My childhood cinema, the Vue Shepherd’s Bush, closed its doors for the final time on Tuesday, June 30th. In one sense, it was a sudden closure, with Vue themselves not even acknowledging it publicly until the very last day. In another sense, it had been coming for a while; Vue’s other site across the way in Westfield was newer and fancier, and there was only so much time that this one could provide actual competition. It was where my love for cinema truly began to flourish, though, and it’ll always have a very special place in my heart for exactly that reason.
The cinema opened as the Warner Village Shepherd’s Bush on December 7th, 2001, with Robbie Williams of all people being present at the grand opening, but the first chapter of my story here doesn’t start until the summer of 2004. I wish I could say that my first film here was a certified classic, something that blew my tiny little mind… but it wasn’t. It was the live-action Thunderbirds, and I hated it. A weaker child might have given up on the medium completely if presented with such a colossal stinker so early in their movie watching career. But something about this cinema must’ve got little Tom hooked in spite of it all, and it very quickly became our cinema of choice. It wasn’t the first place I was ever taken to see a movie, but it was where I really fell in love with them.
When the Westfield cinema opened in 2010, Vue could so easily have closed this one then and there. Instead, it carved out its own niche; while Westfield was where you went for the big event releases, Shepherd’s Bush became a haven for arthouse cinema. So many lesser-known and international films really got their chance to shine here, showing throughout the day as opposed to the current multiplex trend of only programming them at awkward times and acting surprised when nobody wants to watch them. It would quite often be the only Vue in the UK, and one of the only cinemas generally, to be showing a particular film. Of course, if that sort of film wasn’t your bag, then this cinema was still cheaper, and usually much quieter, than Westfield. Furthermore, if you were a turbo nerd like I was, they also kept their 35mm projectors around for ages – I was given a tour of the booth for my 12th birthday, and I was like a kid in a candy store!
Eventually, though, most of those benefits quietly went away. The cinemas became the same price, and with the rise of digital projection and the fact of it gaining a load more screens, Westfield got all the arthouse programming. On the surface, the only thing Shepherd’s Bush still had going for it was how quiet it usually was. And yet I’d still find myself here so often instead of Westfield, because coming back was so damn comforting. Between the general colour scheme, the enormous neon numbers and the slightly strange conic door handles, walking into the screen hallway just felt like an old friend giving you an enormous warm hug. It may have become even less glamorous in the face of the late-2010s luxury cinema boom, but the cinema that had made me fall in love with the movies as a child still filled me with excitement to watch them as an adult.
I’ll be the first person to admit that, in its later years, the cinema was a bit of a dump. It pretty desperately needed some TLC but hardly got any compared to Westfield, and that really showed. In hindsight, I probably should’ve seen its closure coming because of that. But I was still completely blindsided by the news, which I only learned literally the night before its last day open. I’d have been absolutely gutted if I hadn’t been able to make one last trip to the place that made me a movie lover. And as I took my final stroll around the screen hallway, before the credits rolled on my final screening (Jackass: Best & Last, appropriately) it was hard not to get emotional. In a cinematic landscape filled with needless experience innovation and luxury dick-measuring contests between the major chains, the simplicity of coming here was somehow a breath of fresh air. You just turned up, sat down and watched the movie, and that was all you needed. A lot of the multiplexes have upgraded their seating and other such things, sure, but it feels like that’s coming at the expense of their soul and personality. When I compare the vibrant, striking look of this cinema to how bland some of the fancy ones have become, I just feel a bit depressed!
So farewell, then, Vue Shepherd’s Bush. Your time had probably come, and I’ll miss you terribly, but you served me well for 22 years of moviegoing, and I’ll be forever grateful for what you contributed to my life.
