Cambridge Arts Picturehouse and Why I’ve Stopped Supporting Cambridge Film Festival

I’m writing this at the time of the 2022 festival. Last year’s was my last, despite my annual support from 2008, despite that I’ve been on a scarily low income and didn’t live in the county. Hence I had made a special effort to attend the East of England’s largest fim festival, which is based at this ancient university city’s arts cinema. I would like to explain why after a little history of Cambridge’s Arts Picturehouse.

Initially, an arts cinema and theatre had been set up; the theatre remains although it’s not very arty and is as close as Cambridge gets to a theatre royal (the actual old theatre’s on Newmarket Road and is now a Buddhist centre). Cambridge had four old cinemas – the Playhouse on Mill Road, now unrecognisable as a Salvation Army shop; on Mitcham’s Corner out of the centre; on Sidney Street next to Waterstones which was a bingo hall for many years but working in the 1980s; and where I am about to take you. Originally part of a trust, it was enveloped by Picturehouses around the turn of the millennium.

I had been attending this cinema in the latter guise since 2002 – twenty years as I write this. I had seen its previous incarnation in Market Passage – I recall posters for my favourite film of all time, Elizabeth, in the late 1990s. That building became B Bar, and the arts cinema moved into a former cinema on St Andrews, where it remains.

Oddly, the cinema part was given over to the dreaded Wetherspoons pub chain which had a rough reputation, hence late night films could feel offputting for staff and patrons alike – I knew both. The latter have to go up to the cinema via a pair of stairs, so there’s no front of house or welcome, which is a mistake…just brochures – when Picturehouses did them.

The box office area has no windows, nor features, and the snacks are prominent. If you’re a member, your name flashes upon a screen that those queuing behind can see. Up more steps and you’re in the bar – the best part and the area which retains the 1930s genesis of the building. There were leaflets and a community noticeboard, but these were gradually reneged. I tried to put up a poster about my own cinema based local story, Parallel Spirals, with little interest. There is a film discussion group called Bums of Seats who put their flyer up.

Arts Picturehouse Cambridge cafe

The bar is quite spacious with windows along one side overlooking the street and Emmanuel college. It used to have pages of film script for wallpaper, next to strong red paint. The snack menu was given film and local names, all based on crepes. So it was affordable and pleasantly filling and I often came here whether I was seeing a film or not. People sit here with open laptops and books for hours.

Then the crepes moved out and the bar-ish menu was less appealing; chrome replaced some of the decor.

Never a cheap cinema, nor a cheap city, there sometimes feels a snootiness here, although the programming was slightly artier than Norwich, their sister: Superman got a big birthday outing, and they had some interesting back of brochure strands.

And the festival, which is very much a movable feast… I’ve attended in August to November.

This is the chief venue although the local Cineworld at Cambridge Lesuire complex – briefly a sister until forced to sell to The Light by the Competition Market Authority – and some colleges and even a church on Mill Road join in. But the best atmosphere is here in this three screener. More casual than London’s festival and easier to get tickets for, even on the day, I liked my autumn-ish sojourn, and had even written reviews for them a couple of times, although it was clear that I was limited in what I could say and wasn’t getting to see films which would have chosen.

A few times, I had written in with feedback – something they ask for, although the questionnaires are more about data harvesting than really being able to give an opinion on how you found things, such as the bowling alley feel of the foyer to the screens, which are up at least 2 more storeys than the bar, and there is nowhere to stand as it’s all on a slope. At busy times, it’s awkward; and when I did sit in the one chair due to a physical issue, I was kicked by a member of staff, who ironically was wearing a sling. No apology or recognition was given for this.

I have also complained about photography before – which is why I stopped giving my patronage to Glasgow. CFF didn’t seem to understand the legal and moral issues of being opted into public image showing, just for attending, and because they can’t be bothered to ask you.

I’ve had several poor experiences with staff experiences at the box office, some of which didn’t know their job; but then a reply from CFF let slip that all the staff had been let go during covid, so these are all very new. I wasn’t impressed as PH have been in the news before about abusing their staff, and I boycotted them for a few months in protest.

What I minded most was the tone of the replies, especially from one Owen Baker, who had only written back to me one year but clearly had been perusing my feedback for several. Companies spend huge amounts on gaining feedback, which I had given them for free, in a clear way. This included the times that staff had been rude or misleading about prices – such as the advertising issue where CFF wrote an email headed “£3 tickets for all” but then in small print after some scrolling said that it was weekday mornings only. There is actually a legal issue – for the subject line is a contract offer. It would have been easy to have added “each morning M-F” to that subject. Hence I went, the year I was battling eviction, because it was cheap and I had encouraged a friend to do likewise. I was therefore faced with either a wasted journey and not seeing any films, or to pay 3x more (if I wasn’t a member it would have been x4) to see anything. I wrote to CFF who refused any kind of refund, even a goodwill gesture. Thus I didn’t use their bar at all, which they often close during the festival for events of delegates – even though there are other spaces for them, and not us!

Owen actually told me not to come again – although I’d be missed, he advised me to take my support elsewhere. Everything about his email was unprofessional (as well as sarcastic). One email started “Well, let’s see, I try to be [polite to those who complain]…” He clearly has no idea how to speak to customers, and his boss didn’t bother to write back either.

Hence I am saving £40, 50 and above pounds on even a day at Cambridge Film Festival, and I feel sour not only about my 13 years of festivalling there (save 2020 when there wasn’t one) but all the other years I’ve met friends and watched films at the Arts. It actually makes me feel differently about Cambridge, a town I’ve mixed views on anyway.

One would think with almost three years of closure and low custom, you’d be keen to treat loyal patrons well, but these responses are rather revealing of the trust’s real values.

Happily, I not only found another film festival to attend in another area, but I’ve just had a very pleasant experience at another Picturehouse – my special favourite. I’ve already linked to it in this article. Its name rhymes with porridge.

Shrewsbury Old Market Hall

A town with so many assets is notably lacking in one: the arts. Shrewsbury may not have had a theatre when I first visited – or was the Music Hall still used for performances then? – and it had no central cinema. The one it did have closed in 1998, and I have since dined in it – and I pause to say how lovely the staff at Pizza Express were. They’ve kept a cinematic theme in their posters and signage, and you can enjoy a large round ceiling feature. Outside is suitably Shrewsbury-ish – in the traditional black and white. It was built as The Empire in 1922, and ended its film showing life (after other changes) as the ABC.

Former cinema on Mardol

In Shoplatch is a turn of the last century building that has been known as the Theatre Royal, or County Theatre, but has also served as a picturehouse until the end of the last war. It is now apartments. The former Granada on Castle Gate has been a bingo hall since the 1970s and retains a spectacular 1930s interior. There are, or were, at least two other cinemas in Shrewsbury.

Shrewsbury’s current theatre was born to celebrate the birth of the son it promotes most – Darwin, who was brought up nearby the site in Frankwell. Frankwell doesn’t sit well – it is often flooded by the adjacent Severn after which the theatre is named, and I understand that it may be in danger of that despite its special walls. They sacrificed one of the town’s few historic chapels and made it part of a bar. The rest is quite nondescript, with two auditoria and some quite good views from the foyers. It seems mostly a receiving house – it does not make it own productions.

It is sister to where I’d like to take you – their logos both appear on tickets.

The multiplex is out of town to the south east; I had no inclination to find the 8 screen Cineworld which opened the year in which the Mardol cinema closed.

I had plenty of inclination to find the place I’m about to tell you about.

I’d firstly like to say that there is one other interesting venue for live arts and for film in Shrewsbury. It was hard to discover – more so than the amateur dramatics that sometimes take place on the English Bridge. The Hive is in the heart of the loop of that river, next to old St Chad’s, in a Georgian area. I didn’t go in, so I can only tell you how it seems, since I was put off by having to ring a bell for entry and by the signs asking me to wear masks – long after such ‘advice’ had been dropped. The Hive, with its orange sign and hard to get hold of elsewhere brochure, runs a kind of bi weekly film society night, mostly with foreign language films.

So, to the rather quirky and exciting cinema which is approaching its 18^th birthday. In the Square is an Elizabethan beige stone building on legs, known as Old Market Hall. It is now the council run cinema with a cafe. Annoyingly, it goes by its initials, OMH (yes I sometimes put BTS but that’s just written shorthand for my church community,).

The ground area covered by the first floor hall seems quite empty; a few tables from upstairs’ cafe, but by night I felt less comfortable hovering. There’s a lift and stairs, recalling Bristol’s Watershed, taking you to the attractions above. There’s a few leaflets, but when I last visited, none of their own, and they didn’t even display what was on when in the building. So busy was I seeking this – or the prices, £10 I think at present – that I missed that they are a card only venue, which is also off-putting.

I believe in cash for it is immediate, anonymous, and I know that the pandemic has been an excuse to switch us to digital, where we can be tracked and money removed remotely.

They have only one film at at time for a week (with the addition of a parent/baby morning screening and perhaps a filmed live event as a one off) shown thrice a day – a matinee, early evening and mid evening showing. On Sunday, this is different: there seems to be no Sunday evening showings, just one at noon and mid afternoon. The whole building seems to shut by tea, and you can’t get any here after three.

Despite a recent brochure saying that this bar is open til late, the only constructive sign on the building I saw said that the bar shuts at 9pm. It’s also limited, one presumes, by the space in this historic building. It was imaginative to get a cinema and bar in there. We were told that sandwiches are brought in and no variations are permitted – so if you don’t want coleslaw you are stuck – eat it or don’t have. I didn’t have. There is no warm food here.

Despite the importance of this building, it’s more simple inside than I expected: no plastered ceiling or features, just an open room with a fairly crude timbered pitched roof; there are more trusses in the cinema end. It’s divided into two fairly equally, with a tiny loo between and hardly any foyer space. Yet, even with only 9 rows and 81 seats, there’s a couple of seats for couples.

As I dislike elsewhere, the bar and the box office are the same.

OMH bills itself as art house but it is only just thus: yes I’ve seen foreign language films listed but it often focusses on the so called quality end obvious of new film releases.

The programming was no better than a much smaller town, who also has a single screen and venue, but being a sliver of the size of Shrewsbury, it was impressive there but not here.

I’ll be taking you to Ludlow next.

Ludlow Assembly Rooms

 

Ludlow’s arts keeps up curiously with its big sister. It too has one central cinema, upstairs in the square, in a building which includes a covered market. This one is Hanoverian, very much in classical style, which is keeping with the general character of the town. It has pilasters and a niche and a triangular pediment – not features often discussed when describing a cinema.

It appears to be Georgian but was actually built in 1840 – at the start of Victoria’s reign.

Like other 18^th and 19^th century buildings in Ludlow, it is plastered and painted, but no longer in interesting pastel shades, picking out the pilasters and rusticated bottom. Today it is pale grey all over.

For some years, the venue has also been the tourist information centre, happily retained when so many others were closed. It is now shared with the box office – which aren’t always open at the same time. which can make for some odd interactions between staff.

On the ground floor is a cafe, entered via a matching glazed arch to the above.

An expensive (double what was originally quoted) two year transformation ended in 2021, whence the lost arch reappeared. Restoring the entrance on Castle Square was a long term goal of the venue, which had previously been entered from Mill Street.

It’s not just the external colour scheme that worsened since this covid-time revamp.

The auditorium doesn’t seem to be that of the place of dances and card playing it was built to be. Now painted a dark blue-ish grey, the ceiling’s features are lost in rigging, and even with the house lights up (they seem to keep the room quite dark, even either side of a performance) I couldn’t see the curvature of the ceiling or the roses on it.

The gallery is gone – I liked that quirk (as found at Bath, which this building recalls); now the blue, still theatre-ish seats, are more steeply raked towards the projectionist window. The columns and art deco decoration have been lost, but seem to have been compromised in a previous alteration.

The tall sash windows are understandably shuttered over during a performance – still with suitably genteel panelling, also found in the doors – but the walls are covered with something modern with regular vertical brown wooden slats.

Previously, the walls have been red, or bright blue with details outlined in red, and matching seats.

There’s an aisle across and along now, dividing the front row of seats off, which are rather too close to the screen and stage.

The space between the assembly room and what is now heralded as the farmer’s market is glazed in; I am not sure this is needed or enhancing. It tries to say: we’re trendy here, whatever you might assume about this town!

I wonder about a price increase – it certainly occurred in Norwich’s Cinema City after it too had an extended over budget refurb. Now it’s £10 for both matinee and evening films, but without an outstanding experience (the seats and auditorium are quite ordinary and old style). I couldn’t actually tell that the venue was recently done up by visiting – I discovered only by researching for this.

Bill’s Kitchen of Hereford now fills the space between the entrance and Mill Street. The bar stated that it is open until 8pm – which suited my plans – but then another sign, on the same doors, contradicted. It is only open until 4 – this was a summer visit, close to a town event. I didn’t get a great vibe as I had to make my way to a cafeteria counter at the back, with signs which didn’t endear me. Was I made to pay with a card? (The website doesn’t warn of that.). Usually I decline such venues, but I wanted to try it for this blog. I sat down with my numbered spoon, only to be informed that the pizza oven – the only thing I fancied on the menu (and not that which I could see on the counter) – was broken. Hence I got a refund and went elsewhere – and after seeing a matinee, I was unable to try them later as they were shut.

There seems to be lots of bits to the building: entrances; corridors; the stairs up to the main hall…. kind of secret but due to the darkness, a bit discomforting. Checking out the rooms for hire, I can see there are several spaces for the various classes offered here, but none appealed.

The farmer’s market bit was built as a museum; upstairs is a space called Oscars’ but has an Aertex ceiling and apparently no windows, being behind that empty recess.

I did find the programming on this visit, as well as previously, to be up to that of larger towns’ venues. I specifically looked at film, although Ludlow Assembly Rooms is an all-round arts centre.

It has foreign language films and is generally arty, although hearing box office staff be rude about the film currently showing didn’t feel very professional or helpful, since it was poorly attended.

They seem to get several films in during their 6 day week (they’re closed on Sundays), and had this recent French release before Shrewsbury’s Old Market Hall.

The matinee is rather early, especially in an early closing town: rather than 2pm, I’d suggest that 430 allows us to finish shopping, supping, visiting, or even a day’s work, and them to still have ample time to clean the room before the evening’s 730 showing.

I approved of the adverts (but not the trailers) being shown before the advertised time, which is the start of the film. However, I wonder if all visitors are prepared for that – especially those who calculate coming in late to miss the adverts. The dribbles of people as you’re settled, asking you to rise when the room’s already dark, is not conducive to a pleasant experience. I’d get annoyed with that in busy screenings. At least they say that latecomers will be shown to suitable seats at a suitable moment, and I didn’t have to pick a seat when booking.

I had meant to praise this place, but found that the local rags telling me how popular and successful it is – and will be even more now – actually made me feel the opposite. The refurb recalls the original building, paid for publicly and expensively. I am glad that it has long served the people of Ludlow and around; and that its transformation into the current arts centre in 1993 filled a shocking gap as other venues were closed, even demolished, in the 1980s. The Public Rooms (as it was first known), not quite ready for its bicentenary, has shown films for half that time, although not continuously; it has also been a night club. (I’m reading between the lines about that being taken over by the council to make this).

Comments on today’s incarnation include an amusing statement on its new ecofriendly capabilities but the photo of the masked manager posing in a room which I cannot call ‘state of the art’ didn’t convince me that the money had been spent well.

The last offputting thing is that staff are volunteers. After that augmented and vast public backing, LAR still aren’t able (or willing) to pay all who work for them, and that has left me feeling disappointed about a place that I was excited to visit and support.