Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds (1963) on the marquee, so before my time.
I was fortunate to be growing up in Farsta because Fanfaren was huge and not some small, second-run theatre. It had over 500 seats, one of the biggest screens in Stockholm, and was a premiere cinema. At least until 1985. Then it became a lot smaller and was no longer a premiere cinema. Instead, cinema screenings had to compete with theatre plays, music performances and other kinds of cultural activities of varying level of competence. It also had a small kiosk where you could get chocolate and assorted candy. I do not remember whether they had popcorn, but they did have Nickel, which is what I would usually get.
I visited this cinema frequently, sometimes several times a week, but I have forgotten most of what I saw there. But there are some exceptions, and in particular there were these seven films that I can vividly recall watching: a re-release of Robin Hood (Wolfgang Reitherman 1973), Herbie Goes Bananas (Vincent McEveety 1980), The Color of Money (Martin Scorsese 1986), The Last Emperor (Bernardo Bertolucci 1987), Batman (Tim Burton 1989), The Hunt for Red October (John McTiernan 1990) and Miller's Crossing (Joel and Ethan Coen 1990).
Robin Hood is the Disney version, and if I remember correctly I saw it by chance. I was doing some sort of organised outdoor group activity (not the boy scouts but something like it, for small children) when it started to rain, and the man in charge of the event suggested we go to the cinema and watch a film instead, and Fanfaren was showing Robin Hood. As it happens, this is my earliest film memory. I particularly remember a fire, which terrified me. I do not know exactly when I saw it, which year it was, so I do not know how old I was. But despite being terrified, it is a memory I treasure a lot.
When I saw Herbie Goes Bananas, I was older and it was not by chance. I went to the cinema by myself because I wanted to watch this particular film. And I loved it so much, and could not stop talking about it when I came home. Me and dad had a discussion about the use of point-of-view shots, among other things. I do not know if it was the first time I went by myself, but it might have been and this might be one reason why I remember it all so well. It opened in Sweden (including on Fanfaren) in September 5, 1981, just a few days after my birthday. I was only seven, yet already I was going to the cinema by myself. But being out by myself was something I was used to. I would always walk on my own to the nursery (loudly singing Beatles songs), and sometimes I would disappear afterwards, to play, alone or with a friend, so my parents would go out to look for me.
When The Color of Money came out I did not go by myself, but with my dad. I said I wanted to go to the cinema and he asked what I wanted to watch. He was expecting some youth film and was surprised when I said The Color of Money. He was also relieved, because that was something he might also enjoy, so we went together. I do not remember what he thought about it but I liked it a lot, and can still recall each crisply edited pool scene. It is one of the few films by Scorsese I have never re-watched, and this is partly because I feel like it would remove it from its status as a dear childhood memory and become just another film.
I do not remember who I watched The Last Emperor with, but I think it was with my mother. This is also a film I have never watched again, despite thinking after I had seen it that it was maybe the best film I had ever seen. There are plenty of scenes I remember in detail, and the broken chronology, and Peter O'Toole. It is not an easy film for a twelve-year old, but there I was, having a cinematic experience like few others. Unlike The Color of Money, this is a film I would like to re-watch today.
It might be forgotten today, but the marketing campaign for Burton's Batman was exceptional. It was everywhere, all the time, and it was not dissimilar to the MCU films of now. A classmate said excitedly that she was convinced that every human being on the planet was going to watch Batman. (In the photo above of the cinema entrance there is a high-rise in the background. She lived in that building, so she had easy access to the cinema.) The film was not quite that successful, but at least I watched it. Again by myself. I hated it. And not only did I hate it, but it had me so wound up, I could not sleep that night. It was like had some kind of fever, the room was spinning as soon as I closed my eyes, and I felt physically sick. The next morning all was well again, but it was a visit to the cinema I wished could be undone. For a while it made me reluctant to go back to Fanfaren. But not for long.
The following year, in the autumn of 1990, it was time for The Hunt for Red October. I had already watched it with friends at one of the larger cinemas in the city centre, but as I liked it so much, I dragged my mother and brother with me when I wanted to re-watch it. I was as thrilled as the first time, and I remember my mother's gasp of shock when Sean Connery's character was shot. Afterwards though my brother (four years younger) was complaining. He had not enjoyed it at all, although, he emphasised, "it was not a bad film." I appreciated that. I am not sure if he said it just to please me, or if he meant that it was a well-made, well-acted film, but that he found it boring.
The final memory is when I took my dad with me to watch Miller's Crossing, and we were both mesmerised by it. The scene in the forest with John Turturro begging for his life will haunt me forever.
