Funny how much I miss the repertory cinema that used to be in the city closest to where I live. It has now been 33 years since it projected its last film (Raging Bull, and I was one of very few people at that screening). And yet, I actually didn’t see many films there while it was in operation. There’s even a new cinema operating out of that location today, and I can’t imagine going there, either.
What I remember best was the massive black-and-white schedule calendars the theatre gave away. Looking at one of these was always overwhelming, with too much information crammed into the box for any given day. You would pore over these things, as curious and baffling as a route map for a massive public transportation system of a city you’ve never been to. I knew at least one person who literally wallpapered their bedroom with these movie schedules.
Now having seen the 2023 documentary Scala!!! Or, the Incredibly Strange Rise and Fall of the World’s Wildest Cinema and How It Influenced a Mixed-up Generation of Weirdos and Misfits, I wonder if the idea of those schedule posters was inspired by the similar ones for London’s famous (perhaps more so infamous) Scala Cinema Club. We’ll see a fair number of the Scala’s version in this film, and I admit theirs were a great deal more colorful and had far greater detail.
The Scala specialized in a wide variety of films that otherwise would have been difficult to see. Among the types of films discussed here are foreign, horror, kung fu and LGBT. Basically, they covered many of the markets underserved by mainstream cinemas. And this was back before most homes had their own VCR’s, and so this was the only way to see a great many of these films.
I imagine it was especially difficult to screen such horror films as the original The Evil Dead in the UK at that time. The 80’s saw the UK media, and many government officials, obsessed with “Video Nasties”. I find it hard to fathom, but those who sold or rented videotapes at the time could (and, in one case, did) serve jail time for providing films such as these.
As for the LGBT films the Scala was one of the few theatres brave enough to screen, I feel that is noble. Still, I didn’t understand this documentary’s obsession with the bathrooms of the theatre and the notorious recreational activities happening in there. Perhaps it is simply my inability to identify with that culture which is not my own, but I suspect I wouldn’t have appreciated all the talk about restroom sex even if I was in that demographic. No, really, there is a disproportionate amount of time spent on this subject in a film that moves at a very brisk pace and which has bonus interviews with a great deal of interesting content that couldn’t be worked in to the movie proper. So, instead of more anecdotes about movies and the moviegoing experience, we have plenty of content about bathroom sex.
Many famous actors and filmmakers were regular patrons of the theatre. Some of the many interviewees here went on to careers in film, but they aren’t among the best known. That’s probably for the best, as the most famous people rarely make for the best interviews. The lesser-knowns tend to be less candid.
Instead, Mary Harron, the eventual director of American Psycho, talks about the surreal experience of waking up during one of the Scala’s all-night film festivals to behold something truly startling on the screen each time. Comedian Paul Putner, whom I know best from his many put-upon characters on Little Britain, shows off his original membership card (and it is nice to see almost everybody on screen still has theirs). Ralph Brown, best known for playing the drug-dealer Danny in Withnail & I, worked in the venue’s coffee shop and resold amphetamines he bought by the garbagebagful from a dealer he modelled that character upon.
One of the most interesting patrons is somebody we only see in archival footage. Mrs. Reeves is a very stereotypical middle-aged British woman who could have walked right out of an old Python sketch. She uses the “royal we” a lot. The gag is she loves violent films and doesn’t understand why anybody thinks they would incite others to emulate them. “I don’t go out of here wanting to chainsaw somebody.”
And yet there were at least two deaths at the venue, though neither was the result of violence (presumably). One person was found unresponsive and slumped over a seat after having a fatal heart attack mid-film. Given some of the fare screened there, that feels almost inevitable. Another incident was a body found on the sidewalk outside which had evidently been a jumper from a high window. That makes 200% more deaths than had happened in my local repertory theatre. Well, at least as far as anybody knows.
The theatre also hosted live acts on occasion, such as early shows by Lou Reed and Iggy & The Stooges. Photos taken at those gigs became the cover art for Transformer and Raw Power, respectively. Other aspects of the music industry represented in this documentary is an original score by Barry Adamson (who is also interviewed), and interviews with The The’s Matt Johnson and The Jesus & Mary Chain’s Douglas Hart.
There were a few contributing factors to the demise of the Scala. One was their decision to screen A Clockwork Orange, despite Kubrick having pulled the film from circulation due to some copycat incidents in the wake of its original release. The theatre could not survive the resulting costly legal battle against Warner Bros. for copyright infringement. But their demise was hastened by the widespread increase in home media following a massive decrease in the cost of videotapes. I find it ironic there likely isn’t any way I would be able to see Scala!!! in a cinema, with the only way I could see it being the blu-ray.
Dir: Ali Catterall, Jane Giles
Documentary
Watched on BFI UK blu-ray (region B)