I can tell you this year's EIFF has nearly taken it out of
me. I decided to go for a swim this morning to try and remember what its like
to not be in a cinema and to feel...well just to feel anything to be honest. In
the last two weeks, my muscles for doing anything physical have atrophied into a
sitting half awake position and consequently I sank to the bottom of the pool
like a stone the second I jumped in.
There whilst quietly and calmly drowning,
elements of all the films I've seen played themselves out for me in a
hallucinatory underwater montage. Oh look, there's Charlotte Gainsbourg diving
to the bottom and picking up a pair of rusty scissors. What's she doing with
them? Oh no no no...AND CLEAR!...TTTZZZZZ THADUMP!
It's amazing what CPR, mouth to mouth and electrical shock
pads can do to a wet, comatose film journalist.
Before I describe the ATP party, I must first give an
honourable mention to the Le Donk & Scorz-Ayz-Ee party that followed
Shane Meadows hilarious new film of the same name a couple of nights
previously. A spoof rockumentary about a band roadie played by the brilliant
Paddy Considine, Meadows allegedly shot this low-to-no-budget faux documentary
with friends and favours in a mere five days.
In keeping in with the film's spirit as well as its
budget, the party was hacked together for a mere £300 and had the (deliberate)
feel and look of a rubbish school disco. Even the invites on photocopied bits
of paper were crap. Held in St Peter's Hall in Edinburgh's SouthSide, there
were help yourself buckets of a dark malty lager, free tequila, a few balloons
and a DJ. Paddy Considine and Nottingham rapper Scorz-Ayz-Ee turned up and
remained in character throughout. Scorz-Ayz-Ee performed a filthy bad taste but
hilarious rap, which involved a young lady's nostrils. I'll let you're
imagination run riot on that one and Considine lent equally dubious support by
rapping badly and reading his lines off a cardboard box. It was the funniest
thing I've seen this festival.
Overall it was a slow burning event and took a while
to pick up a head of steam but once it got going there was a fair crowd dancing
away and outside the inevitable crowd of smokers watched the legendary Scottish
Har roll in from nearby Arthur's Seat and envelop the church in its ghostly
haze.
They also had a raffle with really rubbish prizes and
you were allowed to take fistfuls of tickets out the box to increase your
chances. I didn't win anything but one woman did win the giant inflatable
banana and then spent half an hour kicking it around the venue. It was a fun
and laid back event and there should definitely be more like them. Maybe we
could all start a ‘low budget film and low budget party' film festival as
a'short' to the ‘main feature' in future years.
All Tomorrow's Parties
And now to the big flashier and more expensive event. So my last stand at having fun so you
don't have to was at last night's UK premiere of All Tomorrow's Parties (see
previous blog). It was a thoroughly enjoyable romp that lived up to the hype.
I
arrived in plenty of time to wrangle my ticket and discovered a fairly hefty
queue stretching up Lothian Road. There were also three donkeys parked by the
entrance and a church organ that seemed to play itself. Well, what else would
you expect to see there? It is the dodgy end of Lothian Road after all.
I joined the queue and was immediately set upon by Butlins
style camp attendants with loudhailers, or perhaps they were air-stewards. They
told me how nice it was to see me back again for another summer and they were
looking forward to doing with me again what we apparently got up to last year
before I escaped and they moved onto another hapless victim and tortured him
with their all-in-the-best-possible-taste nonsense.
A skiffle band of sorts struck up and semi-naked Hawaiian
hula dancers gyrated their stuff.
Then as you entered the foyer a tall princess
in a pink ballroom gown dished out bingo cards for later on whilst a slightly
camp, er, well, camp attendant harangued us all with compliments and innuendo.
Up the stairs and as you pass between the landing and the
doors that take you into the venue, a small rock band were literally crushed
into a tight corner, playing away as we passed them. They had a mere two
fans dressed like 60's hippies who danced like it was Woodtsock all over again.
Once you're in the venue it really is something.
It's a
terrific space. It was a beautiful cinema in the old days called The Caley
before it was closed down and turned into the horrors that were Revolution and
Century 2000. I saw The Empire Strikes Back there on its giant screen in 1980
and then the next time I went it was the opening of the nightclub.
I stood
there with my jaw agape and tried not cry. Parked right next to the Subway
club, the two venues took Lothian Road's reputation and character on a massive
nosedive. Walking safely past this area late at night at the weekend usually
involved having an armed escort. The police and local residents must be
breathing a sigh of relief for the first time in years.
That someone has bothered to not just turn it into a music
venue but actually half restore it to its former glory with the added potential
of showing films as last night proved gives me hope for the human race. For how
many examples are there of something beautiful being replaced by crap and then returning
it to something beautiful again?
The HMV Picture House is a phoenix from the ashes and with
Edinburgh's reputation for trying to and often succeeding in closing down every
decent music, film and arts venue (The Old Bongo Club, The Venue, The Old Odeon,
an attempt on The Queens Hall, etc. etc.) and combined with the loss of La Belle
Angelle, The Gilded Balloon, The Bridge Jazz Bar in the Old Town Fire we have
this new place, a rallying cry to stick two fingers up to all the corruption, short-sightedness
and disgrace of the men in charge.
I can't remember, but I believe there's an
arts festival sometime later in the year and it might be handy if we didn't
shut down all the available spaces and turn them into fast food outlets,
nightclubs and modern new build homes when there's plenty of beautiful empty
buildings ready to convert. Just a thought.
Anyway, I digress. Inside the venue the seaside resort theme
continued. There was a smiling, waving sunbather on a deckchair, throw the
sponge, hook a duck, a cocktail terrace, free ice cream, a ukulele band, a
puppet show and eventually bingo.
Scattered throughout, attractive attendants
with loudhailers busied themselves with organisational duties and some
cheerleading beach ball girls danced through the crowd smiling and giggling all
the way.
It was a terrific effort and the bonus for me was
discovering the beautiful balcony area with its red velvet-ish seating area
high above with its own bar and another band squeezed into another corner to
boot.
Two large video screens showed an endless montage of archive holiday camp
footage and for a while I was alarmed at the prospect that this might be the
film I'd come to see.
Eventually it was time for the actual film which I
thoroughly enjoyed (see previous blog) followed by the incredible tinnitus
enhancing excellence of Mogwai.
All in all, the organisers put on a great show. It reminded
me of Edinburgh's very own equivalent, many years ago, in the form of Fred
Deakin's Going Places Club which took over equally large venues in similar
fashion.
Deakin eventually moved to London, but took the Going Places idea there
and refashioned it as Impotent Fury at the 333 Club in Old Street. There it was
spin the wheel, crazy golf and all manner of fun interactive madness. Like last
night's ATP event there's obviously a need for these kind of nostalgic
flashbacks in a big way.
ATP have other events on in the future including Grizzly
Bear at KOKO in Camden on August 18th.
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