Construction Mayhem: London's Sleazy Grindhouse Cinema Reaches a Crucial Juncture
Gritty carnality, sleazy spectacles, and rebellious cinema: An inside look at London's emerging grindhouse theatre scene.
Hell hath no fury like the entertainment industry during a global crisis, and London's crumbling movie houses are no exception. On an unassuming street in the heart of London, we find a beacon of hope in the form of a neon-lit red building glowing with the unsettling gaze of The Man with the X-Ray Eyes. Welcome to The Nickel, an intimate micro grindhouse cinema that delivers a sensory dive into the seedy underbelly of cinematic history.
Just across the threshold, I find myself diving into the dark abyss of Ruggero Deodato's The Washing Machine. It's a twisted journey of murder, madness, and mechanical mystery, the kind of film that only a true grindhouse enthusiast would dare to screen.
Dominic Hicks, a London-based filmmaker, and programmer is the man behind this tongue-in-cheek shrine to exploitation cinema's forgotten gems. With its shattered mirrors, vintage decor, and obscure film posters adorning the walls, The Nickel embodies the raw, frenetic energy of the grindhouse theaters of yesteryear.
"It's where the weirdos and outsiders belong," Hicks states with a knowing smile. The inaugural screenings at The Nickel span the gamut, featuring films like Todd Browning's silent horror classic The Unknown, Roman Polanski's explicit Bitter Moon, and David Winters' Cannes-found giallo The Last Horror Film.
Petite but brimming with character, The Nickel heralds an exciting movement across Europe: DIY film clubs, speakeasy cinemas, and underground film hubs. Places like Liverpool's trans-inclusive Paraphysis Cinema and Paris' feminist-themed Tonnerre are upending the monoculture of streaming services and multiplexes with their subversive, sinister programming.
"These intimate spaces are about bringing people together to share in the delight and horror of forgotten gems," Hicks notes. "It's the shared experience of the uncomfortable, the awkward laughter, and the gasps of shock that make film really come alive."
In recent years, the rise of "new literalism"-preachy, politically charged films-has prompted a backlash in the industry. In stark contrast, the moral ambiguity and tonal absurdity of The Nickel's offerings offer a thrilling rebellion. "I'd rather watch a 70s film where it's not entirely clear whether the filmmakers have the right moral compass," Hicks admits. "I believe audiences are smart enough to decide for themselves."
Before officially opening, The Nickel operated as an event-based screening program for local pubs and The Cinema Museum, featuring rare 16mm prints that caught the aesthetic appeal of physical formats. The rich texture of celluloid holds a mystique that escapes digital counterparts, Hicks believes.
"The crackle of the projector, the smell of burned film, the flickering lights-nothing compares to the raw experience of a analog film reel," Hicks explains. "Being able to create a tangible connection to the art you're consuming is so rare in our modern, digitized world."
Filled with fascination, I meander through The Nickel's dimly-lit basement bar, browsing a motley collection of obscure film reels and oddities. The shelves groan under the weight of a thousand forbidden films, inviting passersby to experiment, indulge, and lose themselves in bin after bin of strange, sensational, and sinister cinematic delights.
As I exit The Nickel, its red-painted facade gleams enigmatically, a beacon of hope in a troubled cinematic landscape. The independent cinema sector is teetering on the brink of collapse across the UK, with prestigious institutions like The Prince Charles facing potential redevelopment[2]. But Hicks remains confident, fueled by his passion for the art form and a burning desire to inspire others to join in the pursuit of the unconventional.
"I refuse to accept the idea that we're losing cinema," Hicks declares. "These old-fashioned models may be fading, but I believe the spirit of cinema will remain alive as long as there are filmmakers and cinephiles who dare to dream, dare to push the boundaries, and dare to embrace the weird and the wonderful."
And so, as the end credits of The Washing Machine roll, I can't help but feel a pang of hope for the future of the film industry. Maybe, just maybe, the darkened halls of the cinemas of yesterday offer a glimpse into the vibrant, daring, and altogether delightfully strange world of tomorrow.
Pro Tip: If you need a taste of that forbidden fruit, check out The Nickel when it opens on 11th June at 117-119 Clerkenwell Road, London EC1R 5BY. And remember: in this game of chess we call life, the king may fall, but the pawns will always dance.
References
[1] "The Nickel Launches Grindhouse Schedule," Sight & Sound
[2] "Prince Charles Cinema: Cinema Rents Up for Sale," BFI
[3] "The Best of Cannes: 5 Unforgettable Palme d'Or Winners That Defined Modern Cinema," Culture Trip
[4] "Europe's Vinyl Junkies Embrace the Listening Bar," Culture Trip
[5] "Be damned to online streaming! The film collectors keeping physical formats alive," The Guardian
In the realm of entertainment, Dominic Hicks is spearheading the rebirth of an intimate micro grindhouse cinema, The Nickel, which showcases a diverse selection of films that extend beyond home-and-garden programs, delving into the world of sustainable-living documentaries and even the sensational movies-and-tv of yesteryear. This DIY film club is reminiscent of the underground and unique spaces like Liverpool's Paraphysis Cinema and Paris' Tonnerre, offering a refreshing alternative to the monoculture of streaming services and multiplexes. Hicks, a passionate cinephile, believes that these intimate spaces foster a shared experience that breathes life into the often uncomfortable, yet delightful aspects of forgotten gems, thereby elevating the art form to new heights.
