A Tale of Two Cinemas

Katy Sharp-Watson commutes between rich and poor picture houses in the borough of Hackney.

The London Borough of Hackney has gone upmarket in recent years. House prices have soared and in turn, many local businesses have changed hands and upgraded. Similarly, some cultural offerings such as bars, cafes, restaurants and cinemas have become unaffordable for long-term residents who continue to live in the borough on low incomes. But look closer, and you will see that many of the old establishments are still clinging on, refusing to adapt to the new version of Hackney.

The contrast between old and new Hackney is exemplified in the disparity between two local cinemas just one mile apart: the (old) Rio Cinema in Dalston, and the (new) Electric Cinema in Shoreditch. Both are independent (not part of a cinema chain), yet the differences between them could not be greater.

The two cinemas have been showing the same film recently (Whiplash), so I went to each venue in turn to see how the seat I was sitting in affected my viewing of one and the same film.

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Nestled behind the Rich Mix arts centre lies the discrete, plush Electric, sister cinema of the 100-year-old Portobello Electric in Notting Hill. It offers a high-end, boutique experience in an intimate 50-seat setting. Parts of the premises were formerly known as the Aubin – the flagship store of the designer clothing brand, Aubin and Wills. Then the exclusive members’ club Soho House took over the neighbouring building on Bethnal Green Road and created Shoreditch House, and, subsequently – as part of the same complex, the Electric.

Arriving at the Electric, it soon became clear that this is much more than a cinema. The foyer is called ‘Barber and Parlour’. And so it was: a barber’s in one corner, and coffee-and-alcohol counters taking up the rest of the floor. Staff are immaculately groomed. I purchase a £3 latte and sat amongst fashionably scruffy people (users of luxury cosmetic brand Cowshed?) with eyes glued to their MacBooks, feeling unfashionably scruffy and out of place. Quite how both grooming and films go together I’m not quite sure, but after all, this is Shoreditch House and it fits in neatly with their ‘EAT. DRINK. NAP’ slogan.

Heading down to the basement and you enter what appears to be a 1950s jazz club. The deep armchairs offer immeasurable comfort, lamps adorn every adjacent side table and there’s even a cashmere blanket (in case you get cold, I guess). There are two ticket prices on offer:£8 will get you an armchair seat – but at a sharp angle to the screen. For a full-on view of the screen you will be forking out a whopping £22.

After an half an hour’s worth of adverts, the film finally begins. The £8 angle-view seat in which I am sitting proves rather uncomfortable, since to see the screen I have to crane my neck to the right. But the digital projection and Dolby 7.1 surround sound are sublime. However, 20 minutes before the film is due to conclude, the screen shuts down and turns to black. The audience sits in bewilderment wondering if this is part of the film – but it soon becomes apparent that it’s not. Then the house lights come on – still no film. With no projectionist on hand to fix the problem, audience members are obliged to go and seek out staff. Quarter of an hour later, an usher comes out front to tell us there has been a power cut and they are working on it. Another 15 minutes and the film is finally back up and running, and I can just about remember where we were in the storyline.

Despite this technical catastrophe and my aching neck, the Electric was a decent experience overall. For a regular cinemagoer like myself, it is a step too extravagant, but for a special treat the £22 seat would be unbeatable.

The Road To Rio

Less than half an hour’s walk away on Kingsland High Street lies a cinema steeped in history – the Rio. Built in 1909, and boasting 175 seats, it is amongst London’s oldest purpose built cinemas and is a Grade 2 listed building. It has changed hands and names numerous times over the years but has been named The Rio since 1976. An extension in the 1920s extended the cinema to seat over 500 people. Today, the cinema runs as a not-for-profit community space financed by Hackney Council and the Greater London Authority. The cinema underwent a refurbishment in 1995, adding air conditioning and surround sound, but retained its Art Deco interior.

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I arrive at the Rio at 1pm on a Friday afternoon to find the doors bolted and no one in sight. A hand-written sign on the door informs me that it will be opening at 1:15pm (only fifteen minutes before the film’s programmed start time). After a time-killing stroll, I come back to find the doors open and an empty box office. There appears to be just one member of staff at the cinema and he is standing behind the counter in the café. I purchase a ticket for £7.50 (no allocated seating) and a reasonably priced £2.20 latte, and enter the auditorium. The cinema is shabby and old but has a charming nostalgic feel to it. In many ways, entering the Rio feels like stepping back in time: the same cabaret music plays on repeat as I wait for the adverts to begin. The first advert is from Hackney Council on the importance of recycling, a stark contrast with the Electric’s advertss for sports cars and luxury alcohol. A couple of trailers later and the film promptly starts without an abundance of ads. I was most excited by the curtains closing and then opening again between the trailers and the film – not something I have seen in a cinema since childhood.

As the film begins, I realise I am the only person sat in this huge cinema – a very strange and quite scary feeling. The seats are not especially comfy, but as I’m on my own I can get away with stretching myself out. The air conditioning is turned up quite high so I keep my coat on (no cashmere blankets here). The picture quality is neither better nor worse than the Electric’s screen – not as far as I can tell, anyway. The sound however is incredibly loud: it echoes and bounces off the walls of the huge room.

Despite its low daytime screening attendance, the Rio is surely a cinema that is beloved by the community, or else it would have died along with many of the other cinemas in Hackney. The old-fashioned style feels authentic and proper – how cinemas should be. There are no silly gimmicks or a hierarchy of seats. Its affirmative place in the cultural landscape of Hackney proves that there is still a cinema for everybody: the Rio’s website shows that it caters for many of the different communities in Hackney, offering Lesbian and Gay festival screenings, the Turkish and Kurdish film festivals, parent and baby matinees and films for the hard of hearing.

You won’t get much of that at the Electric!

Katy Sharp-Watson is Rising East‘s Film and TV Editor.

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