
I just finished reading ‘The Big Picture – Cinemas of Dundee’ by Jack Searle and Craig Muir, published by Dundee Civic Trust, with a Foreword by proud Dundonian, the acclaimed actor Brian Cox.
This book is a gem. It brings to life the whole cinema-going experience in Dundee from the earliest days of silent film through to today, focusing not only on the cinemas themselves but also on the people who ran them and the public who went to them.
It’s fascinating to find out just how many cinemas there used to be in this city, although there is a melancholy tinge to the fate of so many of these buildings, as their life cycle proceeds from cinema to bingo hall to dereliction to demolition.
Without reading this book, I would never have guessed there used to be a 900-seat cinema in Shepherd’s Loan or a similarly sized cinema on the site of what is now the University of Dundee library. In these ways, the book opens your eyes to the surprising past of a familiar environment.
The book also paints a vivid picture of what it was like to be a member of the audience in the city’s cinemas back in the days of silent film. Quotes like this make you wish you could have been there to experience it for yourself:
‘To enhance the experience, dialogue was often supplied by speakers standing behind the screen. Given that the speakers were always locals and spoke in the local dialect, this gave another dimension to the action, particularly when a scene was set in a Royal Court in Italy or in a temple in ancient Rome, and the dialogue was in broad Dundonian’.
The photographs that illustrate the book provide an interesting lesson in local history. Amongst the most striking is the photo showing the amazingly opulent interior of what used to be Green’s Playhouse (page 26).
But the book does not wallow in rose-tinted nostalgia; the un-wholesome state of some of Dundee’s old cinemas is mentioned, sometimes with wry humour as in the case of a cinema that was originally called the Stobswell Cinema Theatre, as recollected by someone who used to work there:
‘Only J.B. Milne had the brass neck to rename such a humble little fleapit The Ritz, a name with connotations of grandeur and luxury. Neither was in evidence in this cinema’.
The same person – Alex Braid – does, however, go on to praise the cinema for its character:
‘Like most cinemas from the golden era of film going, the Ritz had atmosphere and individuality, something lacking in the sterile and bland auditoria of the present day multiplexes’.
Fortunately, present-day Dundee has the DCA, a wonderful alternative to the sterile and bland auditoria referred to by Alex Braid, and that is where I headed on this warm July day.
I got to DCA an hour before the 6pm showing of ‘Prophecy’, an engrossing documentary about painter Peter Howson and his creation of the apocalyptic work that gives the film its title.
There was time for a pre-film bite to eat, tasty Thai fishcakes washed down with a bottle of local brew 71 Dundonian Pilsner and a bottle of IPA, before joining a decent turnout in Screen 2 for a showing that was thankfully devoid of trailers.
Howson is an intense and brooding presence.
Set in the artist’s Glasgow studio, ‘Prophecy’ captures the whole creative process, from the artist reflecting out loud as to what changes and additions the painting needs to close-up shots of Howson’s brushwork, the brushwork sometimes delicate and precise, at other times almost manic.
The soundtrack is perfectly synced to the brushwork, with intense classical music complementing the visceral art being produced by Howson.
Howson’s use of colour to render reflected light is extraordinarily effective and impressive.
One of the influences on his work that Howson cites is Cecil B DeMille’s 1927 silent film ‘The King of Kings’. I saw that amazing DeMille film a few years ago at Cinemateca Portuguesa in Lisbon and reviewed it in one of the chapters in the ‘Silver Screen Cities – Lisbon’ book. That chapter can be read as a blog post here.
The clip of ‘The King of Kings’ shown in ‘Prophecy’ is a truly terrifying scene of death and destruction and the silhouette of Judas’ body hanging from a tree branch. Chilling stuff.
The oil painting ‘Prophecy’ at the heart of this documentary has a shuddering power and intensity. It reminded me of Chinese artist Liu Yaming’s ‘Eye in the sky’ painting, a work even more monumental than Howson’s ‘Prophecy’ and equally bold and apocalyptic.
I had the honour and pleasure of visiting Liu Yaming’s studio outside Beijing last year. Having the opportunity to stand in front of some of his huge, epic paintings was a breathtaking experience, one not easily forgotten.
Related Post: ‘Mrs Lowry & Son’, Dundee Contemporary Arts (DCA)