Cinema

Seeking inspiration for today’s writing group submission I wandered a lane taking me to a time where I wore a younger man’s clothes. Well, to be more accurate, when I wore a young boy’s clothes… That reminds me, I need to return those clothes to the young boy; after all, I have had them for over 40 years!!

The topic requiring my undivided literary attention being cinema. Not the incredibly comfortable mega screens of this era. No, GJ Strachan choosing to write of a time where movie theatres were flea pits. Lumpy seated venues filled with folk whose chain smoking meant films were viewed through a haze of cigarette smoke.

The celluloid offerings I viewed predominantly played out in the Classic cinema in Low Fell, Gateshead. A small suburban cinema with three theatres, the biggest of which showed the blockbusters of that era. The other two more diminutive screens treating locals to more niche movies.

The first film I witnessed here, which wasn’t draw by Walt Disney’s animators, was Live & Let Die. It was 1973 and having witnessed Roger Moore’s first adventure in James Bond’s shoes, this impressionable 10-year-old left the theatre longing to grow into someone as cool as 007. 

Even missing bits of the audio due to brother Ian’s cacophonous slurping of cola cube sweets throughout could not sully my brio levels as we emerged back into the daylight at the thriller’s denouement.

The experiences only downside dad turning down my request to adapt the family car to emit oil slicks, smoke screens, and return machine gun fire. Bereft of my usual pragmatism, my mood wasn’t eased when he pointed out our paths rarely cross with SPECTRE; making the cost of these adaptations prohibitive and pointless.

A good few years later, as a pubescent teenager, I recall surreptitiously sneaking into Cinema Screen 3 to watch soft porn movie Emmanuelle. The clandestine mission taken as I was inquisitive to witness what all the fuss was about this movie. Particularly why every few hours groups of old men in trench coats were seen leaving the building puce of face and shifty of demeanour.

I left the cinema with a better understanding of the female form, along with the knowledge Emmanuelle had the same bone china tea set as one my aunts.

In those pre-video days, the three cinemas were heavily patronised by Low Fell folk, whose only other entertainment at that time was getting their haircut at Thow’s barbers. This a popular glass fronted shop on the opposite side of the Durham Road to the Classic cinema.

If you were really struggling to occupy yourself and didn’t need a haircut, you could visit Cranston’s watch repairers. If the family’s timepieces were in working order, you could always visit the sweet shop adjacent to Cranston’s (whose name evades me presently) for a packet of Spangles.

If my cohorts and I weren’t playing football or visiting the cinema, our utopian Low Fell day would entail James Thow cutting your locks while you ate Spangles; followed by a visit to Cranston’s because your watch stopped. Ah, happy days… Having a reliable watch, though, did rob me of many an interesting hour in Cranstons the jewellers.

From recollection Mr Cranston was an incredibly timid, nervous looking man. I once brought up this observation with my mum after visiting his shop. She advised he’d recently been beaten up and burgled… I couldn’t help thinking, perhaps, he should have adapted his shop counter to emit oil slicks, a smoke screen and return machine gun fire.

Don’t get me wrong, Low Fell was a great place to grow up, However, as with many places at that time, if you couldn’t occupy yourself with sport or the cinema, entertainment options were limited. 

It was a fact of life and I feel blessed that childhood was spent in the 1970s, as opposed to these Spangleless times where watches are as disposal as political pledges and Mr Cranston would have been robbed of an income stream.

I saw some great movies at the Low Fell Classic over the years, until its closure in the mid-1980s. Amongst them all of Roger Moore’s portrayals of Bond, Jaws, a raft of re-released Carry On movies, Mel Brookes comedies and Crocodile Dundee.

Carry On movies providing life lessons now frowned upon in my adulthood; their misogynistic advocacies not ageing well. Me learning the hard way after attempting to gain access to the ladies ward with the ghosts of Sid James and Bernard Bresslaw during a hospital stay a few years ago… Does anyone know if restraining orders have an expiry date?

As alluded to earlier, the Classic cinema on Low Fell was demolished decades ago. I haven’t lived in the northeast of England for 37 years, however, I believe housing stands where a projectionist, ticket collector and usherettes once plied their trades.

As for Cranston’s watch repairers and the adjacent sweet shop I’m not certain what became of them. Spangles, though, bit the bullet around the time the Classic was flattened.

I understand Thow’s barbers still resides in the same place on Durham Road. It will have a great deal more entertainment competition these days; however, I am sure it’s still as fulfilling an experience having your ‘ears lowered’ there.

Right, I need to get going; my watch has just stopped!