Going to the movies

“Going to the cinema? Are you joking?” That’s the normal reaction from expatriates and locals alike, because the few cinemas that Kinshasa used to have were trashed during the pillages of the 90s and no one thought it worth while rebuilding them. But yes, there is indeed a cinema. Not a reinvented gaudy rococo monster with gilt plasterwork and red plush curtains, and not a modern art-house boutique version either.

This is different: a new interpretation of the concept.

It sits strangely on the top floor of an unfinished office block. There are no signs either on the building itself, nor in the entry hall, so first timers, as they walk up the stairs, mutter “this can’t be right.” You reach the top of the stairs on the third floor and even there the only clue is a solitary film poster stuck on the door.

Once inside, you buy your ticket from a woman sitting behind a little wooden table. She has a form in front of her where she carefully writes the name of the film and number of tickets sold. That’s a slow process, so those waiting in the queue will surely be tut-tutting and looking at the ceiling in exasperation. But there’s no queue. We’ve never seen more than ten people. The next step is to get a drink – coca cola, Fanta, beer or sometimes even wine. There’s none of that nonsense about not being allowed to take alcohol into the show.

You can sit where you like. The seats are little thrones – built of solid wood, with red plush padded seats, each wide enough for an American policeman. Each row has seven seats and there are a mere seven or eight rows, built on a gentle rake.

A few weeks we were there to see a Congolese film. Yes, directed by and acted by Congolese, and shot in Kinshasa, it is called Viva Riva! With dialogue mainly in the local language Lingala, and French subtitles, it is a gangster movie which brings out the squalor, violence and daily struggles of life here. As the American trailer puts is “Kinshasa, where they struggle all day and party all night.” European taxpayers will be interested to know that it received part financing from the European Union. But this is no worthy documentary. It is a gripping and very good story.

A week later the same film was used to launch the European Union Film Festival, with the director on hand to introduce it and answer questions. The festival is an annual event in which member countries get to show interesting films over a period of about two weeks. The venue selected for the Festival was a grand old theatre which belongs to the Jesuits. Unfortunately, the night before the festival was due to open the Bishop had seen the premiere in New York. He was totally shocked by the violence, the sex, the corrupt priest and the homosexuality, so issued an order that the film should not be shown on their premises. So, at seven hour’s notice the whole event had to be moved to the French Cultural centre. There they kept us waiting, and waiting, and waiting. The room was getting very hot and smelly (it was anyway far too small for an event of that importance) and tempers were rising. I’m sorry to say that the interpretation that most people put on the delay was that the Congolese Director was late. That was so untrue – he had been there since well before the start time: no it was the Ambassador of the European Union who was so late . . .

Back to the cinema: they are right up to date with other films. For example, Black Swan was being shown here at the same time as its release in South Africa and the UK.

One has to ask how the cinema can survive if most people don’t even know that it exists, and if they have such tiny audiences. One clue must surely be that the films sometimes carry announcements in mid-scene such as “This film is the property of Weinstein Productions. Released for preview only. Not for public exhibition.”

It’s run like a repertory theatre. On any one day they will show three different films which rotate so that each is shown at different times and different days over a period of two or three weeks. Each Friday after a showing of the most interesting film of the week there is a discussion: apparently those events are comparatively well attended.

But normally, it’s just us. And if, after you’ve watched the first ten minutes or so you decided that you would rather watch another film, you can just ask the projectionist. He’ll scrabble in his heap of DVDs, give you the choice, slot it in, and off you go.

Their attitude to public relations is clearly mixed. They send out their programme by email every Monday. But anything more public is considered, one must be sure, too dangerous because either they’ll get slammed for taxes or royalties. What a waste!

P.S. We have just received an email informing us that unfortunately, due to "a transfer abroad" the cinema will be closed with immediate effect.