The Thirties: An
Intimate History by Juliet Gardiner
Published by
Harper Press 2010
Hardcover 944
pages
Review by Adrian
Smith
On 31st
December 1929 over 1000 children, unaccompanied by adults, packed into The Glen
Cinema in Paisley, Scotland to watch a short Tom Mix western, some cartoons and
The Crowd, an epic silent movie
directed by King Vidor. Shortly after the programme started, and the natural
rowdiness and noise began to die down, some of the children noticed smoke
coming from the projection booth. The scream of “Fire!†caused major panic, and
as the auditorium filled with both smoke and carbon monoxide there was a rush
to the exits. Unfortunately the main exit had been firmly locked by the owners
to prevent children from letting their friends in without paying. When the
rescue operation was finally over 71 children were dead and many more ill or
injured. This was the worst kind of tragedy to befall a small community, and it
happened in a cinema.
This incredible
story is used by Gardiner to open her fascinating new book on the social
history of Britain as it went from prosperity to recession and into an
inescapable World War. Although this book falls somewhat outside the main focus
of Cinema Retro, it contains an insightful chapter on the development of film
exhibition throughout the decade, and the growth of the “Picture Palaces†or
“Dreamlands†across the country. She quotes some unbelievable statistics that
would make any studio executive today weep with envy: in 1934 903 million cinema tickets were sold in Britain, and this had risen to over
990 million by 1939. This was an average of almost 20
million every single week. Compare that to the UK box office figures for 2009 -
a mere 173.5 million. By 1938 there were nearly 5000 cinemas with some towns
having over 100 each. There are some wonderful descriptions which put our
modern multiplexes to shame. She notes the Astoria in Brixton which was built
like an indoor fantasy of trailing vines, antique statues and a ceiling which
changed like the sky from dawn to dusk, to starry night. As if that wasn’t
enough they scented the auditorium with Yardley’s Lavender perfume. Others were
designed to look like Egyptian pyramids, Baronial halls or mermaid’s palaces.
To top it off, when the audience took their seats they were first entertained
by a man in a white suit rising from the well of the cinema playing popular
tunes on a translucent, flashing, multi-coloured electric organ.