The last film I saw in a mainstream cinema was The Grand Budapest Hotel. I think. It’s been so long I’m not quite sure. Since I went back to full-time studying and took on a mad schedule of jobs to finance it (I’m currently on three part-time jobs and have stupidly taken on some volunteering too) the cinema has seemed a frivolous waste of my time and money, both of which are in short supply. But I make one exception, and that is the Prince Charles Cinema in Leicester Square.
My first visit there was early last year for a screening of one of my all-time favourite bad films, The Room, with its star/creator/evil mastermind Tommy Wiseau and the long-suffering Greg Sestero giving an introduction. Since then I’ve been to see a number of films there, including Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Trick r’ Treat, and an Arnold Schwarzenegger all-night marathon.
A couple of weeks ago I spotted that they were doing a successor to their experimental all-night mystery movie marathon – that is: one night, five films, the titles of which would not be revealed until the opening sequences. Being a lucky-dip sort of person, I roped in a willing friend and we found ourselves queuing outside at twenty to midnight on Good Friday, armed with our body weight in Haribo and trying desperately to stay awake. He’d been out the night before and was hungover on three hours’ sleep; I am secretly an eighty year old woman who likes nothing more than tucking up at ten thirty with a good book. Both of us were feeling it before we went in.
There was one clue in the advert for the event as to what the films might be: a typewriter. The staff handed out pens and paper and asked us to guess what the titles were, with the person getting the most right winning two free tickets for another film. My guesses were poor: The Shining (obvious), The Birds (that was mostly hope), Misery (stolen from the girl next to me), Psycho (stolen from my friend), and I cannot remember for the life of me what the last one was but it certainly wasn’t correct.
I got one right, though.
00:10 – Sunset Boulevard (1950)
One of those films you hear about every so often and think, yes, I should see that, but never get round to. As per my guesses above I was hoping for some good black-and-white 1950s films, so this was a great choice even if it wasn’t on my list. Sunset Boulevard is dark and wicked, full of loathsome characters and cringe-inducing moments. (Until this film I hadn’t realised that “you smell real special” could be a chat-up line, but now I can’t wait to use it.) It tells the story of a screenwriter who, struggling financially, stumbles into the house of an ageing silent film star who manipulates him into editing her script for the story of Salome. He ends up as her lodger and it’s then the demands become increasingly bizarre. Norma Desmond as a character is tragic and sinister – just what you want for a landlady and employer, naturally – and it’s not long before their relationship morphs into something deeply unhealthy. It was the perfect opening film and a great choice in general.
02:10 – Secretary (2002)
I’d almost watched this earlier in the week and was glad I didn’t. Starring Maggie Gyllenhall and the delightfully odd James Spader, this film is clearly a huge influence on the Fifty Shades of Tripe series – there was a distinct ripple of laughter when the name of Spader’s character was revealed as E. Edward Grey. Gyllenhall plays a woman whose urge to self-harm gets her admitted to residential therapy. On her release she struggles to rebuild a normal life, but starts with getting a job as Spader’s secretary. Their professional relationship dissolves into a BDSM one, but brings about a few complications. I was strangely moved by the love story behind it – and there is a kind of love in it – but couldn’t shake off the feeling that when James Spader was younger he looked like a fleshier Hugh Grant. Thankfully he doesn’t act like one, proving that around half of a film’s success is down to casting.
04:10 – Misery (1990)
YES! I got one right! Thank you, girl sitting next to me, for your more extensive knowledge of films revolving around typewriters. This is one I’ve been meaning to see for years and kept forgetting about; my only prior exposure to the story was a terrible Family Guy homage to it. I’m so glad they showed it, because it was by far my favourite of the night. Based on the novel of the same title by Stephen King, the film is, in a word, horrific – in the truest sense of the word. Kathy Bates is wonderful as Annie Wilkes (as an Annie myself, the temptation to adopt her surname is strong) and the cinematography is unflattering to her but effective. I must be getting soft in my old age, as when she ‘hobbles’ Paul Sheldon with a mallet I ended up hiding behind my blanket. The film is dated but only in style and setting; the script, the acting and the cinematography remains as effective as when it was first made.
06:10 – Capote (2005)
At this point it became clear that it was naptime. This film is a quiet, suspenseful story of the case and writing of Truman Capote’s non-fiction book In Cold Blood. At least, I think it is. I fell asleep about twenty minutes in and woke up around the same time before the end. Perhaps this would have been a better second film, as it was so muted compared with the others that I’m sure I wasn’t the only one getting some shut-eye. But from what I saw, I’d be keen to see the rest. It’s also reminded me that I keep meaning to read the book and have never got round to it, so that’s going on my list.
08:10 – Adaptation. (2002)
What’s better than Nicolas Cage in a film? Two Nicolas Cages in a film! (Well, maybe.) The final film was an odd choice which even my friend, whom I have christened the Living IMDb, hadn’t heard of. At this point we were possibly a bit too disoriented to concentrate fully on what is quite a complex meta-film: based on the book The Orchid Thief by Susan Orlean, Cage is a screenwriter (there’s that typewriter again) trying to write a screenplay based The Orchid Thief (yep, the same book), but he’s having some trouble both with that and his life in general. His identical twin brother, also played by Cage, is also trying to be a screenwriter but clearly lacks the heart and passion for it his brother possesses. It’s written by Charlie Kaufman – which is also the main character of the film – whose credits include Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Being John Malkovich. It’s a headfuck of a film, in the best possible way; my advice would be not to watch it when you’ve had less than two hours’ sleep in the last twenty-four. My main criticism of the film is that Cage’s hair is distracting. As in I found myself grimly fascinated with it, like a papercut or squashed bug.
That may have been the tiredness, though. At 10:00 on Saturday morning the lights came back on and we, blinking, stepped into the sun; realising that there was more to see than could ever be seen, and more to do than could ever –
Oh wait, that’s… never mind.
We hung around for the ‘survivors photo’, posing awkwardly through swollen eyes outside the cinema and being gawped at by tourists. The staff were a joy, and absolute credit to them – having done all-night events work myself in the past, I know what a trial it is and how difficult it can be not to become jaded as the night goes on. But the staff clearly love what they do and are passionate about cinema; they really make the event something to get excited about. Hats off to them for being chipper even right at the end of the night. And hats off to their choice of films, as I’ve finally managed to tick a few off my list and it’s given me some pointers on ones I want to explore next.
They’ll be doing a third mystery movie marathon at some point: if you live in London, keep an eye on their website if you’re interested. I would strongly recommend checking out their listings, as you will definitely be able to find something to suit your tastes, however niche – the next thing I’m going to see is a showing of The Phantom of the Opera with a live score from Minima. Chances are that you’ll find something that’s more entertaining than seeing yet another hackneyed sequel in an indifferent chain cinema.
No, I don’t work for them or know anyone who does, and I wasn’t paid to write this post (I wish!).
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