London's Hyland Cinema brings 70-mm projection to the region
BY SCOTT STEPHENSON
In the June 24, 1948 issue of the Exeter Times-Advocate, nestled among the commonplace declarations of birth, death and marriage, there is an announcement that commemorates the one-year anniversary of the day when 14 members of the local Beta Sigma Phi sorority motored their way to London for an evening of entertainment. The excursion culminated with a show at the Elmwood Theatre.
From our contemporary vantage point lodged in the quagmire of infinite content and on-demand everything, it can be difficult to imagine an age when attending the cinema in London was a grand, newsworthy event. Today, films arrive instantly on personal devices, stripped of location, ritual and often context. In 1947, when the women of Beta Sigma Phi made their pilgrimage to Wharncliffe Road, moviegoing was still a special occasion - an event to be planned, shared, reveled in and remembered.
When it first opened its doors in 1937, the Elmwood was the third movie theatre to operate in London. By the time of that 1947 outing, the theatre was nearly a decade old and on the cusp of change. New owners would soon rename it the Odeon Hyland, a title that would evolve with every change in ownership.
Today, the Hyland Cinema holds the distinction of being the oldest operating movie theatre in Ontario’s Forest City, and cinephiles can rejoice, because the last of London’s great arthouse cinemas has once again made going to the movies a newsworthy event.
On January 2, 2026, the Hyland debuted its restored 70-millimetre (70 mm) projector capability with a special screening of Kill Bill: The Whole Bloody Affair, Quentin Tarantino’s preferred, full-length version of his two-part revenge epic. The evening was a bonafide event - one that not only reasserted the cinema’s commitment to theatrical presentation at the highest possible standard, but reminded all in attendance that there is nothing quite like the communal energy of a dark theatre paired with a great film. Just as those 14 sorority girls did so long ago, my wife and I made the trip to London for an evening of entertainment.
At the centre of this revival is Victor Liorentas, the Hyland’s projectionist and the driving force behind the return of 70 mm film to the booth. Liorentas spent years restoring the 70 mm projector that is now the Hyland’s pride and joy. He believes that the Jan. 2 showing of Kill Bill was the first 70 mm presentation in London in roughly 30 years. Running 70 mm is labour-intensive and unforgiving, with no room for improvisation once the reels are in motion.
Mike Klassen is the manager and programmer at the Hyland, and on Jan. 2, he was managing an unruly line - scanning QR codes and distributing commemorative tickets that double as proof that we were among the ones who were lucky enough to be there that night. Between checking tickets, Klassen made time to ruminate on the series of events that led to this special screening. “It’s kind of been Vic’s long-term dream to get a 70 mm into the theatre, and with the amount of films being released in 70 mm as of late, it's just a good investment. It's also a 35 mm projector, so we’re still able to run reel-to-reel with our 35 prints,” he explained. “It was kind of his brainchild/baby and then it just so happened that Tarantino had all these new prints struck and put the films together with intermission, extra footage - the whole nine yards. So we thought what better way to kick off the new year than with a 70 mm of Kill Bill? Vic’s one of the best in Canada - he is taken from us periodically to go to Toronto and run 70 mm there. But he’s ours. He’s Hyland’s. And London’s.”
Tarantino has long been an outspoken advocate for film projection and theatrical exhibition. His new version of Kill Bill restores scenes, transitions and structure that were removed when the work was split into Vol. 1 and Vol. 2 for their original releases in 2003 and 2004, respectively. Seeing it presented as a single, uninterrupted experience in 70 mm confirms his belief that movies are made to be watched collectively, in the dark, on a large screen.
What makes Kill Bill endure is not just its pastiche, but its conviction. Tarantino treats his influences as living traditions, worthy of reverence and reinvention. Watching the film in a theatre - particularly one equipped to showcase the physicality of film - restores that sense of lineage. The grain, the colour, the sound: all of it reinforces the idea that cinema is something made, not merely delivered.
The streaming era has made watching movies more convenient than audiences in 1947 or 1937 could ever have imagined. But that convenience comes at a cost. When films are reduced to files and theatres to optional accessories, something essential is lost: the shared experience, the attention demanded, the sense that what is happening is unrepeatable.
The Hyland Cinema’s 70 mm revival is not about resisting change for its own sake. It is about continuity. From the Elmwood Theatre of the 1930s to the Hyland of today, this building has borne witness to shifting technologies, tastes and habits. That it can still host an event that feels singular - something worth leaving the house for, something worth applauding the projectionist for means that cinema, as a communal art form, is not yet finished. The pendulum is swinging back. We are finally tired of being alone; we want company in the dark.