HUNGRY FOR THEME DINING

By Bonnie Angelo

In downtown Nashville, the thermometer climbs toward 100 degrees as the swooning crowd swells to more than 40,000, all straining to catch a glimpse--maybe a word, even an autograph!--of one of the celebrities scheduled to appear. A country-music concert at the fabled Ryman Auditorium? Hardly. They are far too cool in Nashville to get excited about mere music legends. No, this is the opening of a restaurant.

Granted, Planet Hollywood is not your average hash house. As the stars step from their limos and navigate the red carpet, the crowds erupt in full frenzy. "I absolutely have to see Bruce Willis!" shouts Arthur Signoralli, 32, a mechanic. Marjorie Bates, 61, and her husband have driven 45 miles from Columbia, Tennessee, to celebrate their 38th wedding anniversary at the big opening--outside, not at the party inside. Her long-lens camera at the ready, the excited Bates says, "I want to see everybody! My husband wants to see Cindy Crawford."

The scene would be repeated the following week in Seattle, with cyberczar Bill Gates adding his virtual glamour, and soon in the most touristed spots in the U.S. and a score of other countries. And Planet Hollywood is far from the only franchise where it will be happening. Motown Cafe, the Official All Star Cafe, Harley Davidson Cafe, Country Star, Rain Forest Cafe and Dive! are all out to sate the public hunger for theme dining. These multimedia spectaculars, designed to stimulate every sensory-nerve end--possibly even the palate--are undergoing a second, rapid phase of growth some 25 years after the first Hard Rock Cafe opened its doors in London with Eric Clapton's guitar on the wall and American burgers on the menu.

In the past couple of years, a business exceeding more than half a billion dollars has emerged that the trade calls "eatertainment." Theme restaurants, a combination plate of amusement park, diner, souvenir stand and museum, have become the fastest-growing segment of the restaurant industry, turning up the heat on fast feeders such as McDonald's and the segment known as casual dining, which includes such now ho-hum fern joints as Bennigan's that serve mere food and drink in a relaxed setting. This heady expansion leads to projections that eatertainment will be a $5 billion baby by the turn of the century--assuming the theme dreamers continue to titillate a fickle been-there, done-that public.

Wall Street investors too have a craving for concept. Last April Planet Hollywood's creators, Robert Earl and his principal partner, filmmaker Keith Barish, took the company to the markets via an initial public offering of its stock. With its high-dazzle celebrity partners generating headlines, and with a then dazzling IPO market (see story page 60) generating buyers, the price went into another orbit. Some 11 million shares were offered at $18 each, topped $26 (you and Arnold Schwarzenegger--co-owners!), and held firm in a shaky market. That values the company at almost $2.8 billion--91 times its very modest 1995 earnings. Planet Hollywood, with 33 outlets and $400 million projected in sales this year, boasts a stock-market capitalization second only to McDonald's. Consider that McDonald's, which earned $1.4 billion on $9.79 billion in sales last year, sells at 22 times earnings.

According to its IPO prospectus, the 14 units Planet Hollywood opened last year averaged revenues of $14.3 million each. Its restaurant at Disney World in Orlando, Florida, claims the world's highest gross, at $45 million in 1995, its first year. Revenues are expected to top $50 million this year.

Another new entry is the publicly traded Rain Forest Cafe, a chain featuring sensational tropical settings, live birds and faux snakes, a dollop of ecological education, long waits and well-rated food. Hot as the tropics, its stock rose a steaming 700% since an April 1995 IPO and on July 1 split three for two.

The simple explanation for theme mania is that the why factor is overwhelmed by the who and the wow! factors. Stardust, glitz and fantasy are worth the wait. It is entertainment for the price of a burger. Elaborates Tim Zagat, publisher of the Zagat restaurant guides, which rate restaurants in 25 American cities: "The food doesn't have to be all that good, as long as it doesn't poison you. You go because you are interested."

Between low-octane drinks and high-calorie desserts, diners can ogle costumes actually inhabited by movie icons (Tom Hanks' Forrest Gump fatigues, Sylvester Stallone's Rocky boxing trunks), guitars stroked by rock stars, gear made magical by sports greats (Ken Griffey Jr.'s Louisville Slugger; Shaquille O'Neal's minivan-size hoop shoes); or a wall of Motown gold records.

No one could agree more than the undisputed lord of theme, transplanted Brit Robert Earl, that "the desire to be entertained is growing." The former dinner-theater operator left Hard Rock Cafe in 1992 for Planet Hollywood, which he started the year before. (Hard Rock creator Peter Morton sued Earl for allegedly purloining Hard Rock's business plans. The issue was settled without a trial.) Last year Earl, a die-hard Orlando Magic fan, opened the Official All Star Cafe; he will soon launch MarvelMania (comics) and Chefs of the World (imagine--food!).

In Los Angeles and Las Vegas they flock to Country Star for barbecued twang and to Dive!--the submarine creation of Dreamworks' filmmakers Steven Spielberg and Jeffrey Katzenberg--for simulated undersea adventures. Dive! has also surfaced on the Barcelona waterfront. The Harley Davidson Cafe is hog heaven for the customer who climbs into the saddle of a Low Rider against a make-believe open road while a video camera records the moment of sublime fantasy. And if spooky things grab you, Jekyll and Hyde, a house of horrors, is the place to thrill.

For Earl and other themers, food, drink and entertainment are just the beginning stages of what they hope will be empires built on a brand name. "I'm no longer a restaurateur," Earl declares in an accent from the Robin Leach school of elocution. "I'm in the business of building trademarks." That's one reason why each restaurant is designed with a merchandise shop to tempt customers to buy such must-have souvenirs as jogging suits, $20 T shirts or baby baseball togs. Or a $399 leather jacket--just add it to the food bill. The logo gear is far more profitable than the edibles, with a markup as high as 200%, compared with 10% on perishable, labor-intensive meals.

You can't build brand awareness without advertising, and the customer who shells out the cash to buy a logo item then serves as a walking ad. You'll see "Hard Rock Cafe" worn like a declaration all over the world, and "Official All Star" emblazoned on sports bags gives the bearer the panache of a player rather than a payer. McDonald's spends $490 million a year on advertising; Planet Hollywood, 0 . James G. Berk, new president of Hard Rock Cafe International, has plans for a music label, big entertainment centers showcasing new talents, and a Hard Rock TV network that will offer in-house programming.

Earl the trademarketer is busily spinning out line extensions. To hawk his forthcoming Chefs of the World theme, he envisages "cookbooks, home shopping, culinary classes." As for Planet, "we're looking at a Planet Hollywood fragrance, a movie-based game. And we don't see us spending money--we see a licensing deal." To wit: two Planet Hollywood casino hotels, bankrolled by ITT, are on the drawing boards.

For stars, participation in theme eateries is a risk-free way to trade on their fame--no small consideration in a business where every marquee name becomes a mark for the Three Stooges Investment Co. "We've just piggybacked on Hollywood--Hollywood is the phenomenon, and we've built a theme park around it," muses Willis, an original Planet partner. Schwarzenegger, considered one of filmdom's savvier financial minds, says he took up Earl's "bold, great business idea" without hesitation. "Movie memorabilia was just collecting dust in warehouses," he says. "When I was a kid, if only I could have touched John Wayne's stagecoach..."

As more and more entrepreneurs rush in on the hot trend, industry watchers see oversaturation. Says Zagat: "When the theme is broad enough and well executed, it's very profitable. A handful have made it big, big, big. But some will fail."

Nevertheless, restaurateurs are busy figuring out what other clonable ideas are out there for public consumption. Auto racing? Cyberspace? Comedy? Earl sees revenues topping $800 million before he runs out of room, which means that by 2000 he intends to have a hundred Planets orbiting, and by 2002, a hundred All Stars in play. But don't tell that to the throngs who are happy to spend 10 bucks for a hamburger and a chance to see Arnold, in person or in replica as the Terminator. At the Planet Hollywood party, a young woman in slinky black, separated from the real thing by the bulk of a bodyguard, summed it up this way: "Just for one night, I'm going to pretend I'm in Hollywood and not in Nashville."

--With reporting by Stacy Perman/ Nashville and Jane Van Tassel/New York