One unexpected side effect of our enforced sojourn in Bosham has been an increase in the amount of cycling that we are doing. Being as close as we are to the harbour has prompted us to clamber aboard the bikes and cycle down to the waterside in the evenings. The proximity of the odd public house to the water's edge is purely coincidental.
It was on one of these outings that we spotted a poster for an outdoor screening of South Pacific by the Chidham and Hambrook Film Society. Having recently enjoyed some outdoor theatre at West Dean Gardens, this seemed like a fantastic opportunity. Unfortunately, our attempts to drum up interest amongst friends met with failure, though this was more due to the short notice of our invitation than any lack of enthusiasm on their part.
So, Marks and Spencer received the benefit of our investment in a hearty picnic, complete with a very nice bottle of wine, and plans were laid for the evening's excursion.
In keeping with the recent preference for two wheels as a mode of transport, we decided to cycle the two and a half miles or so to the Old House at Home in Chidham; or at least the field next to it where the large screen had been erected. This entailed some slightly precarious baggage arrangement as we needed to transport two camping chairs as well as the picnic to the site.
So, with two chairs slung over my shoulder, thus leaving my wife to shoulder the more manageable burden of the picnic rucksack, we set off for the nearby village. Cycling there was a pleasant experience on a balmy summer's evening with the sun still projecting its warming rays on, what is almost literally, this corner of West Sussex.
We had decided that, as the poster stated that the film began at 8pm, we had better be there before 7.30. This proved to be a slightly unnecessary precaution. Having garnered a very decent view and consumed the picnic, including the wine, we sat back and awaited the start of the film, slightly confused that people still seemed to be arriving at 8pm. The appointed hour passed, then another fifteen minutes, so we asked one of the organisers when the film would start. He answered that it needed to be dark enough to see the screen (of course) so it would be at least another forty-five minutes. Having received this bombshell, the only thing to do was to repair to the handily-situated Old House at Home in order to sample a pint of Sharp's Doom Bar and shelter from what was becoming a slightly nippy wind.
Asking the delightful elderly couple who had settled down next to us to look after our chairs, we trudged over the road to the pub. The simple pleasure of sitting outside a country pub just chatting and watching the world go by is one that is all too easily forgotten. We've vowed to do more of it even after our house recovers from its reconstructive surgery.
Having taken heed of the ever-appreciated counsel of my beloved to drink no more, we returned to the field. The attendance had now swelled to a very healthy two hundred or so, all perched on either their own camping chairs or the wooden ones supplied by the organisers. A cheer arose as the music, which had ranged from the sublime to the Rolling Stones, ceased and one of the organisers announced that the film was about to commence.
The dramatic drop in temperature brought on by the sun's reluctant descent necessitated the addition of a couple of extra layers of clothing plus a blanket draped over both of our knees. This rather comforting tableau of our future dotage completed, we settled down to watch the film, which I had seen many, many years ago and my wife had never seen.
Looking at the acting from a twenty-first century perspective, one would have to say that Messrs Rodgers and Hammerstein had obviously ordered a large slice of ham to go with their musical and lyrical feast. However, this did not detract from the enthusiasm of the crowd as they sang along to the early numbers including the rip-roaring Nothing Like a Dame.
The enjoyable silliness of the plot continued with a few jars to the contemporary viewing sensibility. Whether it be ageism, racism, sexism, hints of pederasty or homo-erotic imagery; it's all too easy for the viewer in 2011 to see it. Whether this is as much a commentary on over-sensitive current mores as it is on those of 1958 is a matter for conjecture. In some ways, the skill of Hollywood directors of that era is to be admired. The viewer is left in no doubt about many of the, in 1950s Hollywood, taboo activities which have taken place yet the censor is left with little ground for objection to the finished article. One also has to remember that the war was still an all-too vivid memory at the time of the film's production. The, admittedly superficial, exploration of the theme of duty to country versus love of a woman would have been something that many film goers of the day could have identified with. Most of all though, the film is a showcase for the lyrical and musical dexterity of Rodgers and Hammerstein. Tunes such as Nothing Like a Dame, Some Enchanted Evening, Happy Talk and I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Outta My Hair transcend the film itself.
As the evening progressed, and the air began to chill still further, and perhaps the quality of the musical numbers waned, the singalongs became less frequent as the audience reserved their energy for combating the cold. Even I, known as I am for not feeling the cold, began to shiver and fidget. So it was with some relief that Rossano Brazzi reappeared in his garden to hugs and kisses all round from his children and Mitzi Gaynor, concluding proceedings with the requisite Hollywood happy ending.
A mildly terrifying, for the first dark and narrow mile anyway, cycle home then ensued but all in all it was a fantastic event for which the organisers deserve full credit. For people such as these, David Cameron's so-called Big Society has always existed. They give of their time freely and copiously in order to organise events for others to enjoy. It was also encouraging to see a smattering of younger people at the event along with the, perhaps to be expected, older attendees. If Chidham and Hambrook should decide to repeat this event next year then we'll be signing up like a shot.
In a couple of weeks' time it's West Side Story in Priory Park as part of the Chichester International Film Festival. We'll be there... with ski-jackets and thermals.
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