If there’s one thing that Cat and I love, it’s movies. They are the one thing we will not save cash on while we are here. I guess it’s the equivalent of comfort food. If you’ve had a miserable day, it doesn’t matter where you are in the world, a cinema is the same everywhere - a reassuring dark room, the smell of spilt popcorn and Coke, and and the occasional wanker who won’t shut up.
Melbourne has many cinemas, but one stood out as soon as we read about it. The Astor is in St Kilda, a popular area for backpackers and a vibrant and popular suburb. Our first attempt to find it is marred only by us inadvertently getting on the highway back to Sydney, but a quick right turn, and 20 minutes later we’re there. The Astor is an art deco cinema, retaining much of its original décor, housing a proper 70mm projector, and able to hold about 1500 people. From the outside it is a relatively small building- inside it is a monster. It changes its programme regularly, and seems to have planned its screenings for months in advance. And the programme is just glorious – classic westerns, schlock horror, and the complete absence of any film with the words ‘Sith’, ‘Harry’ or ‘Transformers’ in it.
The night we do go, we decide to take the train – there’s a station 5 minutes walk away, so we can’t get lost. Our timing is out for one great double feature (‘Night of the Living Dead’ and ‘Evil Dead’ – we should bow down and worship the guy who runs this place) but we manage to turn up for another unique event – the Tarantino/Rodriguez bomb ‘Grindhouse’ is showing for one week only. For those not in the know, this double bill of deliberately bad films was shown in American cinemas for about a week, and it bombed, after which it was cut into two separate films, both equally ignored by cinemagoers across the rest of the globe. As it’s in its original format here, it includes all the fake adverts and trailers that preceded each film (which were cut out by the time it arrived in the UK). Yeah, most of you don’t care. To Cat and I, this is film heaven.
The Astor has no booking system, so we arrive early (not realising just how many people can fit in this place), and wait outside for the box office to open, something I haven’t done since Return of the Jedi first hit cinemas, which creates a warm, nostalgic glow in my brain. There are also no seating charts to worry about – you get your ticket, you find a seat, and you sit down. Good stuff, especially if you’ve had to fight with the idiots of Reading over seating in the past. So we buy our tickets, race off to have a quick burger, then rush back to get in line.
The place is beautiful inside, all lush carpeting, with leather sofas in the lobby. The cinema itself is just as impressive, with all the décor restored, the biggest screen you could possibly want, and 1500 comfy seats. The place is surprisingly full for a Wednesday, and we’re on the upper balcony with the bulk of the crowd. Everyone has come expecting a really stupid time, and we are not disappointed. The first film, ‘Planet Terror’, about a gas which turns people into a zombie army, is as dumb as it sounds, terribly acted, gory as hell, and for the most part, hysterical fun. After a 10 minute intermission, we get the fake trailers for various terrible films (‘Werewolf Women of the SS’ springs to mind), which have the crowd going nuts. The second film, ‘Deathproof’ is a real let-down. It has its moments, but makes the mistake of actually being crap, rather than fake crap. This doesn’t stop the audience from having a whale of a time; everyone gets carried away and it’s only when the final credits roll that we realise we’re going to miss the last train home if we don’t hustle.
If you’re going to Melbourne at any point, for God’s sake go to the Astor. The idea of a cinema this good closing down through lack of support is enough to make a grown man cry. It’s worth crossing continents to see movies in this place. When you die, if you’ve been a good boy or girl, this is where you spend eternity, watching spaghetti westerns, Asian action flicks, and the complete works of Bruce Campbell.
