Palm Beach Autographs stocks authentic signed sports merchandise sourced from private signings or sessions witnessed by staff members to guarantee the authenticity of every item they sell. The store's collection of collectables also includes unsigned team memorabilia, framings, and acrylic display cases. Race home with an autographed, die-cast NASCAR miniature car ($50+), get an autographed, unframed picture of your favorite athlete ($10+), or show off a spherical keepsake or a handful of Big League Chew inside a baseball display case ($40). Plaques displaying thousands of athletes are also available for $29.99 as well as a Miami Heat StandZ ($24.99), a laser-cut realistic photo sculpture of LeBron James, Dwyane Wade, and Chris Bosh.
Mos'Art Theatre, strives to fortify Palm Beach's cultural scene with "film, art, music, and hope," bolstering a sense of community and inspiring creative expression. Before even entering the theater, audiences pass paintings from local artists and the Art Bar, where they can sip a preshow beer or wine. In the intimate, 150-seat auditorium, the silver screen lights up with indie and foreign films, dazzling eyes and ears with stories that spotlight the human condition and let patrons cry in public without fear of banishment. The management duo, J.R. and Erin Coley, rounds out the commitment to elevating artistic discourse with live children's theater, creative classes, and an ongoing series tracking opera and ballet in the movies.
For a decade, LunaFest has raised awareness about breast cancer and connected women across the U.S. by screening short films made by, for, and about women. Each year, the nine selected films range in genre from comedy to drama and explore themes such as body image, childbirth, and gender identity. The profits from each LunaFest screening benefit the Breast Cancer Fund and other local nonprofits nationwide. To date, the festival has featured more than 92 filmmakers and raised nearly $1.2 million dollars for charity.
Cardboard cutouts clad with cartoon superheroes and banners featuring beloved Hollywood starlets bedeck the walls of the Movies at Wellington lobby, reminding patrons why film viewing has become such a time-tested American pastime. Buttered popcorn kernels glint through front counters like diamonds in a jewelry-store case, luring those who want a snack while watching the newest releases in digital projection or innovative RealD 3D display. Guests can also question ticket takers about birthday-party packages for 25 guests, which offer unlimited popcorn, soda refills, and a tour of the attic, in which the projectionist stores his hand puppets.
It's 1980-something. Glen, a young boy, dons a pair of glasses with one blue lens and one red, excited by this new technology that's supposed to make things on the screen pop out at you. During the next two hours, Glen ducks swooping avians during the revival of Alfred Hitchcock's ¬The Birds in 3-D, terrified, yet thrilled. This is one of Glen Gray's earliest memories about the theater his father built more than 30 years ago. Today, Glen lives out those moments each day as the proprietor of Movies of Delray, where the projectors roll a medley of Hollywood features and foreign, art-house, and independent films.
Gold walls and burgundy curtains lend the lobby an art-deco air, and a large chandelier illuminates more than 60 pencil drawings of movie icons of yore, such as John Wayne, Elvis, and Marilyn Monroe. This old-fashioned lobby disguises the updates within: brand-new bathrooms, granite countertops at the concession stand, and, in the theaters themselves, digital surround sound and updated seating. Rows of black leather seats cushion moviegoers with high backs and wide benches so cozy that Glen claims guests have fallen asleep in them, only waking up at the end of the picture or when Bruce Willis turns out to have been a metaphor all along.
In celebration of film, professor Shelly Isaacs graces the theater with screenings of obscure Oscar-winning or Oscar-nominated foreign films. After each screening, he discusses the film with audiences, dissecting and analyzing the cinematography, characters, and plot.
The aroma of salt and butter fills Alco Capital Theaters in Boynton Beach. Manager Larry Forbes has worked in theaters for three decades, having started out projecting midnight rock flicks at a drive-in in Fort Lauderdale. He therefore balances a sentimental attachment to film with the practical aspects that make it good for business. "If there's a problem and you have a technician—which we do onsite all the time—you can fix it immediately," he points out. Although the majority of work is projected from film, the theater's eight screening rooms are not warehouses for nostalgia. Digital and Dolby 3-D projectors deliver sharp pictures and immersive experiences to stadiums of 1,500 lumbar-supportive seats, as digital speakers and ADA listening devices make eardrums quake.
During the winter, moviegoers prepare for the upcoming awards season with a full slate of Academy Award–nominated films. On some summer days 700–800 kids will flood the theater by 10 a.m. for adventure flicks and romantic comedies, and when things slow down in the fall, Forbes fires off notices of indie premieres and director Q&A sessions to members of the Movi-E Mail Club, who have chatted with director Susan Seidelman and burgeoning stars from The Palm Beach County Film & Television Institute. On federal holidays, the staff host a special matinee for students, and every Tuesday they pile free popcorn into reusable plastic buckets and vacant laps. The theater's dedication to its audience extends to special requests—Forbes remembers slipping a man's wedding-proposal video into the previews one night. Although he doesn't remember the film, Forbes does remember the woman's answer: she said yes.