When it comes to jobs, I’ve had my fair share on the wishlist – I once wanted to be a mirror inspector; it was a role I could really see myself doing. I then applied to be part of a human-sized chess board, but I hated working knights. Don’t even get me started on the time I was fired as a set designer; I left without making a scene.
(Needless to say after those gags, comedian was a short lived fad.)
But the most consistent occupation on there has been an actor. So when I got an email saying I could take part in a Quentin Tarantino experience, I was down at Backyard Cinema’s The Last Chapel faster than Speedy Gonzalez smuggling drugs, if the bag burst inside him.
Backyard Cinema have hosted many themed screenings, but this season, the team turned Mercato Metrapolitano into The Last Chapel, an isolated church located in the heart of Nevada. Or, for those of you without an ounce of imagination, it was a small cinema next to a stall selling quinoa wraps.
From the first time I saw the church’s exterior – from the hanging deer skulls, to the rustic crucifixes – I knew this was going to be one of the greatest cinema experiences I ever had. Plus, I got to see two of everything, because I’d already helped myself to two pints at a nearby stall. After Backyard Cinema kitted me out with a ticket, we were escorted in several groups inside the church.
Just inches away from the ‘stage’, one actor came out to perform a very-well original piece, which had many Tarantino trademarks, including his dark humour; “What do you mean ‘Which one?’? They were twins. How the fuck do I know which one?!” The experience’s story follows a mobster who hides out in the chapel, having just murdered the priest, and must pretend to be his replacement until it’s safe to leave. With this, and the comical pre-movie trailers for fictional B-movies, used in Grindhouse, you feel fully involved in Tarantino’s world.
Inside the cinema itself was a bar offering pale ales, wine, and even holy water cocktails. While it was beyond comfortable to chill in a beanbag, wrapped up in the complimentary blanket before the picture, as more guests came in, beanbags began to shuffle and before you know it you had no room at all. But enough of me whining like the lanky beanpole that I am; let’s review the movie.
Showing classic Tarantino pictures, as well as ones inspired by the director – including Drive and True Romance – I knew there was only one Quentin film I should see. No, not The Muppets’ Wizard of Oz. (Seriously, Quentin Tarantino was in that. Google it.) But I saw his 1994 Oscar-winning drama, Pulp Fiction.
It’s gory. It’s funny. And it’s incredibly well written. Pulp Fiction was Quentin Tarantino’s second film with him credited as writer-director, and yet it is one of the most prolific movies in cinematic history, with an astounding screenplay, and let’s face it – from the dance scenes to the gimp, it’s effortlessly cool. Just try to find an edgy hipster who doesn’t have a poster of Mia smoking on their university wall. Plus, any film that can redeem John Travolta from Look Who’s Talking Now deserves any accolade it can get.
Backyard Cinema is still showing some of the finest antagonist-celebrating flicks up until the end of May, and you can grab your tickets right now. I’ll 100% join you; I’ll just check when I’m free… As soon as I can find where I put my golden watch. Hm.