suscratchia.
With Professor X was looking after our mutant offspring we decided to take in a romantic movie and a few drinks this week.
And obviously you can't get anymore romantic than this:
Smoking and chatting excitedly outside (whilst obviously being pass remarkable about some of the fashions surrounding us and the fact that someone had felt the need to show their superior Argento fan-ness by wearing a, gulp, Creepers t-shirt) we came across our friend (and fellow Eurotrash enthusiast) Skinny John.
It appeared, according to John's sources that we were about to view a BRAND NEW uncut, recoloured and polished by the director himself copy of the movie!
Oh and he also pointed out that he has tickets to the UK premiere of Giallo and that I do not.
Bastard.
Anyway, we took our seats (mine was dedicated to Wet wet Wet) and waited eagerly for the movie to start.
Imagine our surprise (made worse by general audience apathy) when the curtains opened to reveal a scratchy burnt out BBFC title card informing us that the following film had been rated 'X'.
So much for the brand new print, the one they were showing appeared to have been hidden in a bin behind The Scala, left there when the debt collectors raided.
A shiny new print of Suspiria yesterday.
The one we saw on Wednesday night.
John on the other hand saw it a wee bit differently.
Especially at the twelve minute mark when part of the first murder appeared to be missing from the print, engulfed in a haze of scratches and pops.
"I am furious!" he shouted at anyone who'd listen "I am not paying good money to see cut Argento!"
And with that he left.
John: Furious.
Saying that tho', Sarah's death by piano wire was slashed to ribbons and missing it's denouement (an unforgivable crime - the cuts not the murder obviously, she deserved it) which frankly put me on edge for the rest of the movie, spending far too much time looking for cuts meaning that I couldn't fully appreciate Udo Kier's lovely flyaway hair in the next scene.
But all things considered you have to take your hat off to the lovely cinema staff for even considering showing the movie in the first place and inadvertantly taking us oldies back to the halcyon days of the video nasty bill, when you'd pay a fiver down the market for a copy of Bloody Moon, not knowing if it was a first or nth generation copy or even a dodgy Swedish animal erotica in a badly photostatted cover.
And for reviving those memories I thank you.