Ballerina Ballroom, Nairn, 15-23 August 2008

Eckhart Dux as The Prince

AFTER a selection of Elvis standards (my wife knows all the words), our irrepressibly cheerful host welcomes us to ‘Day Seven and a Half’ at the Ballerina Ballroom of Dreams and leads the packed audience in singing improvised greetings to this, the second last day of this extraordinary festival.

Co-originators Tilda Swinton and Mark Cousins still look as if they are having the time of their lives, after a week in which, such has been the demand, almost every scheduled film has had to be shown twice or even three times.

Today is to be the ‘singing day’. In the evening, those lucky enough to have secured tickets will be enjoying a screening of ‘Singing in the Rain’ which promises, Mark confides, to be like no other. But meanwhile a motley assortment has gathered in eager anticipation of experiencing what, for anyone in their early 50s, is a crucial childhood icon: ‘The Singing, Ringing Tree’.

This East German film was made in 1957, but was not shown by the BBC until 1964, when an English narration was added and the film was split into three episodes. It has since become quite a cult, featuring in the lyrics of a pop song and parodied by the ‘Fast Show’. But this is my first opportunity to see it since I was 10, and my first ever chance to see it in its original glowing colour.

I say ‘motley’, because we range from those old enough to have already been parents in 1964, through babyboomers like ourselves, to twenty-somethings with tiny children-one little girl, it turns out, is seeing her first ever film. Oh, and of course, there is the ever-present dog.

A classic Carpenters number gets us in the mood, and the audience, especially those like us reclining on the beanbags, clap along or wave their arms to the music. The film itself turns out to be deliciously charming, faux-naïve, theatrical and by turns beautiful and kitsch.

And surprisingly, over a distance of more than forty years, much of it proves to be hauntingly familiar. As the once-spoilt, now-redeemed, princess overcomes all obstacles to win her Prince Charming, the audience cheers and claps enthusiastically.

Enchanted, delighted, happy, we emerge once again into the afternoon sunshine, deeply regretting that this will be our last visit to the Ballroom of Dreams-at least for this year.

So, what to make of this remarkable event? Curiously, this enthusiastic encouragement of audience involvement parallels exactly what is happening spontaneously in cinemas across the country (and in our own Screen Machine) with audiences for ‘Mamma Mia’, where singing – and even dancing – along, has become the norm.

Clearly, we’re sick of the sterile processing of the average multiplex, and also of the usual flashy content-lite, CGI-dominated Hollywood product. The Ballerina Ballroom of Dreams has attracted packed houses to view films that are so obscure-and also, in some cases, so old-that not even an adventurous arthouse cinema would risk them.

On the other hand it has taken films that you can see regularly on TV, or DVD at any time, and turned them into must-see occasions. It could have been excruciatingly cute, it could have been a paparazzi-infested outing for international lovies, but instead it has been a life-affirming experience which has broken the mould of how to show, and promote, good cinema. It will take a long time to work through all the implications of this whimsical, visionary, and deeply wacky festival.

© Robert Livingston, 2008

Links

• Ballerina Ballroom Cinema of Dreams