Opened in 1956, Kino Aladin was more than just a cinema. It was a dream factory. It was a testament to Bremerhaven’s love for the silver screen. Kino Aladin wasn’t just showing films. It was creating an experience. Picture this: The year is 1957. The post-war cinema boom is at its peak. Bremerhaven boasts a staggering 2.7 million cinema-goers. And Kino Aladin, standing proudly on Rickmersstraße 11/13, is at the heart of it all. Designed by architect Heinz Feuerhack, Kino Aladin was a beacon of modernity. Its striking flat roof, rising towards the street, dwarfed the surrounding two-story buildings. The name “Aladin,” a nod to the Arabian Nights tale, glowed in vibrant neon lights, promising an escape to magical worlds. A giant “magic lamp” added to the allure. The entrance, a small, funnel-shaped passage lined with shops, was an experience in itself. Solnhofen stone floors gleamed under a “starry sky” of embedded lights. Large display windows, offset in the walls, showcased the cinema’s offerings. At the center of it all stood the ticket booth. It was a sculptural masterpiece, a cylindrical structure with a panoramic window, bathed in indirect light. Kino Aladin was a feast for the senses. The main auditorium, a marvel of design, could accommodate 700 patrons in plush, wine-red, corduroy-covered seats. These weren’t just any seats. They automatically folded up when vacated, a touch of luxury in the post-war era. The oval-shaped auditorium featured a sweeping stage front and a curved, 15-meter-wide Cinemascope screen. The curve of the screen was even visible from the street, a subtle hint of the cinematic wonders within. In 1969, Kino Aladin embraced the widescreen era with a major renovation. Later, in 1976, it received another makeover. The number of seats was reduced to 565, and a magnificent 12×6 meter acrylic relief, depicting seascape symbolism, adorned the right side wall. Kino Aladin’s story, like the films it showed, had its share of twists and turns. Despite its initial success, the cinema faced challenges as television gained popularity. A legal dispute between the cinema operators and the building’s landlord eventually led to its closure in 2004. Today, Kino Aladin stands silent, a poignant reminder of Bremerhaven’s cinematic golden age. But its legacy lives on. In 2007, it was designated a cultural monument, a testament to its architectural and historical significance. Though the magic lamp is dark for now, the spirit of Kino Aladin still flickers. It waits for a new chapter. A new story to unfold within its walls.
Центральный дом работников искусств
Step through the grand wooden doors of the Central House of the Workers of Art, and you’ll be transported to