There was a time when going to the cinema was an authentic ritual. A liturgy that began long before the film did. Theaters had a soul, weight, presence, and personality.
The peak moment was the anticipation. That magical instant when the lights faded and silence took over the room. When you heard the rustle of the heavy curtains opening, as if they were revealing a secret, and then the miracle happened. The projector roared to life and a beam of light, almost tangible, cut through the darkness over your head to reveal new worlds waiting to be discovered.
Today, unfortunately, that magic has been packaged into clichéd black boxes. It doesn’t matter if you are in Madrid, Berlin, or Vigo: you enter spaces designed to be invisible, aseptic, and functional—designed so that you forget where you are as soon as the lights go out. And above all, designed so that the experience is fast.
At Curtas Festival do Imaxinario, we rebel against that coldness. We flatly refuse to put cinema in the basement of a shopping mall or in an identity-less multiplex, surrounded by the smell of franchises and cheap air fresheners. Cinema is not “fast consumption,” and the place where you watch it is not a mere container; it is a necessary accomplice.
For us, the festival cannot be understood without the Salón García. It is a matter of respect, of heritage, and of reclaiming the idea that the environment, the decor, and the acoustics are as much a part of the experience as the film itself.
A stage that was already here before it all began
To help you gauge the magnitude of this place, put yourself in the setting: 1884. When Salón García opened its doors, the Lumière brothers were still eleven years away from patenting the cinematograph, and Méliès had a long decade to go before scaring audiences with The Haunted Castle.
The story has substance. It all stems from the vision of Juan García Porto, a merchant and banker who “made it” in the Americas and wanted to bring the sophistication of the theaters he saw in New York back to his hometown. He envisioned one building, the Tertulia de Confianza, and another right behind it—a small Italian-style theater. He commissioned the project to master builder Manuel Pereiro, but fate is fickle: García Porto died in the city of skyscrapers in May 1884, just before seeing his dream completed.
But the true love affair with celluloid arrived in December 1930, when the Salón finally got its own fixed projector. The legendary “Mercantil cinema” turned curiosity into liturgy, forever transforming the social life of Vilagarcía.
If these walls could talk…
Saying this place has a memory isn’t cheap poetry; it’s a fact. The Salón has seen it all.
It’s not just films that have been projected here. Imagine this scene: when the Royal Navy docked in the estuary, this was the place where hundreds of British officers held their religious services. And not only that. In these very seats, the 1910 assembly was held that laid the foundations for the union of the municipalities of Vilagarcía, Carril, and Vilaxoán.
And mind you, we almost lost it. In the 70s, after the merger of the Mercantil with the Liceo, the building was abandoned. It was the first democratic corporation in 1979 that had the foresight to paralyze other works—those of the house of culture in O Cavadelo—to buy and rescue it. A masterstroke.
The Fantastic in its natural habitat
That historical weight changes how you see films. At Curtas, we don’t just “play” movies; we reclaim a ritual.
Many screenings have passed through these walls. But there is one that marked a generation. It was March ’91. The “Heroes of Cinema” cycle. Admission: free. Among adventure classics and the occasional fantasy film, on the 26th, the room went dark to screen John Carpenter’s The Thing. Seeing that organic, visceral horror in this theater wasn’t just another session; it was an immersive experience before the expression was even invented, and the breeding ground that allowed the current Curtas to germinate.
The architecture of this place plays in our favor. Seeing a silent classic here, with live music and by candlelight, is almost living archaeology. Modern theaters are hygienic and boring; this theater has shadows and textures that fit fantastic cinema like a glove.
Because here, attending an event is an experience. The decor envelops you, the sound has character, and the layout of the environment accompanies you at all times to enhance the intensity of what you are experiencing. You are not a passive spectator; you are inside. That is the true wonder of cinema.
And that, friends, is the wonder of Curtas.
Staying in the center of Vilagarcía is our statement of intent. We could move to a modern and comfortable theater, of course. But the symbiosis between the fantastic genre and this historic temple is what makes us unique. We are in one of the oldest active theaters in Galicia, and that must be honored.
See you at the Temple. See you at Curtas Festival do Imaxinario.
