Page 9 - CinemaRecord #21R.pdf

72. The Bijou- Mitcham by Roger Seccomb

It all started with "Dudley Flats". Not the wasteland of swamps that once spread south from Footscray Road to
the Docklands, but a ramshackle home-made garden shed in Kew, inauspiciously so christened. That was my
first "cinema", officially named "The Star". Built early in the 1950's, the shed had no power of course, so the first
projector to be installed, a primitive affair that ran short 16mm film strip loops, had to be battery-powered. I even
lined the shed's interior with old tar-paper so daytime shows were possible. A hand-wound record player with
old 78rpm discs (Fats Waller was much favoured) was the only musical accompaniment available. A ticket box
was constructed out of two banana boxes from the local fruit shop, and tickets (admission prices were one
halfpenny and one penny) were raffle tickets collected from the monastery fete held annually across the road.
Ticket supplies stopped when one year the monks accused the operators of "The Star" of collecting the used
tickets to re-use, so they supposed, on the spinning wheels.
Dudley Flats wasn't the actual beginning though. That was earlier, (probably around 1950) when I attempted to
satisfy my film-making frustrations by drawing primitive sketches on long strips of lunchwrap or tracing paper
which were wound laboriously from one piece of dowel to another to be displayed briefly behind a fanciful
proscenium decorated with side curtains and plastic flowers. The whole was illuminated from the rear by a
primitive desk lamp. The inspiration for this contraption was an article in "The Boy Mechanic". I can even
remember some of the early titles of these extravaganzas: Imagine the box office appeal of "Front Wheel Drive"
(parts one and two no less) and "Trains". I had reasonably patient family members and relatives otherwise my
early obsession might have been nipped in the bud!

Dudley Flats (or "The Star'') didn't last much more than a year or two as a cinema because the bakelite battery
powered projector (from Herbert Smalls) seemed to have a short "use-by" date: the plastic claw wore out fast
and tore the sprocket holes readily. From there it was back to my bedroom as an ancient 35mm machine (mains
powered) replaced the 16mm job after much pleading to my mother around my birthday in September 1955.
So, "The Star" moved back to share my cluttered bedroom to which willing (and unwilling) family members and
friends were dragged for a dose of films over the next two or three years.

The "films" were primitive: merely short lengths of 35mm, and a motley collection too. I had inherited some short
fragments of British Empire News and even standard 35mm film strips that could be laboriously wound by hand
through the projector. The problem was that, as it got hot, the lens tended to jam in its mount which made
focusing a little difficult! I remember one highlight in particular. A school friend lent me a film of his father's, taken
on missionary work in the South Seas with a title worthy of the grandest marquee: "Thirty Two Years Amongst
the Cannibals of the South Sea Islands"! I had several return seasons of this film by demand! Whether it was
the images of human artefacts preserved by the cannibals or merely that the usual fare I screened was so
boring I'm not sure, but audiences seemed to show more than normal interest in this offering.

December 1957 was a special date. I had just visited the Athenaeum in the city to see "The Smallest Show on
Earth" where Peter Sellers plays the inebriated projectionist. I was so entranced that, henceforth, "The Star''
became "The Bijou" and, forty years on, our present cinema still bears the name "Bijou". Of course, one of the
more logical reasons for using the name was its description as "The Smallest Show on Earth", a description that
has more than adequately defined every Bijou since. My Bijou's have never been known for having spacious
dimensions as audiences are always quick to point out!

Screenings at this early Bijou were generally held on Fridays, Saturdays and sometimes Sundays at 7.30pm
with the occasional Saturday matinee for my school friends. I even ran Film Festivals for the long-suffering
patrons. But, as the end of the 50's approached and Matriculation year loomed large, study consumed much of
my time. So did a growing obsession that I wanted to make films, not just show them. Holiday jobs in the local
post office, at Myers, Leviathan Stores and Norman Brothers Stationers finally produced sufficient money to
purchase an 8mm Bolex camera and projector.

I count 1960 as the watershed year. I was now screening my own small epics and (would you believe?) audi-
ences actually improved. Some of the reason for that must be credited to the fact that family, relatives and
friends were often coerced to act in the films and probably came along out of curiosity to see what sort of fool I
had made of them! I remember my sister was murdered in one of them! Her murderer was played by her
husband, no less! While a fellow student at the University was co-opted into another murder mystery. I was,
you'll guess, in thrall to the films of Alfred Hitchcock. Apart from Coora Films' output, I also hired commercial
films on 8mm from the then well-known libraries that operated out of Kodak, Herbert Small's, Peter Fox, Carr
Camera Company and Rosier Camera Company. They were the days when you could even hire features from
Kodak's Library: Laurel and Hardy, Rin-Tin-Tin and the like, silent with subtitles.