Day 272. A rail in the corner is filled with damp and rotting
uniforms for the staff who used to serve this abandoned cinema. How can it have
just been left like this? If it were not for the dust and smell I could imagine
the door opening and people walking in ready for the day. I open up the drawers
of one of the desks and they are filled with the sort of old paperwork and accounting
sheets that you just don’t see anymore. That’s when I realise how strange it is
to see an office with no computers. I imagine when this office door was last
shut the people who worked here would have thought of computers as Hal in ‘2001
– A Space Odyssey’.
Day 273. I am reading a list of films that they have
either show or a coming up. The Love Bug, The Odd Couple, Bullitt, Rosemary’s
Baby, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and many more. I pause as I see the Dick Van Dyke
classic and remember the great performance of Lionel Jeffries – ‘Port Out
Starboard Home, POSH with a capital P’. This is the one film I saw in the
cinema so what year was it. I can’t make my mind locate where and when in my
life this happened. I move towards another corner of the darkened room and
there on the wall is an image of a scantily clad girl and the dates below. This
office closed in 1968. How can this building have stood empty for so long?
Day 274. I spend a few more moments exploring the
office and then find a wooden box on the wall containing keys. The candle is
half way down but I so desperately want to explore this space that I am going
to risk it. I have one more candle in my pocket and I have to move slowly to
avoid the lit candle blowing out. I put the sets of keys in my pocket and
venture out into the foyer. It is so much lighter but I can’t let the candle go
out as I only have one match left. Opposite the main doors are two sets of the
door either side of the box office. They are chained and padlocked. I put the
candle down carefully on the box office shelf and take out the first bunch and
insert the only key that looks like it would fit.
Day 275. This never happens to me. The first key I
try fits and, although stiff, opens the padlock. I lift the chain carefully
from between the handles so as to not make noise and place it out of the way in
case I might accidently kick it later. I pull at the beautifully shaped deco
brass handle and the door groans towards me. To my ears it is like a rocket
going off and I stand absolutely still. After a few moments I realise that
there is no sound from outside so I pick up the candle and step through the
door which slowly groans shut.
Day 276. I am inside the stalls of a magnificent
cinema. Despite the feebleness of the candle flame it dances across the gilded
art deco plasterwork. I move slowly passed the red velvet chairs. A one time
they would have been plush but now they have a white mould which shimmers in
almost phosphorescent way under the flame. As the light drives away the dark in
front of me I see the enormous screen.
Day 277. I manage to climb up onto the stage and
glance back at the cinema hall. There is a balcony as well. I must find my way
up there. It is years since I have been in a cinema with stalls and a gallery. I
move to one side of the screen and pull back at the curtain. Most of it falls
away in my hand and I get covered with rotting thread and cobwebs but I see
that there is a backstage. I squeeze through the gap and find myself in the
rear of the cinema. The difference between the opulence of ‘front of house’ and
the rough brickwork of backstage shows a marked contract but the impact is
lessened by the shared covering of dust.
Day 278. I pause and look around. There is very
little space behind the screen but on the side I am on there is what looks like
a large fuse box. I really cannot hope for much joy with this galvanised
monster but it has to be worth a try. There is one large throw switch that
looks so old it reminds me of Dr Frankenstein’s operating room in the Karloff
classic. I put the candle to one side and place my hand upon the switch. It is
extraordinarily stiff so I have to put my other hand and shoulder under it. It
moves with a slow gracefulness but finally clicks to the other side. I pause
and wait but then …… a gentle hum.
Day 279. I step out onto the stage of the cinema
hall in time to see some of the bulbs glowing into life. I cannot believe that
the supply is still connected and still works. As the level of light begins to
increase I can begin to see the cinema in all its glory. Then the smell begins
to fill my nose. It takes a moment for me to register that this is not the
smell of an old cinema but rather of fire. I turn to see that the candle has
fallen onto the curtain I had pulled down and it is now on fire
Day 280. Because everything is so dry the fire is
taking hold quickly. There is no fire extinguisher visible and I doubt it would
have worked. Finally I remember about smothering a fire so I rip down more of
the red curtains that used to be flush but are now rather threadbare. I throw
them over the flames and stamp around desperate to put out the fire. After some
moments of fear the flames subside and there is just a fog of smoke, dust and
rotting fibre.
Day 281. I clamber down from the stage to get away
from the smell and dust and make my way back out of the main hall back into the
foyer. The lights in reveal a set of doors I did not see before. They are
chained after a frustrating few moments I finally find a key that opens the
rusting padlock. As I slowly and quietly open them I see the most beautiful
gilded font that says ‘Gallery’ with a light arrow pointing up. I ascend the
stairs with a feeling of excitement.
Day 282. At the top of the stairs another set of
doors open up onto the seated the gallery. It is the most fantastic view down
onto the screen and reveals the true beauty of the ornate decoration. Not all
the plasterwork on the ceiling has survived and you can see shattered cherubs on
the stall seats where the fell. I pull down a seat and flop down. The dust no
longer bothers me as my hair and skin are covered already. In my head I can see
the seats around me fill with the ghosts of cinema goers of the past.
Day 283 Surrounded by these ghosts begins to affect
me. In my head I can hear them laugh uncontrollably as a film I cannot see
plays out its story. Their grey faces creased with laughter I cannot share
sweeps a cold sadness through me. Slowly I rise and walk to the top of the
gallery. It is easier to cope seeing the back of their misty heads. As It run
away I see the true place of magic – the projection box. I take out the keys
from my pocket and it is the most ancient that fits the lock. I turn the key
and, as I do, I can hear the end shear off inside. I turn the door handle with
little hope but it appears that the ancient key cracked after it had turned the
mechanism.
Day 284. I step inside the magical box. To the left
is a light switch. I turn it on a green glow fills the box. There in front of
me are the massive projectors. Three astonishing mechanical behemoths,
dinosaurs of the pre-digital age their size and scale no longer sustainable in our
multi screen world. Beautiful in their construction, magnificent in their
history. I walk around the back of them in the small space and stare through
the glass to the big screen. It is like being inside a museum display case and
I have become part of the exhibit.
Day 285. This room is just so evocative. I close my
eyes and I can hear the sound of the film running through the projector. But
how can I? I have never been in a projector room before but somehow
instinctively I know what it sounds like. On the shelf behind are massive tin canisters
for holding the films. Yellow Sellotape has almost obscured the writing on the
cards underneath the top ones but the ones further down have been protected. I
don’t recognise any of the titles. Perhaps that is why they are still here.
Day 286. As I turn back toward the glass panel I see
that the end projector has a film still in it. I walk towards and try to see
through the sepia like squares in the ladder of frames. It is too dark. As I
glance down I see the cable from all three projectors run the to wall and then
from the to an isolator switch. My heart is beating inside my ears as I press
the small green button which is sited just below the large red ‘stop’.
Day 287. A slight click, nothing, and then a little
orange glow appears on two of the three projectors. I can feel my arms shaking
as I realise that it might be possible to show the film. I have no idea how the
projectors work so I take some time to look around them and study all the
buttons and switches. There are surprisingly few and the focus appears to be
done by hand on the lens. Logic tells me these bulbs will need to warm up so I
presume I need to find the one to power the lamp and then start the film
winding. I almost feel sick with excitement.
Day 288. One of the switches has ‘lamp’ written
above it in white paint. I breathe deeply to calm myself and then flick the
switch. At first there appears to be nothing then a gentle glow begins. The
lamp is growing brighter so I turn my attention to turning on the spools. The
switch next to the ‘lamp’ has lost the writing but I switch it and after a
moment to lead spool begins to turn. As it does the film splits and almost
shatters. In a panic I turn off both switches. I touch the film that is left on
the spools and it just disintegrates between my fingers. I feel utterly
distraught. I feel my back slide down the wall and suddenly I am sitting on the
floor staring at my fingers.
Day 289. As I sit my mind begins to kick in. That
film has been exposed to the air and the dust for a few decades. The films in
the canisters had been kept in storage. I jump up and lift off the top metal
can. I have to prize with it to get the lid off and when I do the spool and
film fall to the floor. I can hardly look but it seems like they have both
survived the fall. This film is pliable, it can still bend and curve. I have
something to show. Suddenly I have a choice. Out of the fifteen or so film
canisters on the shelves which shall I choose?
Day 290. There are some Pathe News reels that I
would love to watch but not first. Some of the titles seem slightly familiar
like ‘The Legend of Lylah Clare’ and ‘Privilege’ but some others such as ‘Mr
Gentry goes to Russia’ make you wonder what someone was thinking. As I lift the
last two off the shelf and see a much smaller tin canister at the back. The
writing on the label is faded but the title instantly appeals to me.
Day 291. I open ‘The Holiday’ and carefully take the
spool out. I release the tape that has held the lead frames to the casing and
it immediately springs out. The film is still malleable so it should be able to
be projected. Before loading it a look at what is left of the film that was in
the projector. Using the machine next to it I copy the route that the film
takes. I then come to a point where I am going to have to use guesswork as the
film disintegrated at that point. I open some of the drawers in the hope of
finding a manual but there is no one in sight.
