Secret Film Society - SE.01 EP.01 Whistle Down the Wind, Downham

I'm not actually a person who likes surprises. I like to know what I'm doing, and where and when I'm doing it - facts which I carefully record in an old-school diary, using my very best writing. So on the face of it, Manchester's new Secret Film Society isn't really for me, packed as it is full of the unknown; essentially, you pay for your ticket knowing only that you're going somewhere to watch a film and get fed. My friends are nothing if not persuasive, however, and thus I found myself loitering in central Manchester at 10.30am last Sunday, waiting for a coach to a mystery location and clutching a slip of paper instructing me (under pains of confiscation and - presumably - public shaming) to turn my phone to airplane mode. Scary days indeed.

Actually, it was all pretty exciting. The coach - full of excitable people with the air of a class released from lessons to go on a school trip - travelled north and it soon became clear that we were heading for Pendle Hill, famous in Lancashire and beyond for its witchy associations (and, hopefully, an ability to screen a film and provide a jolly good tea). More specifically, we were heading for the pretty village of Downham and its cute, bunting-clad village hall, where we parked up before being whisked off for a walk by a man wearing a top hat and cravat. This being England in June, it was quite cold and a bit rainy, but if anything this added to the atmosphere as we trailed after our extravagantly attired guide and listened to tales of witchcraft and persecution, all the while secretly wondering what we'd be having for lunch.

Lunch turned out to be splendid, all the more so as we felt we'd earned it after an hour and a half of tramping through long, damp grass. The caterers were your friends and mine, Bangers and Bacon, always ones to be relied on when one is is hungry and thus a very welcome sight indeed. The starter (bacon and chicken liver pate, ham hock terrine and bread) and main (giant Yorkshire pudding filled with Lancashire hotpot) were served before the film, at tables set up in convivial rows in front of the big screen, which meant that the only requirement to leave one's seat for the entire afternoon was to visit the bar where - astonishingly - wine was £2 a glass. The film, if you hadn't guessed by now, was the 60s classic Whistle Down the Wind, filmed in Downham and starring a dodgy-fringed Hayley Mills as a little girl who thinks Jesus is living in the family barn. This was enjoyable fare, with a pause partway through for apple crumble and custard - to be honest, I think most people were so full and tired and content by this point that it hardly mattered what the film was (that's what you get with a £2 bar).

Any downsides? Well, it sounds petty but the coach was quite spectacularly uncomfortable - I understand that it's tricky to fit 50-ish people on one vehicle but the seats were child-sized at best and necessitated some uncomfortable bottom overhanging that was neither dignified nor attractive. This can no doubt be addressed for next time though, and ultimately I don't think you can be too critical of a day that includes a coach trip, a walk in the rain, a film, a high quality three course lunch, a load of wine, and the opportunity for your best friend to repeatedly call you a witch. I'm still not a fan of surprises...but don't be too surprised if you see me again at Secret Film Society.

- Find out more about the Secret Film Society (although they're quite mean, and won't tell you everything, no matter how many times you ask them) via their Facebook page here. I was invited along as a guest but only asked to provide honest feedback.

New Guest Blog Post, in which the Erstwhile Mr Liz Gets Groovy with Jay and Silent Bob

Right - I know you've not seen him for a while, but fear not - the erstwhile Mr Liz is back, for one night only, and undertaking an important cinema assignmennt...

It's been virtually twenty years since Kevin Smith’s directorial debut Clerks introduced the world to Jay and Silent Bob – hereon in called J&SB. The stoner slackers have since gone on to be an American cultural phenomenon appearing to a greater or lesser extent in a further six films, an animated TV series, various music videos and a series of comic books.

After a near eight year gap Kevin Smith and Jason Mewes return the characters to the screen in 'Jay and Silent Bob's Super Groovy Cartoon Movie', based upon a short story written to accompany the 2001 film Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back (J&SBSB). It features Jason Mewes’ debut as a producer in a film that he arbitrarily decided would have a budget of $69,000 not so much because he thought that’s how much it would cost, nope just because he thought it would be a funny number to make a film with.

In the new film, that successfully riffs on a number of classics such as Tim Burton’s Batman, Back To The Future and Star Wars, the lovable stoners are about to take part in a Captain America style medical experiment in order to gain the necessary super powers to become crime fighters in real life. Through an aversion to needles they back out at the last minute and instead buy some lottery scratch cards. One ten million dollar lottery pay-out later our dysfunctional duo set themselves up as crime fighters protecting Redbank, New Jersey aided and abetted by author Neil Gaiman’s turn as Albert the man servant.

As any comic book aficionado knows, every superhero needs a collection of supervillains to pit their wits against and J&SB do not disappoint in this respect. Here the potty-mouthed principals of the picture have to deal with such evil doers as Cock Knocker, Dick Head the Teutonic Todger (Ralph Garman channelling his inner Arnold), Lipstick Lesbian, Newsgroup and The Diddler. Many of the cast will be familiar to fans of Kevin Smith’s previous films and includes such luminaries as Eliza Dushku (J&SBSB), Smith’s real life partner Jennifer Schwalbach-Smith (J&SBSB, Zack & Miri) and Stan Lee (Mallrats) along with a few additional unexpected cameos, including a welcome return from someone who ‘wasn’t even supposed to be here today’.

Incidentally, ensure that you watch until the very end of the credits for a special surprise.

But the film was only half of the evening.

Following on was a live recording of the SModcast.com podcast ‘Jay & Silent Bob Get Old’ alongside a question and answer session with Kevin and Jason. The podcast was primarily a discussion about recent events combined with questions from the audience allowing Kevin and Jason to express opinions on pretty much any subject you could care to name in an entertaining and often profanity strewn manner. I should state that Kevin is most definitely not as silent as the ‘Silent Bob’ moniker would suggest and the pair waxed lyrical on all subjects ranging from a flatulence strewn anecdote of a five hour journey up the M6 from Bristol to Jason Mewes activities on a Parisian hotel balcony with his wife via Kevin pushing the boundaries of a non-disclosure agreement he signed during a recent trip to the set of the new Star Wars film.

Jason Mewes acts as a foil to Smith’s discussions and often had the audience in hysterics with his actions as much as his words while also offering moments of extreme intimacy when discussing his well-publicised battles with drugs and alcohol (at the time of writing he’s been clean and sober for four years and one day) along with the support that Kevin has given him in overcoming his demons.

Generally you’ll get Kevin Smith or you won’t. Personally I’ve always felt that I have a lot in common with him, after all we’re approximately the same age, have a great love of comic books, have both worked in convenience stores at various times in our past and the Star Wars Trilogy remains a great part of our lives. OK, so maybe I was a bigger fan of Judge Dredd than Batman but that can probably be excused especially as at one stage in the evening Kevin Smith sang about what he would have been like had he been a Mancunian in the early 80’s rather than a New Jersey native. Although it must be said his accent, at this point, owed more to Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins than any Mancunian I’ve ever heard.

So overall a fantastic evening and I’ll certainly be first in line to buy the film once released in the UK later this year, but I do accept that his humour may not be to everyone’s taste. If you get the opportunity to see them live or on one on the multitude of DVD releases in this format then I whole heartedly suggest that you take it, however for those of you who may be a touch unsure you may want to try downloading some of his free podcasts first. You may end up loving him, you may end up hating him, but you certainly can’t ignore him.

More information on Kevin, Jason and the rest of the ViewAskew team is available on http://viewaskew.com/ or you could just follow their twitter feeds @ThatKevinSmith and @JayMewes for film updates and details of their latest podcasts.

The Woman in Black: Local Girl Not, Ahem, Frightened AT ALL

Now obviously, with hindsight, I should have known better. Some years ago, I read what I thought was a fairly innocuous little book called The Woman in Black, a mildly spooky tale by a writer - Susan Hill - whom I much admire. And then I saw it last year at The Lowry, where my smugly confident "yep! I HAVE read the book, for I am a clever literary type" face was swiftly replaced by an "oh my God, this is THE MOST FRIGHTENING TWO HOURS OF MY LIFE" expression; indeed, had there not been a break for an ice-cream and some gin, I may not have survived the experience at all.

So, clearly any person of even limited intelligence would know to avoid the new film version like the plague, particularly if that person is prone to jump a little at everyday, non-frightening occurrences such as phones ringing and think-they're-funny husbands occasionally saying "boo". But then - how scary could it be? It's a 12A for goodness sake! It has Harry Potter in it! Surely at the first sign of trouble, he can simply wave his pocket wand and everything will be OK again!

Um, well, no actually; the film turns out to be every bit as terrifying as the stage show. Harry (sorry, DANIEL) plays Arthur Kipps, a solicitor sent to Crythin Gifford (definitely a local place for local people) to sort out the papers of the recently deceased Alice Drablow. As old ladies in this kind of story are prone to do, she lived in a big old creepy house full of things that go bump in the night (or indeed at any time of day); even better, Eel Marsh House can only be accessed by crossing a causeway that often becomes completely submerged, leaving the house cut off.

So why on earth would you go there? Simple answer is, you wouldn't, and as baby-faced Kipps innocently crosses the causeway you feel like climbing aboard your chair and shouting "no! Don't you see! It's the equivalent of the teenager going into the cellar in some other horror film - stay away!" Sadly, Kipps cannot hear us, and even if he could he has no choice - he has a young son to support, and therefore cannot simply give up the house as a bad job and return to that-there London like all the villagers want him to do. Children are dying in the village in a variety of horrific ways, and the locals have no doubt that Kipps' visits to Eel Marsh House are to blame. The plucky young wizard (sorry, solicitor) must uncover the story of the mysterious figure who haunts the house (clue: it's a lady with a penchant for dark-coloured clothes) before his own frankly adorable son arrives and shares the same fate.

It's a simple story, but then the best ghost stories always are, and director James Watkins has squeezed every last ounce of spookiness from it for this film version. The middle third of the film is quite simply majestic in its use of pretty much every single horror technique in the book: thus we get fog, locked doors that mysteriously open, creepy mechanical toys who randomly decide to start bashing their cymbals together, odd reflections in mirrors...and the rocking chair - oh, the rocking chair...

If this sounds a bit cliched, well that's because it is, but it doesn't stop it from being properly, edge-of-your-seat scary - if you can look out of a window at night without palpitations during the week after seeing it, then you're made of sterner stuff than I. There are a couple of weak links: Daniel Radcliffe is not entirely convincing in a role that requires him to play an adult with responsibilities of his own, and writer Jane Goldman's new ending will not please everyone - although I quite liked it, feeling she'd made the story her own whilst respecting the spirit (no pun intended) of the original.

Oh, and one final thought - is it just me, or is Ciaran Hinds a funny colour in this movie? I can't help thinking that DI Anna Travis would never have fallen for his gruff, gnarly charms in Above Suspicion had he apparently been painted such a deep shade of mahogany. Anyway, do go and see The Woman in Black - just get someone else to hold your popcorn for you...

Robert Pattinson Makes Respectable Ladies GASP ALOUD in Water for Elephants Shock

Now, those who know me will be aware that whilst not exactly in my dotage, nor am I in the first flush of youth. I have an embarrassing love of early 90s dance music, for example, that dates me horribly, and sometimes I go through recipe magazines, cutting out things that look nice and saving them in a special clippings folder. In the summer I often go to bed while it's still light outside, and I have taken to annoying the students I teach by noisily reminiscing about how I got a full grant and free tuition at university.

So, as a fully-fledged grown-up, I was understandably a little nervous about the film version of Water For Elephants, currently showing at Parrswood in Didsbury. For one thing, I love Sara Gruen's book very much indeed, and as a senior person I am entitled to exclaim crossly about new-fangled TV and film versions of cherished novels never, ever being as good as the book. Secondly, I had become aware that the prize role of Jacob Jankowski had gone to Robert Pattinson, a youth of whom I had only a very vague idea - a passing notion of a twelve-year-old boy who, in my head, looked a little like Jedward, only singular.

It is with some reluctance, then, that I note the following:

- The film is very good indeed. Yes, Reese Witherspoon seems a little old to play Marlena, and her chin - if possible - is pointier than ever; I swear you could get hold of it and snap it right off if you were so-minded. But Christoph Waltz is on mighty form as psycho animal-beater August, sporting the most cruelly seductive smirk yet seen this decade as he veers from charmer to devil in the blink of an eye.

- An elephant would clearly make an excellent pet; I have begun a campaign to be allowed one of my own, to be named Rosie and trained to do tricks, only in English not Polish. Cat and husband both currently ambivalent about potential advantages of this as-yet imaginary pet.

- I have developed an unseemly and inappropriate crush on Robert Pattinson. It turns out he is not a pasty-faced, low-trousered teen at all, but a proper man who can look both vulnerable and as if about to combust with internal hotness whilst wearing a waistcoat. He is simply perfect for the role; indeed, the sight of a recently-beaten, smouldering, glowering Pattinson beginning a vengeful trek down a train track, at night, with emotive music, prompted audible gasps of wonder from an army of thirty-something ladies as their popcorn slipped to the floor, unnoticed.

Despite all of this, though, I am pleased to confirm that I am still old and miserable - I made sure that I rolled my eyes with particular gusto at the lengthy queue of people hoping to see Pirates of the Caribbean 12: Dear God, This Time It's Desperate that we passed on the way out.

The King's Speech at The Savoy, Heaton Moor

It's a sad fact that the age of the local "fleapit" cinema is almost at an end. I am as much to blame for this as anyone - as soon as the nice new shiny Parrswood complex opened in Didsbury I turned my back on Withington's Cine City, ruthlessly ditching almost a hundred years of history in favour of a big bland monolith with comfy seats and an enticing range of Ben and Jerry's. And then Cine City closed and I felt bad.

But then last night, a chance to make some kind of reparation - and spend an evening with Colin Firth into the bargain. The Savoy in Heaton Moor has been under threat for the last few years, limping defiantly on in the face of its bigger, brasher neighbour, and all the more charming for it. My friend is a regular there, and takes a perverse kind of pleasure in the fact that she is sometimes the only one there, lounging in one of the surprisingly comfortable Honey Monster befurred chairs as the latest blockbuster plays exclusively for her on the medium silver screen.

This is how our conversation went on Wednesday afternoon.

Me: What time shall I pick you up, dear friend? I understand Oscar favourite The King's Speech starts at 8pm.
Misguided friend: Yes. Pick me up at 7.45 please.
Me: Won't there be a queue?
MF: No.
Me: Are you sure? Is this not the most viewed film in recent cinema history?
MF: Well, OK then, 7.40. But you're wrong. Nobody ever goes to The Savoy.

Hmmm, nobody that is except THE WHOLE OF HEATON MOOR. When we finally managed to park, approximately three miles away (MF: I think it is Brownies tonight as well), we pottered up the cinema at about five to eight to find a queue the length of the Great Wall of China, a line of assorted pensioners and well-heeled Heaton Moorites that could actually be seen from space. What could we do? We joined it, convinced that we would arrive at the counter to have the grille pulled down just as we got there (although, to be fair, Mr Liz was rather hoping this would happen - evening watching soppy "girl's" film vs drinking beer at £2.02 a pint in the Moor Top opposite = no contest in boyland.)

Of course it was all fine, although we did end up so near the back that both ladies had to physically lean forward and squint a little when required to read textual information on screen. The film itself probably requires little comment as you've more than likely seen it by now, so I will summarise my thoughts as briefly as I can:

- Colin Firth = marvellous, Oscar perhaps?
- Helena B-C = scarily convincing as Queen Mum, Oscar perhaps?
- Geoffrey Rush = touching, funny, Oscar perhaps?
- Plot = stirring, patriotic, moving (many surreptitious sniffles to be heard as lovely Colin reveals sad childhood) and funny - Colin says bum, tits AND willy *titters*
- Guy Pearce = normally lovely Antipodean in the one piece of bum (see Colin? I can do it too) casting - seriously miscast as rogue elder brother. No Oscar for you, Guy
- Cornetto = unavailable due to large queue

So after a fine night (the very best sort, where you have had a nice time but are in bed by 11) resolutions have been made to support The Savoy in all it does; and with tickets at just £4.80, there's plenty of money left to have a post-cinema drink at somewhere just a little more salubrious than the Moor Top...

The Social Network AND Dinner at The Didsbury: Unfeasibly Good Tuesday Night Out

I have found a definite advantage to being a greedy-faced glutton who will eat pretty much anything: it allows you to take advantage of excellent-value set menus across Manchester, in places who will fall over themselves to bring you a succession of seasonal dishes for a ridiculously low price. As the only things - in the world - I dislike are coffee, celery and desiccated coconut, I am fairly safe as far as set menus are concerned: even a coffee dessert sent by the devil himself can be safely dealt with by accompanying friends or husbands.

After the recent triumphs of The Mark Addy's Gourmet Evening, the latest local venue to offer an exotic taster menu is The Didsbury, always a favourite location but even more alluring when it's Game Taster Night (please insert own joke about being game for anything here, if you really must sink so low.) For a measly £18.99 per head, we scoffed the following:

1. Mini Wild Boar Burger, served with fried egg and chips. Absolutely delicious, although I was rather put off by the drawing of wild boar in the accompanying menu, who smiled sadly at me throughout my consumption of what was presumably him or a close relative.

2. Grilled Breast of Guinea Fowl, served with chorizo, chilli jam and sweet potato mash. I would like to point out that this course clearly contains one of my five-a-day, thereby negating any potential downside of eating such a large meal.

3. Roasted Pheasant Breast, stuffed with apple, pork and honey, wrapped in bacon and served with coq au vin sauce. This was my husband's favourite course: he went a bit like Homer Simpson does when he goes "aaaggggghhhhuuuugggggg" and starts drooling.

4. Wild Venison Medallions, served with braised red cabbage and a cherry and red wine sauce (red food = healthy, I know this for an actual fact). This was MY favourite course.

5. Apple, Cinnamon and Sultana Crumble. I confidently said I didn't want this. I ate every last scrap and then complained all the way home about having eaten too much (humour me - at least TRY to look surprised.)

The menu also includes a glass of wine, which I sipped very slowly and made last for five whole courses in a bid to prove that I can be restrained if necessary on a school night. The menu is available again on Monday 25th and Tuesday 26th October, and if I weren't in Edinburgh I would definitely go again. You can book by ringing The Didsbury on 0161 445 5389.

Many thanks to Paul, the lovely gaffer at The Didsbury for letting us sneak in pretty late on in the evening for our repast, for in an unprecedented double bill of Tuesday night action we had snaffled some free tickets for The Social Network at Cineworld. I did some predictable chuntering about how I was expecting a dreary couple of hours watching a bunch of IT geeks doing dull things with computers, but I take it all back. This film is brilliant - superbly acted, full of fantastic pantomime villain-type characters and with a sparkling script from the mighty Aaron Sorkin. I got home and posted a facebook status about the film about facebook I'd just watched, and fell blissfully asleep full of game and my own cleverness.