It was a shock to Edinburgh filmgoers when Filmhouse on Lothian Road closed in 2022 due to the collapse of its parent company.

I walked past the cinema a couple of times after its closure when it was boarded up and empty, a sad sight indeed.

Thankfully, Filmhouse has been saved and is now open again and running as a registered charity with the support of Edinburgh City Council, Creative and Screen Scotland, the Nancie Massie Charitable Fund, the Community Ownership Fund, and the loyal support of its public.

On this bitterly cold but bright and sunny January day, I walked along the path by the icy Union Canal and then on to Filmhouse to see my first film of 2026, ‘The Illusionist’, a heartwarming animated film released in 2010 (not to be confused with the 2006 film of the same name starring Edward Norton, Jessica Biel, Paul Giamatti, et al.).

The Filmhouse bar was buzzing this Saturday afternoon. I had a pre-film hot chocolate to warm myself up before buying a pint of excellent hoppy Meadows Pale by Edinburgh brewery Barney’s Beer to take in to the screening.

Screen 4 is a cosy 24-seater with comfy chairs in vivid green.

Today’s showing was sold out, a far cry from the sparsely attended midweek showings which I normally frequent at various cinemas. The aircon in the room was a bit chilly but nothing like the cold damp ordeal of Murrayfield Stadium this time last week when I sat frozen to my seat in the West Stand through a turgid encounter between Edinburgh Rugby and Glasgow Warriors, a match so grim that after only sixty minutes I was praying for the referee to blow her whistle to end the game and put us out our misery.

‘The Illusionist’ is a short film, just 80 minutes. It is completely captivating, buoyed by a lively soundtrack which contrasts with the sparse, fragmented, but very effective dialogue.

The impoverished and itinerant old man who plays the eponymous main character ekes out a living by performing in theatres to small, unresponsive and apathetic audiences. The drudgery of his existence is lightened by the occasional good gig and more importantly by the platonic companionship of a young woman who accompanies him from the Scottish Highlands to seek a new life in Edinburgh.

Visually, ‘The Illusionist’ looks great. It’s mostly set in Edinburgh and although some artistic liberties are taken, the street scenes and the castle and Arthur’s Seat are all instantly recognizable and familiar.

‘The Illusionist’ is a wonderful film, a perfect choice to kick off the new year.

After the film ended, I walked home along Morrison Street, Dalry Road and Gorgie Road. A jittery hush had descended on Tynecastle Stadium where Hearts were nervously hanging on to a 1-0 lead against Livingston.

My weather app said that the temperature was zero degrees but ‘feels like -11’, so I scurried on home as fast as I could to get out the freezing cold.

The post ‘The Illusionist’, Filmhouse, Edinburgh appeared first on Silver Screen Cities: Celebrating city cinema-going.

Silver Screen Cities is delighted to publish this guest post by Pierre Pageau, author of Les Salles de Cinéma au Québec, 1896-2008 (Les Editions GID, ISBN 9782896340323).

I am a Montréaler (Québec, Canada). Always have been. As a teen I lived in the suburb city of Lachine and I saw movies in two movie theaters close to my home: the Empress (1912-1968; 900 seats) and the Royal Alexandra (1914-1967; 1050 seats). One week a theater did try something new: showing two movies (the standard at the time, 1950-1960) by the same director:  Alfred Hitchcock. So, I went to see ‘Vertigo’ and ‘To Catch A Thief’. It’s obvious that ‘Vertigo’ impressed me the most. Also, in the same years, in Lachine, the Canadian Army had build the Eastern Manning Depot – 1956-1959, and there was a movie theater there.  That theater was for the soldiers and their children.  But I found a way to sneak in, always afraid that the soldiers at the entrance would find out that I was not supposed to be there.  It was in that theater that I saw a great number of Singing Westerns featuring the likes of Roy Rogers and Gene Autry.

After that I really had a tremendous experience of cinema in a beautiful palace, the Cinéma Impérial (1913; 1904 seats; on Bleury Street, near Mayor).  The long story is that my father had a fur store and he would design and create furs after seeing movies. He would design, for instance, a ‘Bette Davis’ fur.  My father had learned his craft in New York with members of the Jewish community, and had kept some friends that were working on Mayor Street. He would bring me with him. The Cinéma Impérial is just on the other side of that street.  So, he would bring me with him to see his Jewish friends, but after that he would bring me to see the first Cinerama movies:  ‘Cinerama’ (in 1954- I was 8 years old) and ‘This Is Cinerama’ (1955).

Seeing these movies, at that time, was great fun. Then, my parents decided to send me to a boarding school, where almost all my teachers were priests or Brothers; they had a great quality – they all loved movies.  With them came my first Ciné-Club experiences. The first movie I saw was ‘The Little Fugitive’(made in 1953, New York); for me it was a great shock – in the movie the young boy found and sold old items to a scrap yard, and I did exactly the same at the same age.  So, movies could also be a real reproduction of Life.

After that I wanted to see more of the auteur movies. And I found them in Montréal, when I could skip my boarding college.  Many good theaters existed that would give me the chance to see the movies of Godard, Bergman, Buñuel, Truffaut, and so on.  These important movie theaters for me were, first, the Empire on Ogilvy Street, in Park Extension. It opened in 1937. In August 1964 it became a ‘cinéma de répertoire’ and was programmed by Roland Smith for a few years.   But the most important cinema for me was L’Élysée (the complete French name was Le Centre d’Art de l’Élysée Inc.). This ‘art theatre’ already had two screens in 1960-1961, which was very rare: Room 1 was called Salle Eisenstein (150 seats) and Room 2 was called Salle Renoir (600 seats).

Another very important repertory theater for me was the Cinéma Verdi on Boulevard Saint-Laurent.  It opened in 1912 under the name Canada Moving Picture Theatre, devoted to Vaudeville and Motion Pictures. It changed name in 1957 to become the Cinéma Verdi, under the direction of Bernardo Celci. In December 1966 Roland Smith took over this theater and it became a repertory movie theater.  There I would see movies of John Cassavetes, Keaton, Pasolini, and weeks dedicated to political movies. This movie adventure at the Verdi came to an end in April 1973.  Already in 1971 Smith had concluded a contract with a very beautiful neighborhood palace, the 1442-seat Outremont, which opened in 1929.  Here again we have a very important piece of movie theater history in Montréal, specially dedicated to auteur films.  Smith would program this movie theater from 1971 to 1987.

There were many other art film theaters in Montréal and beyond, in Québec City, Sherbrooke, so on, but they generally had a short life span. In Québec, as elsewhere, the arrival of television (1952-1961) caused a great decline in cinema attendance. To maintain the old one-screen theaters the formula of ‘arthouse theaters’ (or Repertory theaters) and also the erotic formula were necessary.  But by the end of the seventies they were all closed and then came the Multiplex era. That is another story.

Pierre Pageau

The post My Montréal Movie Theaters – Guest Post by Pierre Pageau appeared first on Silver Screen Cities: Celebrating city cinema-going.

Before the film I had time to drop by Aitken’s Wine Warehouse where the temptations are infinite.

I came out with a bottle of Akrathos Assyrtiko dry white wine from Newlands Winery in Halkidiki plus a bottle of Tobermory Gin from the Isle of Mull. I’d already had a bottle of the Akrathos and rated it a 10 so I knew it would be good. The Tobermory Gin also turned out to be very good, radiating a rich lively lingering flavour.

https://www.theguardian.com/film/2024/sep/24/on-falling-review-the-strip-mining-of-an-online-warehouse-workers-sanity With the two bottles stashed in my backpack, I headed down from Hawkhill to DCA to see ‘On Falling’, written and directed by Edinburgh-based Laura Carreira.   

The film follows Aurora, a Portuguese migrant working in a warehouse somewhere in Scotland. Though don’t expect any uplifting Visit Scotland imagery as the film is shot indoors or, for a few scenes, outside at night.

This all-pervading lack of daylight and sunshine in ‘On Falling’ reinforces the oppressive limitations of Aurora’s life as she works a thankless job where excellent performance is insultingly rewarded by a bar of chocolate, as if the warehouse workers are mere children with no rights to respect or appreciation.

Joana Santos is excellent as Aurora in an understated, downbeat performance devoid of self-pity despite the constantly stressful breadline existence Aurora is enduring.

There are moments of humour scattered through the film that alleviate the gloom and affirm a consoling solidarity between Aurora and the other workers who are struggling to get by in a brutal low-wage economy.

‘On Falling’ is a wonderful film that fully deserves the accolades it has received, such as Winner of Silver Shell for Best Director at the 72^nd San Sebastian Film Festival 2024 and Winner of Best Actress Award at the Thessaloniki Film Festival 2024.

After the film it was a short stroll along Perth Road for a fish supper at Tay Fry Inn washed down with a can of Scotland’s other national drink, Irn Bru.

The post ‘On Falling’, Dundee Contemporary Arts (DCA), Dundee appeared first on Silver Screen Cities: Celebrating city cinema-going.

A dreary grey January day in Glasgow, brightened up by a visit to Glasgow Film Theatre just off Sauchiehall Street to see ‘A Real Pain’, written and directed by Jesse Eisenberg.

The showing I went to see was at 8.30 pm in Screen 1. About half an hour before showtime I was loitering in the lobby of the cinema when a tsunami of people came gushing down the stairs which lead up to that auditorium. The sudden appearance of such a huge mob of people was startling and I retreated to the street outside to let the pandemonium subside.

When the coast was clear I headed back into the cinema. I asked the ticket-taker at Screen 1 about the crowd of people and he said it was a private screening for a charity organisation. He added, ‘When I came in today I was expecting a quiet shift. I had to switch gears quickly!’

Screen 1 at GFT is a wonderful auditorium. It’s large, elegant and comfortable, with a decent-sized screen.

Before the main film there was a showing of a very entertaining 3-minute Norwegian short film titled ‘Ball’ by Fridtjof Stensaeth Josefson. It was very funny, a perfect appetizer for the main film.

‘A Real Pain’ turned out to be brilliant. Funny in parts, it is also very poignant in places. Kieran Culkin is very good as Benji Kaplan, the volatile troubled cousin of the more staid David Kaplan played by Jesse Eisenberg. The awkward chemistry between the two works very well, helped by an excellent script.

Another highlight of this film is Will Sharpe’s performance as humble self-effacing tour guide James. The encounters between James and Benji are emotionally loaded and quite gripping.

The horrors of the Holocaust are conveyed in a very sensitive, moving way as the tour group visits one of the concentration camps in Poland.

The ending of ‘A Real Pain’ perfectly captures the different paths that the two cousins’ lives have taken.

The post ‘A Real Pain’, Glasgow Film Theatre appeared first on Silver Screen Cities: Celebrating city cinema-going.

On a trip to Edinburgh a couple of weeks ago I visited the exhibition ‘Adam Bruce Thomson: The Quiet Path’ at City Art Centre, which is very conveniently located if you are arriving by train as the venue is just over the road from Waverley station.

Adam Bruce Thomson was a well established figure in the Edinburgh art scene during his lifetime but has been somewhat overlooked in recent years.

Hence this major retrospective exhibition at City Art Centre.

The exhibition exceeded my expectations – I thought it was going to be good without being exceptional, but it turned out to be superb.

As the informative wall panels mentioned, Adam Bruce Thomson ‘was never at the cutting edge of modernism’, but what makes his work so appealing is how he integrates elements of art movements such as cubism and expressionism to elevate his art, his landscapes in particular, above run-of-the-mill straight representation.

The skies in his landscapes are quite stunning.

Many of his paintings reminded me of the ‘Expressionists: Kandinsky, Münter and The Blue Rider’ exhibition I visited recently at Tate Modern in London. Works by Thomson such as ‘Cedars’ (c.1931) and ‘At Colinton’ (c.1937) would not have been out of place in that exhibition.

With Adam Bruce Thomson, there is a striking contrast between the sharply drawn geometric precision of architectural features and the wild expressive skies and trees that swirl around the solidity of the buildings in each scene. His 1930s oil on canvas ‘Achnaba’ is a prime example of this. The squat solid church in the centre of the frame is set off against a backdrop of mountains and sky that have a dramatic life of their own.

Other memorable paintings with a strong expressionistic feel include ‘Park and Ruined Abbey’ (c.1961), ‘The River Tweed above Melrose’ (before 1966), and ‘Loch Carron Shore’ (c.1968).

The influence of fauvism on Adam Bruce Thomson can be seen in the extravagantly coloured ‘Palm, Pampas Grass and Duncraig’ (c.1967). When I saw this painting, I assumed it was a landscape from the Mediterranean so I was surprised to learn that it’s actually of Plockton in the West Highlands.

What a fabulous exhibition this is.

Spread over two floors of the City Art Centre, it brilliantly succeeds in showcasing Thomson’s contribution to Scottish art.

On the way out, I bought the exhibition book authored by Dr Helen E. Scott and then headed over to the New Town to drop by the marvellously quirky Library of Mistakes tucked away down Melville Street Lan. Many thanks to David for letting in me for a look around this unique venue.

Back in Dundee, I went to DCA to see the 2024 documentary ‘Wilding’, directed by David Allen and telling the story of married couple Isabella Tree and Charlie Burrell as they attempt to redress decades of over-exploitation of their farmland by restoring nature through the re-introduction of native ponies, pigs, cattle and birds.

It’s an inspiring and beautiful film showing what can be done to encourage nature to revive and prosper, especially if the rewilding is done at scale as in the ambition for a wildlife corridor stretching from their farm as far as the coast.

Opposition from neighbouring farmers and landowners has to be overcome, as not everyone buys into the rewilding vision.

With a relatively short running time of 1 hour 15 minutes, the film doesn’t really delve into the economics of farming and rewilding; maybe that could the subject of a separate film.

After ‘Wilding’ finished, the post-film meal took place at The Maker on Perth Road, an excellent dish of venison frites washed down with a pint of local craft brewery 71’s Close Encounters of the Thirst Kind IPA.

Related Post: ‘Evil Does Not Exist’, The Garden Cinema London

The post ‘Wilding’, Dundee Contemporary Arts (DCA) appeared first on Silver Screen Cities: Celebrating city cinema-going.

It was grey and overcast in London as I walked along Victoria Embankment by the river, dodging the runners and the selfie-taking tourists.

At Waterloo Bridge I crossed the Thames and headed to Tate Modern for the Expressionists exhibition, a celebration of Wassily Kandinsky, Gabriele Münter, and The Blue Rider Group which Kandinsky and Münter and their artist friends created in Munich in the early years of the 20^th century.  

The deep, bold, vibrant colours of many of the paintings on display contrasted with the flat grey London backdrop outside.

Highlights of the exhibition included Kandinsky’s ‘Murnau with Church I’ (1910), with its church tower heaving into view from an abstract mass of rich colours; the weirdly hypnotic elongated geometric forms of Lyonel Feininger’s ‘Gelmeroda III’ (1913) in a much more subdued palette than most of the rest of the exhibition; Gabriele Münter’s ‘Kandinsky and Erma Bossi at the Table’ (1912), an expressionist take on a cosy domestic scene; the molten lava eyes of Marianne Werefkin’s ‘Self-Portrait’ (1910); and Franz Marc’s fabulous ‘Deer in the Woods II’ (1912), the deer snuggled down resting in woods of amazing colours and forms and movement.

After visiting the exhibition, I scurried back along the river, crossed over at the Hungerford Footbridges and on the other side descended into the depths of Charing Cross train station for a meal at MOC Kitchen Vietnamese restaurant.

The set lunch of prawn spring rolls and pork belly with rice, washed down with a bottle of Hanoi beer, was very good.

From there I walked over to De Hems Dutch Café Bar on the edge of Chinatown where I had an IJwit Amsterdam wheat beer, great flavour and very refreshing.

De Hems stocks some great Dutch and Belgian beers, including some very tempting tripels, but today’s film beckoned so there wasn’t time to have anything apart from the IJwit.

Prince Charles Cinema was the venue for this evening’s film, ‘I Used to be Funny’, written and directed by Ally Pankiw, who also directed the first series of the wonderful ‘Feel Good’ starring Mae Martin and Charlotte Ritchie.

As happened on my previous visit to this cinema, before the film started we were treated to an entertaining John Waters recorded video asking punters in no uncertain terms to switch off their mobile phones. This evening’s audience duly complied.

Having seen the trailer for ‘I Used to be Funny’, I had high hopes for this indie film and it certainly delivered.

The two main characters are terrific – Rachel Sennott as standup Sam and Olga Petsa as troubled teen Brooke.

The supporting cast are great too, Sabrina Jalees (Paige) and Caleb Hearon (Philip) bringing a lot of warmth and humour to the film, letting Sam live with them rent-free whilst she gets back on her feet and supporting her through her recovery from a horrific experience.

There are plenty laughs in this film despite the hard trauma running through it.

For those of us on the outside, ‘I Used To Be Funny’ offers an affectionate glimpse into the world of standup comedy with all its bitchiness and camaraderie: ‘He’s still doing Frasier jokes’, Philip comments caustically at one point from backstage before a quick cut to the standup in question delivering a line about Niles’ predilections.

In an era of smug, bloated, 3-4 hour long Hollywood movies from major studios, it’s so refreshing to see an exquisitely crafted indie film like ‘I Used to be Funny’ telling a great story with wit and style, and carrying it off in one hour forty-five minutes. This film is so enjoyable I might go see it again in the next few days.

Related posts: ‘The Long Goodbye’, Prince Charles Cinema London; ‘Sightseers’, Prince Charles Cinema London

The post ‘I Used To Be Funny’, Prince Charles Cinema London appeared first on Silver Screen Cities: Celebrating city cinema-going.

The scheduling of this film was poignant, as it was a year to the day that Japanese composer and musician Ryuichi Sakamoto died.

‘Ryuichi Sakamoto – Opus’ is pretty minimalist.

There is no orchestra and there are no cuts to interviews with Sakamoto or tributes from friends.

It is just an hour and three quarters of Sakamoto at the piano playing his repertoire. And it’s absolutely engrossing, the effect of the film heightened by its being shot in austere black and white, which avoids the distraction that bright colours may have introduced.

Sakamoto’s performance is beautifully filmed in a series of exquisitely framed shots that could stand on their own as an exhibition of photographic stills.

Sometimes the camera zooms in on Sakamoto’s hands spidering across the piano keys whilst at other times the focus is on his face or silhouette.

Occasionally the camera lingers on some of the studio equipment, microphones and cables, a physical grounding that contrasts with the ethereal music.

The first twenty minutes of the film were slightly marred by some clown in the back row of the cinema scoffing crisps out of a loudly rustling bag. Not ideal when the film is such a quiet, intense cinematic experience.

But I had a pint of 71 Brewing Jute City beer nestled in my seat’s cup-holder to console me so all was not lost.

You might think that 103 minutes of one person sitting at a piano might drag a bit, but that was not the case at all.

‘Ryuichi Sakamoto – Opus’ is superb and could have gone on for longer without losing its magic.

After the film we left DCA and walked along Perth Road to The Maker, which has quickly established itself as a great new restaurant in Dundee.

As we tucked into delicious croquettes, pulled pork and salad, a boisterous crowd could be heard enjoying a show in the restaurant’s basement.

Related Post: ‘Ryuichi Sakamoto: Coda’, Dundee Contemporary Arts (DCA)

The post ‘Ryuichi Sakamoto – Opus’, Dundee Contemporary Arts (DCA) appeared first on Silver Screen Cities: Celebrating city cinema-going.

Surrealism is characterised by unnatural or irrational juxtapositions that have a jarring or unsettling effect.

Whoever programmes cultural events in Brussels seems to have taken this to heart by scheduling two major exhibitions on surrealism to run at the same time, an irrational and unsettling juxtaposition which meant that I had to choose between visiting IMAGINE! 100 Years of International Surrealism at the Royal Museums of Fine Arts of Belgium or Histoire de ne pas rire. Surrealism in Belgium at the Palais des Beaux-Arts, also known as Bozar.

A double doze of surrealism in one day would have been too much, so I opted for the Bozar exhibition as it is unlikely that there will be another exhibition on Belgian surrealism any time soon once the current one is finished, whereas there’s more chance that there will be other exhibitions about international surrealism.  

I got a very good, buttery croissant at the nearby Gare Centrale before heading over to Bozar on Rue Ravenstein.

The Palais des Beaux Arts is an elegant art deco building designed by architect Victor Horta, who was better known for his art nouveau creations than for art deco. The building was intended to connect the upper and lower levels of the city, a cultural centre for art exhibitions, musical performances, film showings, and other events.

The Histoire de ne pas rire exhibition extended across several rooms. It was a brilliant tribute to Belgian surrealism, though heavily weighted towards René Magritte whose paintings seemed to constitute half of the overall exhibition. Not that I’m complaining – you can never have too much Magritte, he is wonderful – but the exhibition would have been even better if there had been more work on display by some of the other artists such as Jane Graverol and Rachel Baes.

In the final room of the exhibition an Epilogue panel summed up the contribution of surrealism to Belgian culture: ‘With its subversion of language and image, with its sense of humour, Surrealism remains to this day an important source of inspiration for many artists in this country. It grew beyond an art historical movement into a fundamental characteristic of Belgian culture.’

When I emerged from the Palais des Beaux Arts after the exhibition it was still a dull, grey, overcast Sunday morning. I went for a wander along Rue Royale and down some of its side streets. There weren’t many people around. It was like walking through Kris Kristofferson’s song Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down.

For lunch I had chicken and chips at the Hector Chicken rotisserie at Porte de Namur. This set me up for the afternoon cinema visit, a showing of the 1951 Swedish film, ‘One Summer of Happiness’, directed by Arne Mattsson.

Cinematek is Belgium’s equivalent of the British Film Institute and like the BFI it shows a range of wonderful films that rarely get seen on the big screen. It is located just round the corner from Palais des Beaux Arts where I saw the Histoire de ne pas rire exhibition earlier today.

Before the showing in the Ledoux auditorium there was a very interesting and informative introduction to the film but the person who gave it didn’t introduce herself so I’ve no idea who she was. She mentioned that director Arne Mattsson was a contemporary of Ingmar Bergman but Mattsson didn’t receive anything like the critical acclaim of Bergman, hence Mattsson’s unpublished autobiography is apparently titled In The Shadow of a Bastard, which drew a chuckle from the audience.

Mattsson may not be revered like Bergman but ‘One Summer of Happiness’ is a magnificent film.

Portentous, ominous music overlays the opening scene of a solitary figure walking through the countryside.

The film features several low angle shots, looking up at the characters and giving them and their story an epic quality.

Plenty of dry humour is scattered throughout the film.

There are great performances from the two leads (Folke Sundquist as Göran and Ulla Jacobsson as Kerstin). But for me the outstanding performance was from Edvin Adolphson as Anders, the uncle, who provides a powerful humanist rebuttal of the stonehearted cleric’s judgemental diatribe during the funeral scene at the end of the film.

Outside Cinemathek when ‘One Summer of Happiness’ finished the rain had started and the wet pavements up on Rue Royale were reflecting the street lights as trams trundled by in the drizzly dusk.

Related Post: ‘Disputed Passage’, Cinemathek Brussels

The post ‘One Summer of Happiness’, Cinemathek, Brussels appeared first on Silver Screen Cities: Celebrating city cinema-going.

It’s good to be back in Brussels. Such a great city for cinema, art, and beer.

Skipping breakfast, I headed out this Saturday morning to see the James Ensor – Inspired by Brussels exhibition at the 18^th century Palace of Charles of Lorraine. The palace is a fabulous opulent setting which would have been worth the price of entry just to marvel at the lavish interiors even if there hadn’t been an art exhibition also going on.

I got to the venue just after the exhibition opening time of 10am in order to avoid crowds later in the day. There were only a few other visitors this early and I had most of the splendid rooms in the palace to myself as I viewed this superb exhibition of James Ensor, one of Belgium’s greatest artists.

The paintings which stood out for me were ‘The Lamplighter’ (1880), with its simple but striking composition and subdued palette; the rich, dark colours and wonderful atmosphere of ‘Interior at the Rousseaus’ (1884); and the hilarious surrealism of ‘Skeletons Fighting over a Pickled Herring’ (1891), a small panel painting which almost made me laugh out loud. Great stuff.

After seeing the exhibition I walked down the hill, past Grand Place and on to the Galerie du Centre on Rue des Fripiers, within which Cinéma Aventure is located. Galerie du Centre is a very low key arcade, a welcome refuge from the tourist-thronged streets nearby.

Aventure is one of my favourite Brussels cinemas. It’s got a cosy intimate feel and eclectic programming which means there’s always something interesting to watch here.

Today’s film was ‘Joan Baez: I Am a Noise’. It was showing in Screen 2, which was accessible along a very dark corridor. In the auditorium, warm brown wooden rafters curve up above the screen.

There were around a dozen people in the audience for what turned out to be a captivating and intimate documentary film about Joan Baez as she travelled on her farewell tour and reflected on her life.

There is nothing nostalgic or complacent about this film – it celebrates Joan Baez’s career and there is plenty concert footage where we hear her amazingly beautiful voice, but the film also includes her talking about some disturbing memories of her family life when she was growing up. The film covers her participation in the civil rights movement, protests against the Vietnam war, and her brief but intense relationship with a young, fresh-faced Bob Dylan.

After ‘Joan Baez: I Am a Noise’ finished, this being Brussels, I had to have some great beer – Watou Tripel and Waterloo Triple Blond. Can’t beat a good Belgian triple.

Related Post: ‘Greetings from Tim Buckley’, Café 16cc Amsterdam

The post ‘Joan Baez: I Am a Noise’, Cinéma Aventure, Brussels appeared first on Silver Screen Cities: Celebrating city cinema-going.

Just spent a couple of days in Brighton on a rare foray to the south coast of England. It was unusually cold for mid-April and a thick haar hung in the air when I arrived. There was a whiff of faded grandeur about the seafront buildings though the streets were vibrant when the sun finally emerged and the city started to feel as bohemian as its reputation.

On the train back from Brighton to London, I put on my headphones and spent the one-hour journey buoyed in the dreamy cocoon of Kacey Musgraves’ new album, ‘Deeper Well’.

In London, The Garden Cinema was showing the Japanese film ‘Evil Does Not Exist’. I’d been to this cinema once before and marvelled at its amazing art deco design. The film was on in Screen 2, a small intimate auditorium with comfortable seats and wonderfully stylish art deco wall lights.

Written and directed by Ryusuke Hamaguchi, ‘Evil Does Not Exist’ starts very slow – I was wondering if the log cutting scene was ever going to end – but soon becomes enthralling.

There are echoes of Bill Forsyth’s 1983 film ‘Local Hero’ as a rural community is faced with the prospect of a development that is going to bring money and jobs to the region but at the cost of damaging the environment.

The wintry landscape is beautifully filmed.

Strange electronic music fuses in a surprising interplay with nature in one scene where Hana (Ryo Nishikawa), the young daughter of local man Takumi (Hitoshi Omika), tramps alone through a snowy forest.

The film gets more and more hypnotic and engaging as it goes along, though it was pretty clear when the lights came on at the end of the film that everyone in the audience, myself included, was baffled by the final ten minutes or so.

On emerging from The Garden Cinema after the film ended, we continued the afternoon’s Japanese theme by walking to nearby Covent Garden to drop in to Moto saké bar where I sampled a couple of excellent sakés before deciding to buy a bottle of the one that was from Gunma Prefecture.

I’ve had plenty sakés from neighbouring Niigata Prefecture but this is the first I’ve had from Gunma.

Looking forward to quaffing it when I get back home to Dundee.

Related Posts: ‘Ryuichi Sakamoto: Coda’, Dundee Contemporary Arts (DCA) and ‘Wilding’, Dundee Contemporary Arts (DCA)

The post ‘Evil Does Not Exist’, The Garden Cinema London appeared first on Silver Screen Cities: Celebrating city cinema-going.