The power button was broken. And with that, CUFA’s dream of weekly film screenings in the comfortable TV room of Christ’s college seemed to have suddenly crumbled. Perhaps out of pity for a well-fought battle, the audience of our first screening of the term kindly agreed to watch Risky Buisness (1983) on our president’s laptop instead. Without a single person leaving by the end, our spirits were at least not completely destroyed.

Come second week, however, to say that we were off to a truly bad start would be an understatement. This time, not only was the TV not fixed, but the audiences proposed that we reschedule the screening of Bergman Island (2021) instead of settling for the laptop yet again. Left alone in that room, suffocated by the air of disappointment, the future of CUFA’s inherited tradition looks bleak to my eyes.

Things were to change, however, once Christ’s had been abandoned in our quest for a room that could finally perform the ‘ritual’ of crowd viewing. I was adamant that we push through; it’s not just a weekly movie screening – it is a chance for people to experience the magic of film together. A magic, I believe, that cannot be felt watching a film alone. With a room full of people, laughter, gasps, screams and all spectrum of noises can truly enhance the immersive experience; the film, in that room, means something. We let the spirit of it flow through our body: a sacred ritual now shared by kindred souls.

“Watching a film together is a magic, I believe, that cannot be felt watching a film alone”

Finally, after half an hour of meddling with the projector, my prayer was answered. The screen came alive with the ever-flowing grass of Tarkovsky’s Mirror (1975), enchanting the room into overjoyed silence. Our first successful screening was 108 minutes of pure silence. Silence of reverence, perhaps? That is the most common reason people tend to compare movie viewing to a religious experience. However, especially with a more unconventional film, silence can mean many things.

The light from my little doomscrolling device was not perceptible to the others in the room, but shame hung over my heart all the same; lessened only by the fact that a few other people seem to be doing the same sacrilegious act. It seems that, without the commanding presence of the theatre, one feels more at ease to look away and pull themselves back from the movie, breaking its trance. Or perhaps it is the fault of the film that it could not enchant the audience into a trance? I notice that this behaviour continues in our next screening of Grand Theft Hamlet (2024) as well. Silence – and sacrilege.

However, to lay the blame on the film or the audience would be completely unfair. The environment itself, as noted, certainly could be the thing that breaks the religious perception of movie viewing. The fact that no more than five people attend our screening at a time, I believe, certainly adds to the shyness in their expressions. It is much easier to let loose your emotions – to laugh, to cheer, to scream – in a crowd of fifty than five.

Perhaps, then, it is us who have failed to build a church in which this ritual could happen.

After the light comes on, everyone leaves. Despite my best efforts, we have not managed to integrate a discussion about the film into the end of our session. Perhaps it feels too much like a supervision to do so? Most of us here are bored to death of academically dissecting everything we consume. But I just cannot help but think that, without sharing our thoughts and feelings about the film with each other, the whole watching experience becomes so isolated that it might defeat the purpose of a crowd screening altogether.

“There is so much potential in our small, weekly ritual”

Our weekly screening, then, is perhaps a new kind of ritual we must understand and practice at; something different from the orthodox church of the theater, and the private confession of the laptop screen. What should be the consensus between the participants? Should phones and talking be allowed to create a more relaxed environment, or should the screening be taken with utmost seriousness? Which way would allow our lovely audience to enjoy the experience the most? Which way would help the film get through to them best?

To be truthful, I don’t have the answers yet. To ask these questions and persistently compare cinema to religion must already be seen as a bit deranged by the general population. But I believe sincerely that there is so much potential in our small, weekly ritual. A potential to unlock the kind of experience one can never get in any other setting – or at any other time in life. To be here among these historical buildings, in a dimly lit room with like-minded practitioners, ready to embark on “an ancient quest for the common unconscious,” as esteemed director Martin Scorsese puts it.

Mark this as a sacred promise from us to you; learning together, we will perfect this new ritual of ours. Tune in next term, for an experience you will never forget!