The Electric Cinema Club 1970s

Cinema lovers gather for a screening.

The Electric Cinema Club first formed under cover of night, using the Imperial for late night alternative shows on Friday and Saturday nights, commencing with Luis Bunuel’s The Criminal Life of Archibaldo De La Cruz. So popular were these midnight showings, taking more than a whole week’s admissions, they expanded to take over the cinema. In 1970, the Club took over the whole premises, refurbishing the building to the tune of £50,000 and creating one of the finest repertory cinemas in the world. Curiously, when they replaced the screen, the were delighted to discover the original 1911 screen, painted on the wall.

In 1970 the Club took over the Electric premises... creating one of the finest repertory cinemas in the world.

It was a heyday fondly recalled by both staff and patrons alike. A place where cinema lovers gathered to watch and talk film, soon to become known as London’s friendliest cinema. Intimacy was the keyword, as the staff got to know their regulars for good and bad. Geoff Andrew, who worked at the Electric throughout the 70s, hilariously recalls the nicknames given to the more eccentric of their customers. Usually with the prefix Charlie, they included Charlie Dirty Hands (who wore gloves), Charlie Greasy Hair, Charlie Big Gut, Charlie Actor and Charlie Trousers (no one can recall what was significant about his trousers). Charlie Pork Pie (down to his hat) would come in every day for years, cut to the front of any queue, and fall sounds asleep in whatever film he’d paid for. He turned out to be stone deaf.

These were the easygoing ones. Blonde Johnny was also a sleeper, often in the aisles, but if awoken would begin a barrage of swearing and offers of violence toward the staff. He even threatened to burn down the cinema. Catching him at the box office became a necessity.

The Electric exterior, mid–70s.

Sudden downpours would also be a bane of the staff’s life, with the cinema’s notorious plumbing creating treacherous floods of sewage in the basement, and the fire brigade arriving in the nick of time before the Electric’s electrics were blown.

David Puttnam hailed the Electric “A Temple of Cinema”.

Above yet, it was, as David Puttnam hailed it, “A Temple of Cinema”. It was here the full breadth of cinema was shown (although a silent season nearly bankrupted them), and any talking would be met with a violent shush! A chance to see extraordinary double bills: Battle Of Algiers with Duck Soup, Hitchcock’s Psycho with John Huston’s Freud. They were the first to show The Texas Chain Saw Massacre uncut. They sought, without pretension, to educate people in film history.

Portraits

Georges ran the final film which the Electric Cinema Club showed, the glorious 35mm Technicolor print of Michael Powell's The Red Shoes, at the closing party. Powell was one of the directors championed by the ECC and who himself was a fan of the Electric.

"When I started work as a projectionist the equipment was very basic and outdated. We were still using very ancient 35mm projectors which it was said, had previously belonged to Winston Churchill. Many of the prints we showed were in rough condition and there was often considerable doubt as to whether the projectors would be able to run them without tearing the film. In addition we used carbon arc lights and the motors which moved the carbon rods were always failing so that they had to be adjusted manually to prevent the light going either too red or too blue or sometimes going out altogether. The films we showed were in different screen aspect ratios, 1.33 for pre-1950's films, 1.85 for widescreen or 1.66 for European widescreen and of course Cinemascope. Often there would be a debate about which was the correct ratio. To change the screen involved leaving the projection room via the fire escape and running down the narrow passage along the side of the building. At the end there were a series of nails hammered into the brick wall with the name of a particular screen ratio next to each one. A wire which came through a hole by the fire exit door was attached to the screen masking inside. The wire had a series of loops knotted along it and the correct permutation of loop on nail would produce one of the various screen ratios. You couldn't have Cinemascope as the second half of a double bill, because this involved bringing the top masking down and it never came down straight on the first attempt. It was a process of trial and error that needed to be done before the audience came in. Eventually we got new projectors and a screen that was operated by pushing a button from the projection booth."

"We were all avid cinephiles and we managed to locate a private collector who had 16mm copies of Hitchcock's Rear Window and Vertigo. These films had been out of circulation for a generation so there was intense anticipation at the prospect of putting them on at the Electric. They were like the Holy Grail for us. We couldn't advertise them by name in the programme because of copyright restrictions so they were simply listed as Rare Hitchcock Thriller 1 and 2. Word of mouth meant that the house was full for a midweek evening screening. The atmosphere in the audience was the most tense and concentrated I've ever experienced in a cinema. To see Rear Window particularly, which is, among other things a film about the experience of watching film, in those conditions really stands out out to me as being what the Electric was all about."

Patrons

Explore the History of the Electric

• 01Introduction
• 02Birth of a Legend
• 03The Electric At War

• 04Notting Hill In Flux
• 05The Electric Cinema Club
• 06Rebranding and Closure

• 07Ups and Downs
• 08London’s Classiest Cinema
• 09Archive