Martin at the Venice. Photograph by Thomas Crone.
If St. Louis has a reputation as a city that picks up on national trends a little bit late, the recent arrival of multiple movie theaters that serve food confirms our rep. In just the last year, at least four venues have opened or been adapted into movie houses-with-meals. So maybe we’re bit delayed in our response time, but we’re super-enthusiastic once something sticks.
A twist to the above is the showing of movies in bars and taverns. And that’s something that’s not at all new to town, with venues like Lemmon’s long hosting cinema nights. In recent days, other options have begun to spring up, some of them more than official than others. Here’re two city-based events that lovers of drinking-and-viewing might consider.
Snobby Elitist Film Club
First Wednesdays @ 8 p.m.
The Heavy Anchor
5226 Gravois, 314-352-5226
On the last Wednesday of the month, the Heavy Anchor features the Movie Dub Club, which allows for a more interactive way to take in cult cinema. On the first (barring a special musical act being booked), the funky South City venue hosts the Snobby Elitist Film Club, which offers two acclaimed films. (If you show up mid-month, you'll still be treated to a free double-feature. But these screenings fall under the more general moniker "Film Club.") [Disclosure: Snobby Elitist Film Club is programmed by Look-Listen's film critic, Andrew Wyatt, a fact unknown to our writer when he tackled this story. Just so you know! -Ed.]
With no cover, the venue provides an interesting place to watch movies, with the “club side” offering rows of old-school theatre chairs, a nice, big AV screen and club-quality sound. And, if you’re there early enough, you might be able to dip into the communal popcorn machine, which gives the Heavy Anchor that time-tested movie theatre smell.
A couple weeks back, I dropped by the venue and sat down just a couple minutes into the night’s second presentation, the 2002 film Bloody Sunday. The Paul Greengrass-directed film tackles the 1972 incident in which British paratroopers infamously shot down unarmed civil rights marchers in Derry, Northern Ireland. It’s a tough and unforgiving film, shot as if a documentary and devoid of traditional narrative touches, like swelling, emotive background music. On this night, there were exactly three of us that took in Bloody Sunday with plenty of elbow room for all of us snobby elitists.
The venue’s got some quirky touches, no doubt. For example, both the bathrooms and the entry to the smoking patio are located in the back of the Anchor. This means that a steady stream of people are cutting through a left-side walkway to those destinations, just along your periphery vision. Sometimes, they’re quiet and respectful to the movie-viewers; other times, they keep their conversations rolling. But hey: it’s a bar! And, yeah, that barroom sound can drift through the garage doors that separate the club side from the venue side. But hey: yeah, that’s right, it’s a bar!
These are minor quibbles; and it’s not as if watching films at home is a distraction-free experience. The room, as noted earlier, has a really neat feel for films. And the price is right; to be able to see two curated films on a weekly basis for no cost is a nice option for the midweek, allowing you to sample just one, or to make a night of it.
Movies are usually listed on the Heavy Anchor’s site a week or two before the evening in question. Based on the curation of the series to date, there’s a good chance that the films are going to be of high-, even elitist-level, quality.
VHS Visions
Mondays @ 4 to 8 p.m.
The Venice Cafe
1903 Pestalozzi, 314-772-5994
Here’s a weekly movie night so low-key that we’re forced to invent a name for it: VHS Visions, with your video curator Misty Rose Martin. Bartending at the beloved club during the Monday happy hour, Martin began bringing her considerable VHS collection to the Benton Park venue on what’s a sometimes-slow shift, with a heavy emphasis on films aren’t exactly tabbed as “critically acclaimed.” (Though, it’s true, a few are.)
Instead, the night’s about primarily fun, with movies such as Pecker and Pump Up the Volume competing for viewing time with TV shows like Pee-Wee’s Playhouse and the novelties like The California Raisins. There’s not a theme to each evening, so you might watch police shoot-’em-up immediately followed by a rom-com sequel or the occasional educational video. There’s usually a stack of about eight videos on the back bar and customers can register a partial say in the picks.
Martin can count on a weekly visit from her core regulars: Mark, Brian, Bill. Sometimes Guy or Tom show up, too, adding to the small conversations that often include Venice founder Jeff Lockheed. He drifts in and out from projects throughout the building and grounds, often adding short, trenchant commentary on the afternoon’s showings, before moving on; these moments are among some of the most-enjoyable moments during VHS Visions afternoons.
Of course, it’s the movies that ultimately drive the fun. And Martin’s got (literally) a thousand to pull from, including 800 on the often-discredited VHS format. But it’s the sheer size of that collection that allows for a film like Mannequin Two: On the Move to get a public viewing, 22 years after release and subsequent near-obscurity. That Mannequin Two: On the Move plays out like you expect isn’t exactly a surprise; that you wind up going in for a beer and then leave after watching the entire movie, well, that is a surprise.
Also surprising is that there’s sound on the TV. During the rest of the week, the Venice Cafe’s slightly scritchy color TV might be on, but no sound escapes it, forcing attendees into actual, human discussions and interaction. But, interestingly enough, Monday afternoons don’t lack for conversations. It’s just the comments are themed and tied to that day’s film, which might be The Stepford Wives or The Wicker Man or something involving that rascal Chucky.
Martin admits that some of the regulars may not claim to be interested in the films, but “they watch the movies, oh, they do watch them.” And they laugh and cry and crack wise until 8 p.m., when the Venice’s open mic restarts all those responses start anew, in an entirely new vein.
