocrat Howard Carter in 1921, the Modernist style was a highly significant stream of design thought in the post-World War 1 era.

Like much of North America, Canada’s experience with the Roaring Twenties was a response to the devastation of the First World War. When the Empress Theatre was being designed and built in the ‘20s, Montreal, alongside the rest of the world, was experiencing breaks with the past in search for new forms of expression. From the rubble of the past came an excitement for the future and, more importantly, the belief in one.

One of the earliest photos we could find of the Empress before its front vertical signage was removed.

An interior shot of the Empress, colourized.

Adapting to the times

In its heyday, the Empress glimmered with life, laughter, dancing, music, and clamour. During cinema’s peak in the ‘30s, the Empress mainly hosted vaudeville and live shows until its popularity waned by the ‘50s. The rise of television replaced theatre-going as people increasingly stayed home, catalyzing its gradual descent that would slowly fizzle out over the next few decades.

We have to hand it to the Empress Theatre for its resilience and continually adapting to the times. What started as a hub for vaudeville metamorphosed into a place that could hold new forms of entertainment that people enjoyed. In 1963, the palace turned into a burlesque dinner show called The Royal Follies. And even when, as a burlesque club, the theatre closed down from immoral business (see: selling liquor) it re-opened again, though not without changes.

Needing to improve profitability, the company Cinelou Inc. that acquired the Empress decided to partition the theatre into two rooms. That was the start of its modern transformation into the cinemas that we know today. The renovations would allow for two showings of a wider range of films instead of merely one, enticing more audiences and, consequently, garnering more revenue for the theatre. Like any rebrand, the theatre was anointed with its new name ‘The Home of Blue Movies’ upon reopening in 1968, a striking contrast to the more regal ‘Empress Theatre.’ In The Home of Blue Movies, erotica played upstairs in ‘The Blue Room’ while conventional flicks showed downstairs in ‘The Red Room.’

October 30, 1943: Illuminated signs encourage support for the Canadian war effort through the purchase of war bonds. | Photograph: Bibliothèque et Archives nationales du Québec. Vieux-Montréal. Fonds Conrad Poirier, P48.S1.P9358.

The interior of the Empress Theatre in 1944 where employees pose. The background scenery depicts Trajan's Kiosk at the Temple of Philae in Egypt. | Photograph: Bibliothèque et Archives nationales du Québec. Vieux-Montréal. Fonds Conrad Poirier, P48.S1.10562.

Cinema V, circa 1989. | Photograph: Cinema Treasures

Changes and evolutions

Unfortunately these renovations meant compromising Briffa’s original interior. They required a concrete slab to replace the Empress’ stage proscenium, separating the balcony from the ground floor seating area in order to divide the palace. The ornate designs of early 20th-century movie palaces served to transport audiences away from the monotony of reality, promoting the value of theatre as a respectable art form as well as its cultural necessity.

During these renovations, the Empress also suffered another significant loss; Briffa had intentionally painted the ceilings blue with shining silver stars to further the illusion of a distant dreamland. The hand-painted ceiling, however, was compromised for the installation of an air conditioning system.

In 1975 the Empress underwent its final transformation to date, becoming Cinema V, the latest haunt for arthouse cult films. Reflecting the emergence of repertory cinemas in the ‘80s, for seventeen years Cinema V was a mainstay in the community up until a fire (from unknown causes) set the interior ablaze in 1992. The damages were too invasive and costly to repair, and for the last 33 years, the Empress has since been sitting in neglect.

Throughout the decades various measures have been taken to resurrect the Empress, but its revitalization has failed due to its magnitude and a lack of funding. In 1999, the Empress was bought by the city of Montreal and within the last year, plans to sell and transform the Empress into a mixed-use space for housing and commercial purposes have been circulating.

Will the Empress ever be rescued from its decaying fate? NDG residents still remain frustrated, all too habituated with the landmark’s stasis and the unresponsiveness to what is now becoming an age-old question. One thing remains certain:

If the Empress Theatre has always adapted to the times, then surely its arrested development is also an identity in itself—one that in holding up a mirror to the city, urges the community to take heed of its decaying state.

Inside Cinema V during the 2000s. | Photograph: FTW/CinemaNDG / Gerald A. DeLuca

The Empress in 2022. | Photograph: D. Benjamin Miller

Support our storytelling.

Be part of a growing audience of Montrealers who want stories like this.

SUPPORT THE MAIN

Kaitlyn DiBartolo

NDG's Empress Theatre survived a century of change. Can it survive neglect?