Brown Dog Cinema Club

Nobody agrees on how it started, and nobody has been persuaded to write it down. There was an argument. There was a projector. What we had there, as somebody put it at the time, was a failure to communicate¹Cool Hand Luke 1967 — and the argument is ongoing.

The rules are few and unwritten, which is how we prefer them. The lights stay down until the credits finish. Nobody explains the ending to anybody. Arriving late is forgiven; talking is not. What one member has, the next one generally decides they will have what she’s having²When Harry Met Sally… 1989, which is how a taste becomes a habit.

An evening is a picture, a few words before it, and an argument afterwards — enough ceremony to feel like an occasion, not so much that anyone dresses up. When a season needs filling we round up the usual suspects³Casablanca 1942 and start again. Members hear the programme first. Where we meet is a question for members, and the answer changes. Ask at the door.

Somebody always starts one. Answer honestly; nobody is checking, which is rather the point.