HAVING pronounced on the ‘architectural and historical’ merits of the former Odeon cinema in Bath Street, much to the disappointment of the would-be developers of the rather unattractive collection of buildings surrounding it, our Planning Minister may have both earned an accolade from conservationists and perpetuated an unresolved dilemma.

Endorsing its status as a Site of Special Interest, he reconfirmed the recognition granted way back in 2003 – a year before it was bought by its present owners for £500,000. So at least they were aware they had something special on their books.

I suppose you could contend that the cinema was always merely a pawn in the developers’ plan. Anyone who had done their homework would have been fully aware of the sizeable body of public opinion opposed to its austere, crumbling appearance, so could cleverly capitalise on the negativity, adding a sprinkling of brinkmanship in order to replace it with their own contemporary edifice.

If the published architects’ impressions are anything to go by, future arm-chair architectural critics are likely to be screaming for its demolition considerably sooner than the 60 years the Odeon has been standing.

But if the wrecking ball has been stayed at least for the moment, something positive must be done with it. It can’t just be left as a beacon of indecision and 21st-century neglect.

Last year the chairman of the Jersey Arts Committee put forward a strong case for its redevelopment as an arts centre. After all, it has a ready-made auditorium with listed features. Plenty of room for performance and office space – even a façade that could serve as a screen for projecting images, perhaps free movies from the new park opposite, now alas deprived of its acres of convenient public parking.

Whatever the old building looks like today, there’s no question that it can claim a significant place in Island, even national, history. When it opened in 1952 it was the first British cinema to be built after the war, an enduring example of municipal art deco style.

One problem is its acknowledged quota of white asbestos, favoured by builders at the time – ideal for fire-proofing but a devil to clear when disturbed. The ‘A’ threat would be as great if you were to develop the place as it would be if you demolished it.

Sadly, its decline was sealed by our changing tastes in public entertainment. Traditional cinemas were big in order to accommodate large audiences and bulky equipment to project reel-to-reel feature films. Going to the cinema formed part of a social ritual.

But we fell out of love with them. Home-movies and downloads signed the technical death warrant, while the ban on smoking and progressively liberal attitudes to courtship behaviour in public emptied the back rows.

So down came the Forum – much more than a cinema, given its wartime significance – and West’s, with its unflattering ‘fleapit’ reputation. When the Odeon finally closed its doors two years ago, we were left with a black hole at the centre of town, a kit of cinematographical museum pieces beloved of film enthusiast Kevin Lewis, and the only sizeable cinema entertainment squeezed onto the Waterfront.

Well the carrot – the £40 million redevelopment of a run-down area of town into a paradise of retail outlets and lucrative apartments – has been put on hold. The stick – condemning the area to remain with its eccentric mix of urban jumble – is still being brandished.

But leaving the cinema building empty and untouched is potentially worrying. At best it risks falling into greater decay, even though one contributor to this newspaper has already pointed out that the company should bear in mind that, in theory at least, the planning department has the power to make good an SSI property and charge the work to the owner. At worst, it might fall victim to the greatest threat facing vacant buildings: a mysterious fire in the night.

Had the recently introduced categories for assessing buildings of national interest been in place at the time, it is possible that the fate of the Forum, too, might have been different, given its significance, though as with the questions now hanging over the Odeon, its use would present a commercial conundrum.

There are indeed powerful voices sceptical that any positive use can be made of the premises.

But there is a well observed principle of negotiation which goes like this: it’s better to turn something you don’t like to your advantage, rather than be forced in defeat to destroy it.

So, where are the entrepreneurs with real vision prepared to resurrect an ugly duckling into a swan? Come on, get your magical thinking caps on! There’s an outdoor community and leisure centre being planned across the road – if you believe the champions of the scheme. What’s stopping it incorporating a renowned pavillion of internal excellence and accessibility, ideal for hosting commercially sponsored events and local culture?

Surely we have enough award-winning architects capable of rising to the challenge. Could we even hope that once their initial disappointment is behind them, the owners – a respected local company – might choose to demonstrate public-spirited commitment and support its development into a local attraction to bring revenue and prestige both to themselves and the community?

Scan the local skyline and the sad fact is that there are already too many examples of once proud high-profile buildings being left to rot. So, like the old Jersey College for Girls or the Fort Regent swimming pool, you might just as well spare their fading redundancy, knock them down and accommodate people in their place.
At least it might save wrecking even more of the countryside.