I had dinner with Neve Campbell the other night. I say ‘dinner’ but it was actually about 1am and we were sat in an almost empty bar at the Park Lane Hilton nursing sore feet from a day at Cartier. This isn’t my normal scene, by the way, but I was invited by a mutual friend and the alcohol was free. It was actually my lack of funds that instigated my conversation with Neve, as she kindly offered me some hummus and a slice of her club sandwich. So anyway, over our hummus and jaw-shatteringly generous portion of turkey and bacon it transpired that Neve lives in London. As an experienced and talented actress living in London, I thought she might be interested in a discussion of the pros and cons of the BFI (fascinating, aren’t I?) Her reply will ripple through the membrane between my ears and skull for a long, long time… “the B-what?”
It was at this moment that I realised something: the lives of every film fan in this city don’t necessarily revolve around that auspicious and hallowed archway beneath Waterloo Bridge. I’m sitting with a globally renowned leading lady who has worked with the likes of Richard Attenborough and Simon Beaufoy, and she doesn’t even know that our national cinema exists!
I suddenly realised that even some of you, my esteemed readers, might not have graced the hallways of that dank, claustrophobic building and felt the weight of cinema history hang down upon your shoulders like a thick down blanket. I have therefore taken it upon myself to explain exactly why everybody in London who likes films needs to spend more time at the BFI.
Firstly, on an historic note, many of you may have visited the site without remembering it. It once housed the Museum of the Moving Image, a world-renowned museum that provided wonder to generations of young film lovers in the 90s. The area taken up by the museum now houses a swanky Benugo bar and a bookshop on all things ‘cinema’. I spent a lot of my childhood at that museum, and the building still holds an air of fantasy and that ethereal magic of the cinema. In a world where the romance and tradition of the cinema has been doused by the behemoth of Multiplexes and vats of Coca Cola, it is so important to have a purely cinematic space like the BFI Southbank where one can soak up the history and magnanimity of the moving image.
On another historical note, this is where the Free Cinema ‘movement’ enjoyed its brief but spectacular residency. In 1956, Lindsay Anderson – along with Karel Reisz, Tony Richardson, and a host of enigmatic young British filmmakers – decided to show a series of films that shared a common spirit: the idea that,
“No film can be too personal.
The image speaks. Sound amplifies and comments.
Size is irrelevant. Perfection is not an aim.
An attitude means a style. A style means an attitude.”
It was considered the first attempt at a genuine National cinema in Britain: the moment we tried to shatter the chains that bound us to Hollywood. The arrival of Channel 4 and the subsequent rise of Frears, Loach, Leigh, et al provided us with a more renowned and identifiable national aesthetic; but this era of British cinema, when Hollywood were desperately waiting to see what Richardson would do after Look Back in Anger, was so important… and it all began under Waterloo Bridge.
On a more practical note, the tickets are much, much cheaper than your local multiplex. There are also no confectionary stands or fizzy drinks, which has the double advantage of saving money and allowing you to watch the whole film without suffering a herd of imbeciles thoughtlessly grazing on monosodium glutamate all around you.
The range of films means that there is something for everybody: For example, Film Fundays, held on one Sunday every month, is a double-bill showing one children’s film and then one family friendly film (usually an old classic for the parents.) It is a great opportunity to spend a day at the pictures, followed (or preceded) by a leisurely walk along the Southbank to give the kids some exercise and fresh air.
At every screening you are provided with a ‘one-sheet’ which usually contains the Sight & Sound review for the film you are watching, followed by an interview with the film’s director. The sheet also provides you with all the production details and a list of similar events and screenings in the coming weeks. It really is a wonderful experience for a film lover; it reminds you that loving films is an artistic passion that should be cherished and nurtured, not a mindless hobby that should be exploited by popcorn vendors.
The final reason, and perhaps my ulterior motive for writing this piece, is that we film lovers are under threat at the BFI Southbank. The extension of the cinema into the old museum a few years ago may have provided us with space for a wonderful bookshop, multimedia gallery, and workspace; but it also provided ample space for a kitsch and overly fashionable bar. Was it Roosevelt that said, “Build it and they will come”? Either way, this is exactly what has happened, and the cinema is now crammed full of ‘hipsters’ and ‘media-types’ in colourful clothes, thick-rimmed glasses, and side partings.
The recent renovation of the riverside bar has amplified the problem by providing a breeding ground for these media darlings. They now occupy both ends of the building and they are closing in fast. Now, if you want to reach the actual screening rooms, you have to force your way through crowds of these mojito-sipping, Skins-loving heretics. We need your help!
Firstly I suggest destroying the Benugo enterprise by showing up in great numbers and spending so long ordering glasses of tap water and complimentary olives that nobody has time to serve our nemeses (who could easily head over to the OXO tower or some other neutral territory). We would then be free to bask in the loneliness of our weird, wonderful, and poverty-inducing love of the cinema.
If you do decide to go on the basis of my recommendation, then please mention my name somewhere, maybe I’ll get some free tickets!
It was at this moment that I realised something: the lives of every film fan in this city don’t necessarily revolve around that auspicious and hallowed archway beneath Waterloo Bridge. I’m sitting with a globally renowned leading lady who has worked with the likes of Richard Attenborough and Simon Beaufoy, and she doesn’t even know that our national cinema exists!
I suddenly realised that even some of you, my esteemed readers, might not have graced the hallways of that dank, claustrophobic building and felt the weight of cinema history hang down upon your shoulders like a thick down blanket. I have therefore taken it upon myself to explain exactly why everybody in London who likes films needs to spend more time at the BFI.
Firstly, on an historic note, many of you may have visited the site without remembering it. It once housed the Museum of the Moving Image, a world-renowned museum that provided wonder to generations of young film lovers in the 90s. The area taken up by the museum now houses a swanky Benugo bar and a bookshop on all things ‘cinema’. I spent a lot of my childhood at that museum, and the building still holds an air of fantasy and that ethereal magic of the cinema. In a world where the romance and tradition of the cinema has been doused by the behemoth of Multiplexes and vats of Coca Cola, it is so important to have a purely cinematic space like the BFI Southbank where one can soak up the history and magnanimity of the moving image.
On another historical note, this is where the Free Cinema ‘movement’ enjoyed its brief but spectacular residency. In 1956, Lindsay Anderson – along with Karel Reisz, Tony Richardson, and a host of enigmatic young British filmmakers – decided to show a series of films that shared a common spirit: the idea that,
“No film can be too personal.
The image speaks. Sound amplifies and comments.
Size is irrelevant. Perfection is not an aim.
An attitude means a style. A style means an attitude.”
It was considered the first attempt at a genuine National cinema in Britain: the moment we tried to shatter the chains that bound us to Hollywood. The arrival of Channel 4 and the subsequent rise of Frears, Loach, Leigh, et al provided us with a more renowned and identifiable national aesthetic; but this era of British cinema, when Hollywood were desperately waiting to see what Richardson would do after Look Back in Anger, was so important… and it all began under Waterloo Bridge.
On a more practical note, the tickets are much, much cheaper than your local multiplex. There are also no confectionary stands or fizzy drinks, which has the double advantage of saving money and allowing you to watch the whole film without suffering a herd of imbeciles thoughtlessly grazing on monosodium glutamate all around you.
The range of films means that there is something for everybody: For example, Film Fundays, held on one Sunday every month, is a double-bill showing one children’s film and then one family friendly film (usually an old classic for the parents.) It is a great opportunity to spend a day at the pictures, followed (or preceded) by a leisurely walk along the Southbank to give the kids some exercise and fresh air.
At every screening you are provided with a ‘one-sheet’ which usually contains the Sight & Sound review for the film you are watching, followed by an interview with the film’s director. The sheet also provides you with all the production details and a list of similar events and screenings in the coming weeks. It really is a wonderful experience for a film lover; it reminds you that loving films is an artistic passion that should be cherished and nurtured, not a mindless hobby that should be exploited by popcorn vendors.
The final reason, and perhaps my ulterior motive for writing this piece, is that we film lovers are under threat at the BFI Southbank. The extension of the cinema into the old museum a few years ago may have provided us with space for a wonderful bookshop, multimedia gallery, and workspace; but it also provided ample space for a kitsch and overly fashionable bar. Was it Roosevelt that said, “Build it and they will come”? Either way, this is exactly what has happened, and the cinema is now crammed full of ‘hipsters’ and ‘media-types’ in colourful clothes, thick-rimmed glasses, and side partings.
The recent renovation of the riverside bar has amplified the problem by providing a breeding ground for these media darlings. They now occupy both ends of the building and they are closing in fast. Now, if you want to reach the actual screening rooms, you have to force your way through crowds of these mojito-sipping, Skins-loving heretics. We need your help!
Firstly I suggest destroying the Benugo enterprise by showing up in great numbers and spending so long ordering glasses of tap water and complimentary olives that nobody has time to serve our nemeses (who could easily head over to the OXO tower or some other neutral territory). We would then be free to bask in the loneliness of our weird, wonderful, and poverty-inducing love of the cinema.
If you do decide to go on the basis of my recommendation, then please mention my name somewhere, maybe I’ll get some free tickets!
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