Rural Cinema, Go Home

Cinema can bring together communities and define culture; the concept at its heart has done so for millennia. When Greeks gathered in the darkness to look at the night sky and map constellations, they did so through storytelling and illusion, transporting themselves to far away places.  

I find comparisons to reference points in film a shorthand for conveying a quick understanding of a situation. Technology is held against a benchmark of the transport in Back to the Future 2; of late, Hal from 2001 A Space Odyssey pretty much sums up how I feel about the development of the internet; and who doesn’t want to shout ‘there can be only one!’ in a Scottish/Spanish accent every time they go through Glencoe?  But for many people, these references don’t resonate as deeply. 

Finding touchpoints across generations can be challenging, but my partner and I are from the same generation. I’ve often asked myself why she doesn’t understand any of these references. The answer is it’s mostly down to geography.

I grew up just outside Glasgow; my hometown had a cinema, and a bus trip to the city opened many more screens. I knew cinema as an emotional rollercoaster from a very early age – from the excitement of Star Wars to the young nihilistic confusion of Watership Down.  

Then, a rainy school day in 1982 changed how I viewed cinema forever. Realising the cultural phenomenon that was E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, and conscious of financial restrictions on some parents, our Chaplain took the whole school into the Assembly Room and let us watch what must have been a pirate copy of the film. For me, the message was clear: Cinema should be shared by all; film has important cultural significance. 

Around the same time, and some sixty miles north in the Scottish Highlands, my partner had little real access to cinema. There was no Screen Machine, community screenings were limited, and transport proved a huge barrier to theatres in Fort William or Oban. Yet her first memory of a communal film experience was when a local factory invited workers and locals alike to a screening of Spielberg’s temporal BMXing visitor classic, E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial. 

Despite reminiscing about the halcyon days of communal film viewing, I’m not endorsing piracy. Not only were these nearly unwatchable, but they also contributed to the closure of significant local institutions. Oban Phoenix, being one, particularly close to my heart – a cinema so family-focused they once let my son press the projectionist button to start the film, igniting a passion for him, very close to my own.  

Rural areas need community cinema as much now as ever. I would argue that in these times, we all need the communion of shared emotion that cinema can deliver more than ever.  

The initiative to take relevant films on a tour of rural and urban areas is one that’s significant not just because of the potential economic benefits to future tourism but in the hope that it can ignite the dreams of viewers to go out and make a difference and to tell their amazing story, which may go on to inspire others.      

Readers notes

• E.T. is a film about an arguably messianic BMXing alien trying to go home.

• 2001 A Space Odyssey is a film where an AI evolves to be passive-aggressive.

• Back to the Future 2 is a film which promised hover-skateboards by 2015.

• ‘There can be only one’ is a line from the 80s classic The Highlander, which my partner doesn’t get, despite being an extra in the film!

• Star Wars is a remake of some Kurosawa films, only set in space.

• Watership Down is a cartoon that looks and, thanks to Art Garfunkel, sounds sweet, but is mostly about rabbits dying.