Rooftop Film Club – See You Next Year

Callum Crumlish bids a fond adieu to one of the highlights of his summer.

As the weather outside turns frightful, I can’t help feeling wistful about those balmy days of summer.

Either it’s a new trend or I was the only one not to know before, but I will look back at Summer 2015 as the first season of ‘secret’ pop-ups: bars, shops, events – all with their own little quirks.

For me the Godfather of them all was the Rooftop Film Club (RFC), previously showing in Los Angeles and New York, and only just now coming to the end of its debut season in London.

All summer long RFC screens were dotted across London (Shoreditch, Stratford, Peckham, Kensington), offering regular showings of classic movies such as Donnie Darko, Top Gun, Dirty Dancing, and American Psycho. But The Breakfast Club was the one I simply couldn’t resist. Coupled with views of the London skyline, I decided it would be the perfect first date.

Situated precariously on the top floor of the seemingly forgotten Stratford Shopping Centre’s multi-storey car park, the cinema screen—dubbed ‘Roof East’—overlooked astro turf which had been laid out across the concrete floor, with beach chairs directed towards the screen, and a two-foot tall picket fence surrounding the entire ‘viewing area’.

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After flashing our tickets at an usher and riding the elevator to the top floor, we were greeted with a makeshift cocktail bar—essentially, a six-foot table in a newly assembled wooden shed—wherein I attempted to buy my date and myself a drink.

‘Do you take contactless?, I asked. ‘We’re on a car park, mate, the bartender replied. Feeling a bit of a twit, I passed the bill to my companion, picked up our cocktails—aptly named ‘Pink Ladies’ —and tried to look nonchalant as we moved over to the viewing area.

Although The Breakfast Club was barely audible—due to wrestling with the finicky wireless headphones that were handed out in place of a sound system, and although the first half of the film was barely visible—due to the sun setting directly behind our seats (and after it had gone down, the temperature dropped so quickly the usher had to hand out blankets to quell the sound of chattering teeth) – for all that, the RFC was a joyous experience.

Sure, people (myself included) laughed at jokes they knew were coming, embedded in a film that they had probably seen hundreds of times at various points in their lives; nonetheless, it was a sincere, inclusive experience. Instead of a gathering of hipsters quoting the classic lines so loudly that you can’t hear them—which I presumed would happen—it felt more like a celebration of the art of film making.

You may have to wait until Spring 2016, but I strongly recommend the new social convention of watching a film whilst picking popcorn out of your teeth, slightly drunk on overpriced cocktails, open to the elements and surrounded by strangers in uncomfortable conditions. Isn’t that what going to the movies is all about nowadays?

In the meantime, the RFC is now selling tickets for London’s Winter Underground Film Club, situated in The Vaults at Waterloo and showing dark and dingy movies such as Friday the 13th and Mad Max: Fury Road. So at least we won’t be completely starved of ‘secret’ film clubs.

(And was my first taste magical enough to prompt a second date? Mind your own your business.)

 

 

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