A Film Critic's Guide to the World's Best Movie Theaters

The Cinemateca Portuguesa is a block off Lisbon's tree-lined Avenida de Libertade, about halfway between the Estátua de Marquês Pombal and the Baxia. To translate: it's midway between the heart of tourist town and where you'll find many of the high-end shops and restaurants. My personal visit to the Cinemateca came after a hearty meal that included Douro Valley wine, and then, after dinner, sitting out at one of the many Avenida kiosks for more Douro Valley wine. (One can drink Port in Lisbon, but I did enough of that in Porto to last a lifetime.)

All this quaffing had me worried about falling asleep at a late movie, but luckily the Cinemateca's Hitchcock-inspired 39 Steps restaurant offered plenty of strong coffee. The restaurant opens up to a balcony, another of Lisbon's marvelous hidden rooftops. On the same floor is a terrific, small bookshop loaded with everything from photo-rich coffee table tomes to slim volumes of esoteric film theory. The building itself dates back to 1897 when it was home of a wealthy lawyer whose heirs sold the property to the government in 1979. The following year the Cinemateca moved in, but complications arose due to a fire caused by old nitrate film stocks.

The current design dates to 2002 and it is a splendid mix of new and old, with a typical Lisbon Manueline street lamp out front, a 1960s neon sign, and a mix of tiles and wood floors inside. The permanent exhibit features moviemaking equipment (man, those old cameras were huge) and great old posters. A central atrium features an enormous column of film cans, which I hope are well-glued together unless someone is looking to recreate Chaplin-esque mayhem.

Ticket prices are subsidized (Europe!) so my wife and I were able to see Stanley Kubrick's “Barry Lyndon” for 9 euros total. The programming is mostly repertory, sometimes categorized by director or theme. Rarely will you catch anything dubbed, but if the film isn't in English there will only be Portuguese subtitles, so choose wisely.

The Jerusalem Cinematheque is perched directly across the walls of the Old City, which means that the outdoor atrium's view is more cinematic than most movies you'll ever see. Like everything in this ancient city, there are differing opinions about where precisely historical places lie, but most agree that the valley between this state of the art facility and King David's Tomb is the one referred to in the Bible as Gehenna, which the Anglo-Saxons later called Hell. But it's a film lover's heaven, I swear.

The Cinematheque has multiple screens that toggle between current arthouse fare and varied repertory offerings. Checking the website this autumn you'll find classic Italian comedies, new films from the Dominican Republic, a collection of movies featuring awkward family dinners, and a retrospective of Cary Grant. Tickets are 10 NIS which translates to less then $3 a pop. (Non-English films will oftentimes have both Hebrew and English subtitles, but it can't hurt to double check.)

Locals can buy packages of themed films with accompanying lectures. Why not see Preston Sturges' 1941 comedy “The Lady Eve” and hear someone with an advanced degree discuss “Love as a Barter” or a PhD and a Rabbi argue “Journalistic and Religious Ethics” after a screening of “Spotlight"?

Hardcore cinephiles may get lost in the substantial library of multi-lingual film books, or dive even further into stacks of old film journals and newspaper clippings. There's also a sit-down restaurant as well as a bar that spills out onto a lawn, where one can grab an arak with mint and enjoy one of Jerusalem's hilltop breezes.

Wandering the cobblestone streets of Avignon in southern France already feels like being inside a movie. A Medieval wall and ramparts separate the Rhône river from the enormous Palais de Papes, the seat of Catholic power in the 14th Century and home to five popes and several antipopes. (There was a bit of a disagreement about when it was time to head back to Rome, you see.) The history and architecture are fascinating in the oldest part of Avignon, and as you worm your way back in time you never know when mysteries are around the next corner.

Nestled somewhere in the maze of tiniest streets, with the back of its structure practically touching the 11th century Avignon Cathedral, is the Utopia Cinema. Unlike the others mentioned here, this is a chain theater (with four other outposts in France), but just like the nonprofit cinematheques, they show both new movies and old. Currently there's a Luis Buñuel retrospective, but when I was there it was Brian De Palma, which in a way is more French than any French director. Tickets are 7 euros.

Even though 99 percent of humanity covets the aisle seat, I tend to sit far to the side at the movies, and there was a fantastic feeling leaning against the wall in the dark knowing that a place of historic importance was just on the other side. The interior of the Utopia has a whimsical fin-de-siècle vibe, with cartoon doodles, red walls, and fun posters. There's an adjacent restaurant (we didn't eat, but we had wine, naturally) with large wrought-iron windows. Just next door is a jazz club. All that's missing really is a mime.