In real life those words tell you your relationship is heading in one direction (you should get yourself a lawyer, honey, and a good one because the only place it is heading is the divorce courts.) But with film club things are different. Extra marital relations are to be encouraged. Essential, even, if we are to keep it fresh and interesting.
We’re not fussy. Local love affair or long distance fling. This year we’ve got in to bed with other local film programmers in Sheffield, and put ourselves out there nationally as part of the Scalarama festival. We’ve watched a secret canalside fund raising screening, and been invited to Mr. Feather’s council house front room cine club for beef brisket pie and Iranian film in the charming company of Alex, Sohail and Graeme. Soon a handwritten letter will be sent (S.W.A.L.K.) to Peter Doig’s Trinidadian film club. All I can say is, he just bloody well reply.
This weekend we’ll be at the British Federation of Film Societies annual conference. It’s like speed dating for film clubs. We don’t intend to behave well. We’ll be stealing everyone else’s best ideas, writing phone numbers on the back of bus tickets, then giggling about it afterwards in the toilets.
Meeting other film clubs is good. Monogamy, for a film club, is a slow slow decline. You wouldn’t want us staying in all the time wearing our old pyjamas and giving up trying now would you? We intend to scratch that three and half year itch (that’s how long we’ve been together). And although we wouldn’t encourage any film clubber to play away, promiscuity for us is a good, good thing.