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film

Four Stars and Hold Me While I’m Naked

The theaters of the Underground—often five or six docile customers in an improbable place that looks like a bombed-out air shelter or the downstairs ladies room at the old Paramount—offer a weirdly satisfying experience. For two dollars the spectator gets five bedraggled two-reelers, and, after a sojourn with incompetence, chaos, nouveau culture taste, he leaves this land’s end theater feeling unaccountably spry.

In the clique-ish, subdued atmosphere of the New Cinema Playhouse, Tambellini’s Gate, there is more than an attempt to dump the whole history of films. One glance at the pock marked terrain, the placid spectator, suggests a new concept of honesty and beauty based on beggarly conditions. Tambellini’s paradise, the Gate, on 2nd Avenue, starts as an entrance to an old apartment house, moves through a twenties marble hallway and, after the customer buys a two dollar ticket, immediately

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