The Film Buff Pt. 1 (VILLAGE TALES EP. 13 )

Terry Marshall is a keen collector of old family movies. While watching a street carnival with his girlfriend, Jill, 

Terry recognises his mother and himself in a pushchair. Jill points out the man with his arm 

around her and holding what she thinks must be his brother.

 Terry tells her he has no brother, but is he right?

One of the regulars in our local, Terry Marshal as I have mentioned is a film buff. He claims his fascination was born watching his father use the living room wall on which to project their holiday slides, a regular occurrence whenever there were visitors, a torment many of us have suffered. Presented with a Fisher Price Movie Viewer one Christmas, coupled with the increased use of visual aids in his school, particularly a projector, and his fascination for the moving image was cemented for life.

At the time there was a limited supply of full length movies for the amateur enthusiast. Laurel and Hardy ‘shorts’ were amongst the most popular.

It should have come as no surprise that Terry’s Saturday job whilst still at school helping out at a local cinema would eventually became his full time job. His father was particularly disappointed that unlike others in the neighbourhood Terry had chosen to leave school rather than to go on to sixth form and eventually to university. 

‘A wasted opportunity,’ was how his father saw it and rued the day he had bought the Christmas present that had sparked Terry’s all absorbing passion. 

‘From such small gestures,’ his father would repeat ironically, ‘lives are made or ruined,’ and he would emphasise the ‘ruined’. Terry’s mother was more sanguine.

‘If he’s happy, what more could you ask?’ She would say, but his father thought Terry’s obsession was a pointless hobby, a waste of time and there was no future in it. That Terry was able to offer them free passes to whatever blockbuster was being shown locally seemed to pass his father by and was considered no compensation for a son failing to achieve his potential.

Whereas most boys in their late teens have racks of LPs, Terry’s bedroom had cans of films and a rather ancient Kodak 8mm projector instead of the ubiquitous Dansette record player. The cost of cine film cameras and projectors was prohibitive, but all that was about to change.

When his father was presented with a video tape recorder by a grateful client in the early eighties no matter how many times he read the instructions, TV programmes were partly, or more often ether entirely missed. As VHS became more popular so the previous forms of film recording and playing became obsolete. VHS was the ultimate technology and further advancement seemed impossible. It was ‘cutting edge’ and ‘state of the art’ in the same way that LPs were replaced by cassettes, cassettes by CDs, CDs by digital downloads, and digital downloads by whatever’s next.

A whole new world opened up for Terry. He was able to acquire, for a few pence, boxes containing cans of film along with projectors and film cameras that no one wanted. As a projectionist, and a collector the well-to-do were only too keen of offload their outdated technology to someone who might appreciate it. Because much of the equipment, some of it the best and most expensive available at the time was being replaced with modern recorders and cameras, what Terry was able to acquire was often in perfect working order. 

All film was stored and catalogued according to content and title and period. The subject matter of the material was typically family celebrations and holidays, but also public events like carnivals and sports. Terry had little interest in the people appearing in these films, but the buildings, the fashions and especially the vehicles were a joy. Those that could afford early cinematography could usually afford expensive cars. Terry, like most boys had shared an interest in cars, and to see them in their own time was a fascination.

It is the way of things that families sometimes disintegrate into their individual parts and so it was with the Marshals. Terry, once he had become senior projectionist, found a flat big enough to store his collection and just enough room left to invite a girlfriend to stay over. Being able to offer a free pass at the cinema, if there were any available, to a prospective girlfriend was definitely an advantage. Meanwhile his parents left to themselves found they had little in common now their son had left home and separated. Terry’s bond was strong with his mother so it was not unusual to see them together in the village. The father’s appearance however was rare.

Whenever a new James Bond film was released, Terry’s popularity among the girls blossomed, all except for one. This intrigued Terry as he was most fond of Gill and was disappointed that she couldn’t be seduced with offers of a free pass and a drink afterwards. When he found that she didn’t care for so called ‘action’ movies and much preferred Ealing comedies and particularly Brief Encounter, or It’s a Wonderful Life, Terry almost proposed on the spot.

She also admitted to a fascination for ‘home-mades’ and it was while they were watching one of those that Gill pointed out a building in the background as a carnival procession was being filmed. The building was local to where both Terry and Gill had grown up. There were tractors pulling decorated carnival floats and several vintage cars which Terry had previously catalogued without recognising the locality. There were children waving flags by the side of the road as the camera followed a Riley Brooklands, one of Terry’s favourite cars. A small group came into focus, a mother with a toddler in a push chair and by her side a tall man in a dark suit with an arm round her, and holding another child in his arms. 

‘What is it?’ Gill said, having noticed Terry’s shocked expression.

‘That . . . that cover. The cover over the child in the push chair, and the woman, the mother, she’s my mom.’

‘No way, that can’t be, and your dad.’

‘No, that’s not my dad.’

‘It must be,’said Gill, ‘just younger, holding your brother.’

‘I don’t have a brother.’

Listen to Village Tales and other short stories from the HONKEYMOON CAFE

 on Spotify, Anchor FM, Apple Podcasts, RadioPublic, Pocket Casts, 

Google Podcasts, Breaker and other platforms. 

Written and read by Barkley Johnson.