Inox PVR @ Prism
An Art Deco cinema lobby that begins the film before the film
PROJECT PROFILE / FACT FILE
Project
INOX PVR Prism — cinema lobby & public areas
Location
Hyderabad
Client
PVR INOX
Typology
Cinema interiors
Screens
Three-screen multiplex
Status
Completed
Year completed
2025
Photography
BB Team
Design leads
Vinit Nikumbh & Ankita Mathapati Nikumbh, Bricolage Bombay
Design language
Contemporary Art Deco — teal palette, metallic accents, geometric ceiling & floor
Scope
Lobby, ticketing, concessions, wayfinding, signage, waiting zones
SHORT PROJECT DESCRIPTION (≈500 WORDS)
The Film Before the Film
A cinema lobby is usually a place you pass through — a corridor between the ticket and the seat. At INOX PVR Prism in Hyderabad, we asked a different question: what if the lobby were the opening scene? As the founders and architects of Bricolage Bombay, Vinit Nikumbh and Ankita Mathapati Nikumbh, we designed it not as a transition but as anticipation made spatial.
Our reference was Art Deco — the movement that gave the twentieth-century cinema its glamour — but we were not interested in nostalgia or pastiche. Rather than copying historical motifs, we distilled the principles that made Deco so cinematic in the first place: symmetry, rhythm, layering and a certain theatrical drama. Reinterpreted through contemporary materials, those principles let the lobby feel both timeless and unmistakably of now.
Geometry does the heavy lifting. Angular forms and repeated patterns establish a strong identity across the space, and the floor — executed in cut vitrified tiles — becomes a mirror of the ceiling above it, so that horizontal and vertical surfaces enter into a single conversation. A rich teal palette, paired with metallic accents, textured wall panelling and warm light, gives the cinema a sense of luxury that distinguishes it sharply from the neutral, interchangeable lobby most multiplexes settle for.
The ceiling is the room’s protagonist. Inspired by the layered compositions of Deco interiors, it folds geometry and integrated lighting together so that illumination becomes architecture — accentuating surfaces, guiding circulation, and giving the whole lobby a quiet glamour after dark. Tiered pendant lamps, like miniature ziggurats of light, carry that rhythm down to human scale.
Beyond spectacle, a cinema lobby has work to do. Ticketing, concessions, wayfinding, signage, display and waiting zones all had to be folded into one coherent language, so that no operational element feels bolted on. Every finish and every graphic belongs to the same idea.
The threshold to each screen continues the choreography. Backlit gold lettering glows against the teal, screen numbers framed within Deco portals, fluted wainscoting and brass detailing leading the eye toward the auditorium doors. By the time you reach your screen, the building has been quietly rehearsing the idea of cinema around you — symmetry, repetition, drama — so that crossing into the dark feels less like entering a room and more like stepping into a story already in motion.
The result is a space where the act of arriving is already part of the show — proof that interior architecture can strengthen a brand, lift the everyday experience, and turn the walk to your seat into the first frame of the evening.
FEATURE ESSAY (≈1000 WORDS)
Geometry as Anticipation: Reimagining Art Deco at INOX PVR Prism
Most cinema lobbies are designed to be forgotten. They are the few minutes between buying a ticket and finding a seat — efficient, neutral, instantly interchangeable from one city to the next. When PVR INOX asked us to design the lobby of their three-screen cinema at Prism in Hyderabad, we, Vinit Nikumbh and Ankita Mathapati Nikumbh, founders and architects of Bricolage Bombay, decided that forgetting was exactly the wrong ambition.
What if the lobby were not a corridor to the film, but the opening scene of it?
Deco, distilled rather than copied
Art Deco and the cinema grew up together; the movement gave the picture palace its sense of occasion. So it was the obvious lineage to draw from — but lineage is not the same as imitation. We had no interest in reproducing historical motifs as decoration. Instead we distilled the principles that made Deco feel so theatrical: symmetry, rhythm, layering, and visual drama. Those are not styles; they are spatial strategies. Translated through contemporary materials and construction, they let a present-day multiplex carry the glamour of an older idea without dressing up as a museum.
A floor that answers the ceiling
Geometry became both the architecture and the graphic identity of the lobby. Angular forms and repeated patterns run through the space, and we composed the floor — in cut vitrified tile — as a deliberate echo of the ceiling, so that the two surfaces speak to one another across the height of the room. Black-and-white marble fans out underfoot in sharp diagonals; brass railings and fluted columns carry the rhythm vertically. The whole lobby is tied together by this continuous geometric language, which gives a busy public space a sense of order and movement at the same time.
Can a colour do the work of a brand?
Teal, and the refusal of the neutral
We built the character of the cinema on a rich teal — a deliberate rejection of the beige neutrality that makes most multiplex lobbies indistinguishable. Paired with metallic accents, textured wall panelling and warm light, the colour introduces a sense of luxury and, just as importantly, memory: you will recognise this cinema again. The palette was curated to balance richness with durability, because a public room that takes thousands of feet a day must keep its character long after opening night.
Light as an architectural layer
The ceiling is where the project concentrates. Inspired by the layered compositions of Deco interiors, it brings geometric form and integrated lighting into a single gesture, so that light is not merely switched on but built in — accentuating surfaces, highlighting circulation paths, and giving the lobby its after-dark glamour. Tiered pendant lamps descend like small ziggurats of light, bringing that grand ceiling rhythm down to the scale of a person buying popcorn. Lighting, here, is treated as architecture rather than as an afterthought clipped to the soffit.
The walk to the screen as choreography
What if the corridor to the auditorium were already part of the film?
A multiplex is, in the end, a sequence of thresholds, and we treated each one as a beat in a longer score. From the central lobby, circular planters and arched niches lead toward the screen approaches, where backlit gold lettering glows against deep teal walls and the screen number sits framed within a Deco portal. Fluted wood wainscoting and slender brass lines draw the eye forward; the black-and-white marble underfoot narrows into a runner that all but points you toward the doors. Nothing is accidental about the procession. By the time a visitor reaches their screen, the architecture has spent several minutes rehearsing the grammar of cinema around them — symmetry, repetition, a build toward drama — so that the final step into the dark feels like an entrance rather than a transaction.
That continuity matters because brand, in a cinema, is not a logo on a wall; it is a feeling carried unbroken from the street to the seat. We wanted a visitor to recognise an INOX cinema the way one recognises a piece of music after only a few bars — by its rhythm, its palette, its sense of occasion. A teal-and-gold lobby that holds together from the box office to the auditorium door does more for the brand than any amount of signage, because it is experienced rather than read.
And yet a lobby must work. Ticketing, concessions, wayfinding, signage, display and waiting all had to be absorbed into one architectural language so that nothing reads as an add-on. When it succeeds, you do not notice the machinery at all — you only feel that the evening has already begun. That is the quiet claim of INOX PVR Prism: that interior architecture can lift a brand, elevate an ordinary outing, and turn the simple walk to your seat into the first frame of the film.
DEEP DIVE (≈300 WORDS)
The Ceiling That Lights the Floor
Stand in the lobby of INOX PVR Prism in Hyderabad and look up, then look down. The ceiling and the floor are having a conversation. That correspondence is the heart of what we, Vinit Nikumbh and Ankita Mathapati Nikumbh, founders and architects of Bricolage Bombay, set out to make.
We reached for Art Deco — the language that gave cinema its glamour — but refused to copy it. Instead we distilled its principles: symmetry, rhythm, layering, drama. The cut vitrified tile underfoot is composed as a mirror of the geometric ceiling above, so that the two surfaces frame you between them and the whole room reads as a single, ordered gesture.
The ceiling itself is the protagonist. Geometry and integrated lighting are folded together so that illumination becomes architecture rather than equipment — accentuating surfaces, guiding movement, and giving the space its after-dark luxury. Tiered pendant lamps bring that rhythm down to eye level. A rich teal palette, with metallic accents and warm light, sets the cinema firmly apart from the neutral lobby most multiplexes accept.
Beneath the drama, the room works hard: ticketing, concessions, wayfinding and waiting are all absorbed into one language, so nothing feels bolted on.
Even the journey onward is composed: tiered pendant lamps lead the eye toward the screen approaches, where backlit gold lettering and Deco portals frame each auditorium door, so the procession to your seat stays part of the performance.
A lobby, designed this way, stops being a place you pass through. It becomes the film before the film — the first frame of the evening, lit from above and answered from below.