Cinéma Alhambra

Films: La fille coupée en deux (2007), Camille Claudel 1915 (2013), Aimer, boire et chanter (2014), Ma Loute (2016), Ivan Tsarévitch et la Princesse Changeante (2016), Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019), Jeanne (2019)

Screens: 4  Ticket price: 7.50€

In the days when we first started going to France on a regular basis (the late 90s), I remember walking past this place when it was a functioning cinema, but not too long into our French sojourns it closed its doors.  I expect this had something to do with The Man (AKA Gaumont -- see post below) muscling into town and setting up shop in Cité Europe -- it figured that as that mall drew shoppers away, Magneto-style, from Calais town centre, then cinemagoers would go the same way.

Thankfully, a few years on and the cinema re-opened as the Alhambra (not sure what its name was before), a lovely 4-screen establishment that crams in a pile of good films thanks to some obviously quite talented programmers.  I seem to recall that the earlier, pre-Gaumont version of this cinema was a more commercial venture, and though I wouldn't like to bet on it, I got the feeling it was pretty much French-language stuff only.  The Alhambra, unlike The Man along the road, shows all films in their original languages (the exception being kids' films, which are dubbed into French if they aren't in it to begin with).  Which makes it a great place to catch the latest Woody Allen film in the event that you can't wait years for it to open in the Anglophone world (and by which time he'll probably have another film out in France).

It's not too often that we've stayed over in Calais and therefore we tend to have trouble fitting in a screening there, but for my birthday in 2007 we (meaning my wife) decided to make a weekend of it and booked a nice hotel with a friendly dog (read that however you want -- was the dog resident in the hotel, or did he help us make the booking?  I know which is the more tantalising).  It meant we had time for a fine meal and could also catch an evening screening of the new Claude Chabrol (RIP), one of my favourite directors.  I thought the film was great, and my mood was helped no end by the superb experience that is the Alhambra -- friendly box-office staff, fellow audience members who clearly mean business, and an atmospheric, comfortable interior.  And if the excitement of this place gets too much and you get caught short, you don't have to traipse for miles to find the toilets and subsequently miss a big chunk of the film, as they're actually situated inside the auditorium.  Nice.  Although, if nature does call, everyone knows what you've been doing.  And they'll strike up a chant to that effect.  In French.

I thoroughly enjoyed my time at the Alhambra, and it's a pity that potential visits there rarely seem to work out timing-wise. It was great to see a Chabrol film on its initial release in a French cinema, and thankfully it was this one and not his next (sadly also his swansong), Bellamy -- which to me was the worst film he'd made in nigh on 20 years. 

Update:  In August 2012 the cinema decided to sell off all the film posters they'd had since, well, way back when.   This rather unique event merited a Calais excursion in itself, and a friend and I spent an afternoon combing through the endless, orderless piles in search of gems; hard work indeed, especially given that unfolding/re-folding most of these was a slightly tricky job as each tended to be the size of a football pitch.  As it turned out, gems weren't hard to come by and I even found one for the Chabrol I'd seen there, which made for a very nice touch.  I also managed to get a few posters for other films I'd seen in French cinemas -- how many can you spot in the gallery?

Update: In mid-2015 there was another poster sale; peruse the bounty here.

Update: May 2016 saw me visit the Alhambra and chalk up my 50th French cinema experience.  Of course, it's possible that I can't count and I'm still on fortysomething, but having gone through these posts multiple times I'm pretty sure I'm at the half-century mark.  Fittingly, this landmark figure was achieved via a great film (Bruno Dumont's Ma Loute) at a fine cinema.  I honestly can't see me getting another 50 in as it's taken 12 years to get to this point, so I may as well savour this moment...

Update: September 2019 -- more posters, y'all.

Update: October 2019 -- yet more posters.  I've now managed to get the cinema's poster for every film I've seen there.  But should the completist in me jeopardise this fragile status by seeing another film there, knowing that I'm not guaranteed to get hold of the poster?  Of course I should.

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UGC Ciné Cité Rouen

Film: Match Point (2005)

Screens: 14  Ticket price: 9.40€

The road to Rouen.  And it very nearly was, as we narrowly escaped being caught up in the notorious French riots of 2005 that took place in many cities across the country, including the capital of Upper Normandy.  Rouen is a great city that's perhaps best known as the place where Milla Jovovich was burned at the stake way back in 1431.  It's replete with nice Norman houses, souvenirs featuring cows, and apple products (no, not iPods -- think again).

One evening we were indulging in one of our not-so-favourite holiday pastimes of procrastinating over where to have dinner and wandering the streets between our hotel and the city centre (in the end we predictably went to the Quick burger joint about 5 minutes away from the hotel).  During our walk we went along one particular street where groups of young men lined the pavement.  None of them bothered us in the slightest, but they all cast their eyes over us as we walked past.  Looking back it's now fairly clear that the area we were blithely drifting through was something of a war room for the mayhem that was to occur over the next few days.  Had we realised that at the time, I doubt if we'd have been doing much walking through that area -- we'd have needed parachutes fitted to our backs to slow us down once we'd cleared it.

It's kind of sad really, as Rouen was such a nice place and we had a really good time there, but I guess we should just consider ourselves lucky -- after all, it'd all have been a lot sadder had our car been torched.  Our hotel was run by a nice woman who owned a lovely Golden Labrador who we got to know a little bit, and this smiley character happily agreed to pose with us for some pictures in the car park (sorry, friend, we lied about there being all-you-can-eat dog biscuits out there).  Hope he and his mum stayed safe once the riots began.  Anyway, oblivious to the scenes that were soon to unfold, we spent some time in the Saint-Sever shopping centre, a decent place with some nice eateries as well as the expected shops -- my wife bought a couple of tops in a small La Redoute there, and the friendly assistant seemed genuinely amazed that a couple of étrangers were in the shop, let alone purchasing something while not wishing to sign up for the catalogue (which is something of an institution in France).  We do like to mess with people.

The shopping centre also played home to the UGC, and during our stay they had a preview of Woody Allen's Match Point (original language and subbed).  Allen, like Ken Loach and Mike Leigh, is revered in France and it's generally the place to go if you want an early look at his new film.  I remember the guy at the ticket counter asking if we wanted our parking validated and looking surprised when we told him we'd walked there (see, up to our usual tricks again there. Maybe he was the husband/brother of Ms. La Redoute?)  As our micro-conversation continued he said he thought we were local to Rouen -- not sure whether to believe him or not, I thought I may as well take my victories where I find them and took the compliment with a smile.  You, Sir, can sell me my ticket again, I thought (not for the same film, mind -- though it'd be easy enough to fork out twice when you've been puffed up like that.  I'm talking about a future screening that, more than five years on, still hasn't happened).

Anyway, the film was very enjoyable, the crowd appreciative and the cinema clean and comfortable.  The walk home in the dark passed without incident (insert joke about wife's temper here) and when we got back I ended up watching a midnight TV showing of Chabrol's The Cry of the Owl.  Good stuff.  Why didn't I buy it on DVD before it ended up rocketing in price?  I did buy the Paddy Considine/Julia Stiles version for £2, but I'm really not sure it'll be quite the same.

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Studio 28

Montmartre, dominated by the Sacré-Cœur

Films: 5x2 (2004), La moustache (2005)

Screens: 1  Ticket price: 9€

The first cinema I set foot in on French soil (unless we count non-film excursions to the UGC in Lille) still stands as one of the best.  Both times we've been there we've been staying just around the corner from the cinema on the steep Rue Tholozé, which is deep in the heart of Amélie country (indeed, part of that film was shot in the cinema's opulent interior), AKA Montmartre.

There's something very special about this one-screener.  Luis Buñuel's shockfest L'Age d'Or debuted here, as did his later Los Olvidados.  At one time Jean Cocteau was closely associated with the place and designed some of the interior features such as the light fittings, a peek at which is arguably worth the (by no means extortionate) ticket price alone -- or, you could just click on the link (that reminds me -- put your 'phone away, you ****).  There's a nice-looking bar (no food or drink allowed in the cinema, mind) and (hopefully still) a charming resident Wire Fox Terrier; we once swung by there when the cinema was shut as part of its annual closing, and as we stood outside figuring out our next move, the dog drove past and glanced at the cinema.  It's true -- he was in the left-hand seat, and I very much doubt the car was an import.

My inaugural experience of a film at a French cinema was a preview of Ozon's sweaty 5x2 -- a film that, at the time, I felt was less than the sum of its parts and actually more like 6/10 (I thank you).  But in the months that followed it really started to grow on me, for several reasons --  it does have an emotional resonance, it featured the great Michael Lonsdale, there's fine use of Sparring Partner on the soundtrack, and even that reedy sister of the first lady (who's also rent-a-deviant Louis Garrel's real-life Mrs Robinson) was pretty good in it.  Man, did she stink in that Chabrol film.  The cinema, which probably has only a couple of hundred seats, was packed and they even conducted a short pre-film quiz, which sounds really intense and geeky but was actually quite relaxed and fun.  Tuesday night previews are a staple there, and I would imagine that if I lived round those parts (as if...) I'd become one of the many who religiously turn out for them.  Films are always in their original language there -- it's a pretty hardcore place, but fun and friendly.

Since you weren't wondering, the "28" part in the name comes from the year the cinema opened, which apparently makes it the longest-running picture house in Paris.  The cinema was immortalised in a 1998 film starring Mike Myers.

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