Driving through highway 40 from downtown Montreal to Laval, in about 45 minutes right beside a newly developed suburban neighbourhood we found an abandoned auto cinema, where only birds, marmots, squirrels and rats live together. Five blank screens are the only remnants of a once vibrant theater that opened in the late 1970’s. Closed in 2004, it is surrounded by a fence and its entrance is closed. Located in the district of Fabreville in Laval, it collides with a fairly new residential area. To access this site feels not only like traveling in time, but to another reality; the sounds of the busy highway are mixed with the birdsongs, crickets, cicadas and the wind that seems to never cease blowing. The tall weeds and grass prevent you from seeing what is beyond the projection screens, creating a weird atmosphere, a closed chamber that at times, feels like a video game or a virtual reality experience. Walking from screen to screen takes a few minutes. It is an open, wide space, perfect for a dystopian movie.
Dehumanized, and reclaimed by nature, it sits beside the highway waiting to be transformed into new condos, a mall, new streets or whatever new developers think would make good profit. Debris from people hanging out possibly at night, lay around, mostly close to the screens. Old chairs, firepits, used fireworks, empty bottles and random objects can be found scattered around; you could say that it is still a place where somehow fantasy happens, a hideout where people can come and escape from the fast highway, busy malls, fancy cafés or 9 to 5 jobs. When places like this disappear, the possibility for randomness goes away with them too. Nestled in the city, they represent a chance to escape from the reality of a system where emptiness is used as a way to create profit at the expense of others, instead of a way to build better cities and stronger communities.