‘SCALA!!!’: London Review

Dirs: Jane Giles, Ali Catterall UK. 2023. 96mins

Throughout the tumultuous 1980s, London’s fiercely independent Scala cinema was the destination of choice for cultural outliers, thanks not just to its eclectic programme — which took in everything from Hollywood classics to sexploitation flicks — but also because of its ’anything goes’ attitude. This affectionate if undeniably niche documentary looks back on the cinema’s heyday via talking-head interviews with the myriad filmmakers, musicians, writers, artists and activists who frequented its (apparently deeply uncomfortable) seats; all of whom have a colourful story to tell.

For all the talk of back row fumbles and acid-fuelled all-nighters, there is a seriousness here, too

Releasing in the UK on January 5 through BFI Distribution, having played Fantastic Fest and London, SCALA!!! will primarily appeal to fans of either the cinema itself, the 1980s scene or the smorgasbord of movies it screened — film clips are varied and bountiful. The presence of filmmakers including John Waters, Peter Strickland and Ben Wheatley (the latter appearing only via voice interview) could also help capture wider attention although it will likely find its strongest audience on streaming, where it may well become something of a cult favourite, like the cinema.

Owned and run by now-producer Stephen Woolley (who appears in the film), the Scala lived between 1978 and 1993, first in Tottenham Street and then moving to the iconic turreted building in Kings Cross in 1981. During these years, it was a counterculture “garden of Eden” (as noted by comedian and Scala fan Stewart Lee) in a country being pounded by an iron-fisted Tory government. Regular audiences consisted of punks, rockers, new romantics, members of the LGBTQ+ community; anyone, in fact, who did not conform to the norm. Among them were young people finding their tribe; then-teenagers like musician and DJ Mark Moore and comedian Adam Buxton. 

Filmmakers Jane Giles, a former Scala programmer (the film is a spin-off from her 2018 book and she also appears on camera), and Ali Catterall, a long-established film and culture journalist, successfully capture this hedonistic atmosphere. Interviewees are shown against composite backdrops of the cinema’s faded interior, interspersed with archive photographs and video footage which bring it back to life. Credits and captions embrace a punky aesthetic, while editing is brisk and the use of well-chosen short clips from films screened by the Scala — including Pasolini’s Salo, Or The 120 Days Of Sodom, Derek Jarman’s Jubilee, Sam Raimi’s The Evil Dead and Curt McDowell’s Thundercrack! — keeps things moving. The score from New Wave musician Barry Adamson (who also features as an interviewee) is also propulsive, but can often feel imposing.

SCALA!!! (which is subtitled ’Or, the incredibly strange rise and fall of the world’s wildest cinema and how it influenced a mixed-up generation of weirdos and misfits’) is a film fuelled by stories, memories, experiences. Now-famous patrons such as Waters, Strickland, filmmaker Mary Harron and songwriter Matt Johnson, together with former staff members, enthusiastically share their own personal pieces of the Scala — from life-changing moments in front of the screen to the bizarre things they encountered elsewhere in the building. With each colourful recollection you can almost feel the sticky floors and hear the rumble of the Northern Line as it passes underneath; that’s also thanks to immersive sound design incorporating recordings made throughout the building.

For all the talk of back row fumbles and acid-fuelled all-nighters, there is a seriousness here, too. The Scala was an essential sanctuary at a time when gay, Black and minority rights were being hammered, Aids was rife and non-conformity was considered a crime. It did not just provide a safe space, but opportunities for acceptance and genuine activism, holding regular benefits for things such as the Gay Switchboard, the Terrence Higgins Trust and the striking miners. While The Scala cinema’s doors closed for good in 1993 (although it lives on as a music venue) – thanks to an expired lease and a large fine for screening a pirated copy of the then-banned A Clockwork Orange – it clearly lives on in the community of artists and activists to whom it proved such vibrant inspiration.