Charlie and Philip walk together down the cobbled street, the abandoned shops covered in dust and mildew; if one listens carefully a variety of creatures can be heard nestling inside them.
Charlie is playfully steering a battered green wheelbarrow.
‘How have you not seen it?’ Philip asks.
‘I don’t know, my parents weren’t really into gangster pictures. It was always more Indiana Jones, Star Wars, The Goonies. Adventure stories you know?’
The wheelbarrow bounces and clangs against a rough patch of cobblestones.
‘We have to find it. I’m sure everyone will want to watch it, it’s a long flick, but it’s a classic! Someone must have it here.’ Philip replies.
‘There’s only two theatres we’ve not checked here. The odds are stacked against you. You could try a personal collection?’ Charlie replies.
‘Nope. No way. The quality is never as good as celluloid. That little ripple as the roll springs to life vs the click of a button. No romanticism in it.’
Charlie laughs which echoes around the street.
They reach the first theatre and open up the front door. A strong smell of damp and rotten food attacks their senses.
‘Bloody hell, must be a leak somewhere.’
‘Better not have affected the prints.’ Philip says.
They walk towards the auditorium and push the doors open. It’s a sloped room, with a red carpet and black suede seats, the projection screen at the front of the room has a large rip diagonally and above it the roof has caved in.
‘That’ll be it.’ Charlie says.
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