Croatia: At the movies: Split’s Kinoteka Zlatna Vrata

By the time we got back to Split, it was full-on November weather. The storm was passing, these gigantic clouds sweeping out of the sky, leaving the world chilly, windy, almost frosty. Rachel and I walked along the waterfront, wishing we had scarves and hats. Just that morning in Trogir, it was hot and sunny. The water was a dark midnight blue, whipped up into waves. There’s something about being in a “storied” place like that waterfront, active and important since antiquity. You feel the millennia in every viewpoint. Maybe if you live there you get used to it.

So stunning.

Now, on this particular evening I had planned my own adventure, based on a tip from an Instagram friend – and movie buff – who grew up in Split. She told me to go check out the Cinematheque, located within Diocletian’s Palace. Apparently there are more little movie theatres in there, but this was the one she told me to go to. It’s called the Kinoteka Zlatna Vrata (Golden Gate). I was so excited. I had checked out the website, and figured out – with help from Google translate – that there was a half-hour long movie playing on the night in question. It was the only time I could really go. Half an hour long, directed by a Polish husband-wife team? Sure, of course! Next up came the challenge of finding the theatre. I’m not kidding when I say it took me three tries. Ante had showed me where it was on the map – just inside the Golden Gate of the Palace. I walked up and down looking for it. There were shops (including a Game of Thrones shop), and cafes, but I saw nothing that looked like a theatre. Later on, we got some gelato and I asked the serving girl if she knew where it was. I showed her the address, plus the map, and she basically said, “It’s right inside the Golden Gate” … just like Ante had said. So I went back to the area, determined to suss the place out. Finally, I found it.

It was right where it was supposed to be, but it was basically a long dark hallway, with a gate over the entrance before showtime. No sign. No arrow leading in. You had to know where it was. Not for tourists.

I got there about half an hour early and the gate was still shut, locked, lights off. I wandered around for a bit. It was very cold. The Palace had emptied out, somewhat, giving it an extremely different energy. The sky was grey and low. The sky made the arches and ruins look very different. Moodier, turned in on themselves, even more grand. Secretive and quiet.

By the time I got back to the movie theatre, the gate was open, and some lights were on in the hallway, shining on the posters.

The Zlatna Vrata is, hands down, the coolest movie theatre I have ever been to. The entire time I was there I felt like I was tiptoeing into a magical world, which – honestly – is how a movie theatre SHOULD feel. There’s a small lobby on the ground floor, and then you have to climb up two flights of stairs to get to the theatre itself. On the second floor is an office area, behind glass doors. The theatre – maybe 100 seats? – is at the top, behind black painted doors. I was the first one there, so I didn’t have any crowds to follow. I felt shy. This was clearly an event for insiders, subscribers to the theatre, cinephiles in the area (it ended up being a packed house, for this half-hour screening: a testament to the dedication to cinema in the community. The fact that the directors were there for a QA afterwards just intensified my impression of a serious and enthusiastic moviegoing community.)

The theatre opened in 1958, with wooden chairs, some of which were lined up on the first floor, on display.

I took the stairs up, soaking up the atmosphere. The white walls were lined with posters.

Marlon Brando and … Roman-era walls outside the window. Pure magic, a wrinkle in time spanning 1,700 years.

I wasn’t sure what I was doing since no one else was around, but it ended up being perfect. I walked through the black doors on the top floor, and found myself alone in the theatre. It’s a small space, but with a high ceiling. The chairs are orange and yellow, and each one has a famous name on it, so you’re surrounded by the history of cinema. I walked around, to the back of the theatre to get the lay of the land. It was quiet, but with a small echo, the acoustics in the room are excellent. Enclosed within the walls of Diocletian’s Palace, this place is a small enclave, a quiet and serious place for people to gather, people with one overriding passion. Not only does the Palace have a lengthy history but so does the Zlatna Vrata. 60 years of operation.

Stunning.

I practically had the same sensation in that theatre that I had had looking at St. James Cathedral, or any of the other sights we witnessed. History here, soaked into the walls.

I settled myself down into Ava Gardner’s chair. It was about 5 minutes before anyone else showed up. It felt luxurious, to be there, to sit alone in the silence. One by one people arrived. Many seemed to know one another. Eventually the place was about 80% full. The movie we were about to see – called Who Am I? – was the only thing on the schedule for the night. The turnout was impressive. The guy who I assumed was the programmer gave an introduction to the film and introduced the two directors, who spoke briefly about the film (with the programmer translating into Croatian). So the conversation was Polish, Croatian, and English. After the movie, which was an exploration of the human essence, or soul, or whatever you want to call it. One of my favorite experiences on earth is the sensation of succumbing to whatever it is I’m watching. There’s something about abdicating the normal processes of your mind – its concerns and worries – and giving over to somebody else’s vision. It’s meditative. This is why I turn my phone off when I’m watching a movie at home. It helps provide that headspace.

Afterwards, there was a QA, moderated by the programmer. People spoke in English, which was then translated into Croatian. The audience was serious, engaged, enthusiastic … open, is the word for it.

I felt honored to be there, to quietly join the flow of their close community, hang out for a bit, and then leave, enriched.

It was absolutely magical. I can’t wait to go back.

Rachel and I were going to meet up later for a drink. It was about 8:30, 9. The Palace was practically empty. I walked around. The wind whipped through those long narrow stone alleys. There were tables for cafes, all empty. There were no crowds. I can’t even express what it felt like to walk around in that place, all by myself. There were times when I was completely alone, standing in a space surrounded by walls built by the Romans, and the only 21st century thing there was me, and my cell phone. It was an absolutely profound experience. You can look up and see the sky, of course, and there are “street” lights, but shadows predominated. This is not a museum. It’s a part of the city. It was a cold night, nobody was going to be hanging out at an outdoor wine bar. Tables sat there empty. Doors locked. Quiet.

I touched the walls. I pressed my back against the walls so I could get some perspective on whatever empty space I was staring in. The amazing gravity-defying arches of the Romans (how did they DO that? And these arches still stand … it’s just goosebump-worthy), the thick outer wall, the spaces near the gates originally built for chariots, horses … now just open and empty.

I walked around the perimeter, staring up at the outer wall, black sky behind it. This is what Ante was talking about on our drive to the hotel from the airport: Diocletian built this palace as a retirement home, a place where he could relax. But there were also fort-like elements – since he could never TOTALLY relax. These outer walls stretch up to the sky.

Looks like Emperor Diocletian is a night owl.

The whole night was like being caught in a spell: I just needed to be still and quiet enough to sense the sweep of millennia. It was all right there.

Then Rachel and I had a hilarious interlude where we figured out where the real roof terrace was, but it was closed due to the gale-force winds, and we went there anyway, and had to hang on for dear life. But the view of Split really was to die for! As good as promised!

We only lasted up there for about a minute and a half though. We were afraid we would blow away.