Remembering The Scala

Published July 30, 2010 by tootingtrumpet

Nobody fortunate enough to be a student in London in the 80s should have missed out on The Scala experience. Having paid a couple of pounds or so and loaded up with organic carrot cake and a fruit juice, you would peer through the darkness to locate a seat in the auditorium and hope the House cat would let you settle before introducing itself. Without any further ado (especially without the insistent fanfare of Pearl and Dean with their ads for the local curry house), you would embark on a five hour Tarkovsky or Godard double bill squinting to read the off-white on white subtitles. What a joy, and we thought it would last forever…


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