Sometimes you get some news that just sucks all the air out of you, like being punched hard in the stomach. That was exactly my reaction on hearing the unexpected announcement that The Projector, Singapore’s only independent cinema, had gone into voluntary, and immediate, liquidation a couple of weeks ago. Having racked up debts of over one million Singapore dollars, they were forced to concede economic defeat after 11 wonderful years—pretty much the same time I’ve been in Singapore.
My reaction might sound a little melodramatic. Is it not a little odd to care so much about a cinema, especially in an era when the bottom has dropped out of the movie-going market? In this busy world, where time is precious and we can stream pretty much any movie we want from the comfort of our own home, why pay to go watch a three-hour, black-and-white arthouse movie about depression—and in a slightly seedy mall, sitting on a chair that’s not much comfier than a school bench?
There’s been plenty of conversation along these lines following the cinema’s sudden and unexpected closure. But of course, that completely misses the point. The Projector was so much more than somewhere to watch indie movies. It was the place where society’s outliers could find a home to express themselves and their views. Poetry, storytelling nights, drag shows, dance, music, charity and community events, stand-up comedy, even wrestling, all found a welcoming and accessible home at The Projector.
The original Intermission Bar at Golden Mile ©️ Nick Measures
Cultural Differences
For me, and it seems many others, it was a symbol of choice, an opportunity to explore the wider world, a safe place where it was okay to be different: to have different tastes, different interests, and different views, without feeling weird or guilty about it. That sounds overblown, but this is Singapore. These kinds of venues are a rarity in this buttoned-down country, where fitting in and following the crowd is an oft-repeated edict that comes straight from the top.
Indeed, the oversized influence that The Projector had on the country’s cultural landscape has been made clear in the plentiful posts and column inches that have been dedicated to bemoaning its closure. In fact, so much has been written already that I almost didn’t bothering posting this — especially as most articles were more timely (after all this did happen two weeks ago) and have made very similar points, in much more powerful and concise ways, than I am doing here.
Still, I felt inspired to add my thoughts after The Projector's name was referenced unexpectedly at another cultural outlier last night: the Singapore Pro Wrestling (SPW). As the crowd was queuing for beers and shuffling to their ringside seats before the first bout, the compere kicked things off by stating how sorry he was to hear of The Projector's closure, and the fact it was just the latest independent venue forced to shut its doors in recent years.
Against that reality he underlined how grateful the SPW team were that we kept turning up to support their wonderfully bizarre spectacle (definitely the subject of a future post). In other words, how vital it is that enough people are willing to buy a seat and make it economically possible for them to keep their own little slice of weirdness going despite all the current challenges.
As The Projector's debts show, the reality is such places and events can only keep surviving if we all make the effort to get out there and support them — both physically and financially. If not, then we will turn around in a few years and find there is nothing but cookie-cutter malls, stadium shows, and bland Netflix series to entertain us.
The entrance to the Projector at Riverside Point ©️ Simon Tyers
A Love Story
Anyway, this post was not intended to be a diatribe against cultural hegemony and today’s harsh economic constraints, but a love song to a gem that I will miss very, very much. In fact, it really is difficult to overstate what a central role it has played in so many of my favourite memories of Singapore, so I just wanted to share a few (for my own personal record if nothing else).
I fell in love with the place from my first visit to the original location at the Golden Mile Complex—a shady, rundown high-rise tower populated by Thai restaurants, KTV bars, tour operators, amulet shops, and dodgy-looking massage parlours. Access was via two slightly shaky lifts which you entered from the street, while passengers sat on their suitcases waiting to board cheap buses to Malaysia and Thailand. Inside the lift were the first hints of what was to come—dog-eared posters and programmes advertising coming retrospectives and cultural film festivals.
I genuinely can’t remember my first movie, no doubt it was a re-run of some cult classic, but I do remember stepping out of the lift and into the bar area. Kitted out with retro tiling, mismatched retro furniture, and old-school indie posters, I knew instantly that this was a place I’d be spending a lot of time.
There have been countless visits back to Golden Mile since then, as well as multiple trips to the different pop-up extensions of the Projector brand at Cathay, Cineleisure, and most memorably an old Chinese nightclub at Riverside Point. While every venue had its own unique feel, they were all tied together by their reproduction of the Intermission Bar, the same slightly ramshackle décor, cool movie posters, and welcoming atmosphere. This continuity was also found in the screenings, where every film was preceded by a star turn from Turkish Luke Skywalker warning you to put your phone away or risk being karate-chopped into a million pieces.
Individual highlights include watching one of my all-time favourite bands Khruangbin from a bean bag that put me at crotch level with the lead guitarist. Dancing to a Singaporean Afro-funk group where my friend and I were the only ones who didn’t personally know the horn section. Or just drinking in the views of the city skyline from the rooftop when the VW camper bar was still operating.
Then there are the films: Giggling uncontrollably at the mad silliness of Cocaine Bear after one to many lagers, being baffled or the umpteenth time by Akira, watching the all four hours of Kill Bill wearing headphones on a dance floor, and finally getting the chance to watch Apocalypse Now on the big screen. And then more recently, and probably best of all there was the chance The Projector offered for me to introduce classics like Seven Samurai, Godzilla and 2001: A Space Odyssey to my teenage boys for their first times. We had many more visits already planned as well.
My last film, seen only a week before its unexpected closure, was fittingly The Grand Budapest Hotel. A film with its own distinctive style, a wicked sense of humour, an interesting story to tell, and huge ambitions. The parallels were obvious.
I could go on and on, but I will just end by saying thank you to everyone who was ever involved with The Projector. From the always friendly bar staff, to the writers of their wonderfully witty weekly newsletters, thank you. Thank you for having the courage to try and row against the tide, for daring to be different, and most importantly for offering people a safe and happy place to escape from normal life.
Here's hoping this isn’t really the end of a special era but just an extended intermission, because every city needs a place like the Projector.
The suitably weird and retro light fitting at the top of the spiral staircase.