A Cinema Story - 1930's

I’ve learned a lot more about pre-war cinema-going since my last newsletter. For a change of pace, I thought I would try and bring it to life a little.

This week I’m taking a creative route and writing a fictional cinema story, so that you can imagine what it was like to watch a film in the 1930’s. Let me know what you think in the comments!

A Cinema Story - 1930’s

Saturday afternoon. It’s raining, damp outside and in.

The nights are drawing in, the temperature’s dropping. My oasis of warmth and comfort is calling. Top Hat is showing at The Regal and my Mother is nearly ready to go.

She tells me to pack an orange.

Reaching for my matchbox, I slide the inner from the outer, and rattle my week’s savings on to the bed. Those weekly errands have paid off. There is enough for some chocolates, even some toffees perhaps! I best take the orange with me, just in case.

The cine is a twenty minute walk away, the one I usually go to anyway. There are the flea pits, the bughouses, or the posher ones further into town to choose from. The rats tap along the hard wood floors in the bughouses, while the rain on the corrugated iron roof ensures that everyone is wet through, and no one can hear the piano. We’re not going there today.

As I draw closer to The Regal the murmuring queue gets ever louder. The smell of chips and hot black pudding fills the air not far from the tobacconist, where my brother goes to get his cigarette and matchstick for the Friday double-bill. Turning the corner, my heart sinks as the queue stretches out like a caterpillar, crawling along the wall towards the cinema.

At the end of the queue I see Arthur, the Kicker Out as he’s known. A fireman during the day, here he is telling all the children to behave in line, his bronze buttons throwing sparkle on the pavement. He walks along the line, everyone holding their breath. Please let me in! He passes by and stops just behind me, yelling at the crowd There’s no more seats from here. Come back next time.

Phew

Reaching the kiosk, my options are either to sit on a bench at the front (with the screen brushing my nose), or the posh red velvet chairs towards the back. A better view for sure, but double the price. My mother knows the woman in the kiosk and after some laughs between them, she pays the money, and we get our small metal bit to hand to the check girl at the top of the stairs.

Before we head in, Charlie Webb is waiting on the steps with his attaché case filled with treats for under a penny. Cadbury’s chocolates, toffees, everlasting sticks and gobstoppers. I’m sure my Mother wouldn’t mind my gob stopping for a couple of hours but I plump for the chocolate and everlasting sticks. There is a cafe inside, and she picks up a sandwich and a tea.

Entering the hall, the noise fizzes my ears. Mother has managed to get us the posh seats. A treat! We take our place and soak in the enormous auditorium. It’s beautiful, bright and laced with gold. This is my place, a place where I can forget the damp living room and grey skies. As the red curtains open, some children are throwing their orange peel up towards the projector light and they twinkle mid-air among the cigarette smog. My Mother shoots me with a “don’t you dare” look and The Kicker Out scuttles towards the culprits to nip it all in the bud.

The adverts first. Local shops, the butcher, the undertaker, followed by the newsreel which all bore me to tears. Halfway through the newsreel, the film breaks and the auditorium erupts with stamping of feet while the projectionist works up a sweat to fix it. The usherettes walk up and down the isles with the sprayer, disinfectant I think. Are we that dirty?

Here we go. It’s starting. Top Hat.

It’s another world. Laughing during the opening scene, then gazing in awe when Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers finally get to doing what they do best.

Heaven. I’m in heaven.

Part of me wonders whether to step into the screen, adjust my top hat and tap along with Astaire and Rogers. I best not, some of my friends are in and they would just laugh at me. I’ll just sit here and shuffle my feet in the aisles.

Applause and cheers as the curtains close for another night. It’s still raining outside but neither of us care. The glamour of it all has infected my Mother and I as we tap dance along the curb and sing the songs we don’t know the words to yet. Real life feels a little more bearable as I put my change back into the matchbox and hide it in the drawer. A great trip. Let’s do it again tomorrow.

If you are in the U.K., Top Hat is currently on iPlayer. I watched it after writing this and having a cinema trip in mind adds a nostalgic layer that’s quite comforting. If the whole film is too much, watch the stunning dance number below. You won’t regret it.

Thanks for reading.

Gareth

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https://www.lancaster.ac.uk/fass/projects/cmda/ohms-viewer/render.php?cachefile=WH-95-194AT001.xml

https://www.lancaster.ac.uk/fass/projects/cmda/ohms-viewer/render.php?cachefile=HR-95-047AT001.xml

https://www.lancaster.ac.uk/fass/projects/cmda/ohms-viewer/render.php?cachefile=DB-95-038AT001.xml

https://www.lancaster.ac.uk/fass/projects/cmda/archive-data/interview_transcripts/EC-95-182AT001.pdf

http://www.bfi.org.uk/news-opinion/news-bfi/lists/38-pictures-show-how-british-cinemas-have-changed-past-100-years

Thumbnail Photo - I Couldn’t find the original but here is the link: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/340795896778521588/