The photograph known as St. Andrews, North Street, Fishergate, Women and Children Baiting the Line depicts a group of fisherfolk, predominantly women and children, baiting fishing lines. Found today in the National Galleries Scotland, it was taken by the hugely influential photographers, David Octavius Hill and Robert Adamson, and is estimated to date from 1845. 

Yet, this image would be revisited and reworked throughout the ages and across media. The earliest surviving moving images of St Andrews – dating back to 1916 ­– also depict fisherfolk and show a remarkably similar image, taken from almost exactly the same spot on North Street, of women working baiting lines. By 1916, the image represented a world, and culture, that was now disappearing, but it would be preserved through this film, and the photograph that preceded it. Indeed in 1963, the footage was shown again at the Cinema House to mark its fiftieth anniversary and even today, the images of the Fisherfolk remain enduring images of St Andrews’ past and, a significant marker of the town’s rich photographic heritage. 

Hill and Adamson’s reputation was already established by the time of this photo in 1845. Indeed in 1844 the King of Saxony had his portrait taken at their studio – established a year earlier – while visiting Edinburgh (Caledonian Mercury, 5 August 1844). Their work was informed by the photographic process they adopted, the Calotype. This was an early process developed by William Henry Fox Talbot, which consisted of coating paper in silver iodide. The name derives from the Greek – Kalos and Tupos meaning beautiful and impression – and Hill certainly saw this in the Calotype process: “The rough and unequal texture throughout the paper is the main cause of the calotype failing in details … and this is the very life of it. They look like the imperfect work of man … and not the much diminished perfect work of God” (The National Galleries Scotland. “Hill and Adamson”). We can see photography as an art form starting to develop here.  

When revisiting this 1845 photograph, it is important to remember the careful planning and staging involved. The technical limitations of the time – a long exposure meant that subjects needed to remain still for up to a minute – ensured that Hill and Adamson had to carefully choreograph their image. Many of the decisions made here would appear to be aesthetic choices, for example adding depth by showing the woman holding the child, walking across the street. However, the Fishergate Calotypes can be found in the Series of Calotype Views of St Andrews which Hill and Adamson published in 1846, alongside “straightforward architectural and topographical calotypes of St. Andrews,” which were primarily presented as historical documents (Smith, 1981, 34). 

Graham Smith notes a tension here, as the Fishergate photographs’ foreground people not buildings. He concludes that “it is evident that the calotypes are elaborately composed tableaux rather than casual or journalistic records of the daily activities of the St. Andrews fisher folk” (Smith, 1981, 34). There may also have been a social or political motivation here as well, drawing attention to the squalid conditions of the fisher people. For audiences today, the photographs undoubtedly offer both artistic and historical value.  

The photograph assumes additional significance given Hill and Adamson’s prominent place in the early history of photography. John Adamson, Robert’s older brother, had teamed-up with David Brewster, a physicist and lecturer at the University of St Andrews and in 1841, they had developed the first Calotype portrait in Scotland (made possible as Talbot never patented his process in Scotland). John then taught this technique to his brother. It was around this time that David Brewster introduced Hill, who was struggling with a commissioned painting, to Robert Adamson. Their partnership would significantly advance photography and the visual arts, both globally but also in St Andrews, where their legacy could be felt across the many photography shops that appeared over the next half century. 

Cameron Mumford (2020)

Works Cited: 

“The King of Saxony,” Caledonian Mercury, 5 August 1844. 

Daniel, Malcom, “David Octavius Hill (1802-1870) and Robert Adamson (1821-1848),” The Met Museum, October 2004. 

“Hill and Adamson,” The National Galleries Scotland. 

 “Robert Adamson & David Octavius Hill, St Andrews, North Street, Fishergate, Women and Children Baiting the Line,” The National Galleries Scotland.  

Smith, Graham, “Hill & Adamson at St. Andrews: The Fishergate Calotypes,” The Print Collector’s Newsletter Vol. 12, No. 2 (May-June 1981), 33-37.  

On 4 July 1931, the New Picture House (NPH) announced that their ‘magnificent cinema café’ would soon ‘complete Fife’s Super Cinema’. The ‘tastefully furnished’ café was set to add ‘the finishing touch to a truly super-cinema’; the jewel in its entertaining crown. Indeed, it went on to become much more than this, serving as a community hub and multifunctional venue in its own right. Yet the café had less than auspicious beginnings. 

First mooted in the St Andrews Citizen’s preview of NPH building plans from June 1930, the café was next mentioned in the newspaper’s published report from the Chief Constable of The Works Committee in July. The report noted the need for ‘movable tables and chairs’, yet seemed to sanction the café’s construction. In November, the NPH created a position for a young lady with tearoom experience, and in December, the Citizen’s formal preview of the newly constructed NPH noted its ‘smoking lounge and café’. But, despite these appearances, the café was not accessible to the public until July 1931, a full six months after the NPH opened its doors. 

It seems likely that the café fell at two hurdles: scope and staircases. An article in the Citizen from December 1930 noted the ‘tremendous last minute hustle’ involved in readying the NPH. Whilst the cinema was successfully hustled into existence, with a vigour that ‘the old grey city’ of St Andrews had apparently ‘seldom, if ever, witnessed’, the café did not make it through the initial and ambitious round of construction. The retirement of the NPH manager, Mr Symon, in March 1931 likely contributed to its further delay, and licencing peculiarities for tearooms, along with health and safety concerns, were additional impediments. Only in June 1931 was the tearoom finally approved by the Inspector of Places for Public Refreshment and the Town Council, following extensive debate on the café’s staircase, which directed café goers through the main cinema foyer. As a compromise, the NPH agreed to add an emergency exit directly from the café to the street at a later date.

Having reassured the relevant regulatory bodies, the NPH pulled its café into full swing from mid-July 1931. Their advert boxes in the Citizen show that it was initially marketed as a place to ‘take tea and refreshments’ after ‘the pictures’. It offered accompanying ‘music’ and was open between 2pm and 10pm, Monday to Saturday. It is unclear whether the music was live or recorded, but it was advertised as a café feature until November 1931. Two weeks after the café’s opening, the NPH advertisements emphasised that it was ‘open to the general public as well as patrons’, and within a month its opening hours were extended, from 2pm to 11pm. Evidently, the café had proved attractive enough to public and patrons alike to justify expanded opening times before its first month was through. 

In December 1931, the NPH placed a small advert for ‘a novel xmas party’ and suggested that arrangements could be made to host a gathering at the NPH with ‘tea or supper’. This advert represents the earliest evidence of the NPH’s exploration of the café’s varied utility and potential. Throughout December 1931, other Citizen articles illustrate how the café was otherwise incorporated into the NPH’s wider programme of community activities and commercial ventures. The café was used to entertain ‘residents of the Gibson Hospital and (…) ex-Service men’s widows and children’ after their invitation to a special matinee performance of City Lights, a popular romantic comedy by Charlie Chaplin. The tea was paid for by St Andrews’ Rotary Club but hosted by the café, and it is noteworthy that the occasion marked the NPH’s ‘first anniversary’. The decision to celebrate the NPH’s anniversary indicates the ambitions of NPH management to establish the cinema as a multifunctional and community-focused enterprise. 

In late December, a letter to the Citizen’s editor decorated the NPH with praise for their provision of ‘special facilities’ for Gallipoli veterans during their reunion, and related how the café space would offer a gathering place for the ‘whole party’, including veterans’ wives, to take tea after a showing of Tell England; a drama focused on the Battle of Gallipoli. The veterans’ reunion of 1931 marks the first in a series of NPH events and interactions with past and present military personnel, and likely laid the foundations for its wartime and post-war engagements across subsequent decades.

Despite its meandering path to prominence, the NPH café established itself as an integral feature of the NPH within half a year; facilitating philanthropic efforts that recruited loyal audiences, and widening the NPH’s scope as a venue. It enjoyed a continuous evolution along these lines until at least 1950; before, during and after WWII, and throughout brought St Andrews its own, bespoke, cinema café culture. 

Audrey McBride (2020)

Works cited 

St Andrews Citizen, 12^th July 1930 – 5 December 1931. (All weekly editions). 

‘New Cinema for St Andrews’, St Andrews Citizen, 28^th June 1930.

‘St Andrews Town Council’, St Andrews Citizen, 12^th July 1930.

‘Young ladies with tea-room experience wanted’, St Andrews Citizen, 15^th November 1930.

‘St Andrews New Picture House’, St Andrews Citizen, 13^th December 1930.

‘The New Picture House’, St Andrews Citizen, 20^th December 1930. 

‘Tearoom Manageress wanted’, St Andrews Citizen, 14^th March 1931. 

‘Tearoom at New Picture House’, St Andrews Citizen, 13^th June 1931. 

‘Waitress Wanted’, St Andrews Citizen, 20^th June 1931. 

‘New Picture House Café’, St Andrews Citizen, 4^th July 1931. 

‘A Novel Xmas Party’, St Andrews Citizen, 5^th December 1931.

‘Birthday Celebration of New Picture House’, St Andrews Citizen, 19^th December 1931. 

‘New Picture House Birthday Celebration’, St Andrews Citizen, 24^th December 1931.

‘Gallipoli Veterans’ Re-union (To the Editor.),’ St Andrews Citizen, 24^th December 1931. 

‘Gallipoli Survivor’s Re-union (To the Editor.),’ St Andrews Citizen, 9^th January 1932. 

Gillespie and Scott Drawings, St Andrews University Library (Bundle 2071). 

‘117 North Street, The New Picture House’, Historic Environment Scotland, http://portal.historicenvironment.scot/designation/LB51110 Last accessed 29th March 2020. 

‘New Picture House’, Dictionary of Scottish Architects 1660-1980,http://www.scottisharchitects.org.uk/building_list.php?bsstr=&bstwn=&bsisl=&bscnt=&bsctr=&bsnme=new+picture+house&bscls=Any&bsarc=&bscln=  Last accessed 29^thMarch 2020. 

Advertisement for The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari
in The St. Andrews Citizen, 5 March, 1949.

In 1949, The St. Andrews Film Society – formerly known as The Dundee and St. Andrews Film Society – relaunched on its own, with an opening performance of Raymond Bernard’s Les Otages. For this opening event at the New Picture House on 20 February, each of the 150 members in attendance were personally greeted by Mr. A. B. Paterson, the original founder of The Byre Theatre and a key figure in St. Andrews’ artistic community. While the society would become an integral part of the town’s artistic community – through its Sunday evening screenings – its second performance on Sunday March 6^thhighlighted a series of challenges facing the newly-formed society.

The film chosen for this second event was Robert Wiene’s classic German Expressionist film, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1919) (St Andrews Citizen, 19 February 1949). The choice of Caligari is significant for a number of reasons, not least as a German film made in the aftermath of the First World War, which was now screened in the aftermath of the Second World War. The choice also shows how the reformed St. Andrews Film Society sought to portray itself to the town. By picking Les Otages and The Cabinet of Dr. Caligarias their first two screenings, the society was foregrounding international films already celebrated within the film canon. It wanted to educate the town on films which were thought of as well-crafted, and which created a counterpart to the Hollywood imports often shown throughout the week.

Yet, according to a review of the Caligari screening in The St. Andrews Citizen, the audience were far from impressed (The Citizen, 12 March 1949). The article states that when made in 1919, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari was a film intent on ‘horrifying’ but now in 1949, the ‘crude technique, compared with films of today, relieved the tension for the St Andrews audience by the comic effect of its most dramatic moments.’ 30 years after its initial release, Caligari was seen to have lost its sinister atmosphere and frightening impact – audiences were now laughing at scenes which had once evoked fear, and comparing Caligari’stechnical aspects to modern films of the 1940s.

The idea of technology failing to transition well through the years is also apparent in another aspect of the screening. According to the newspaper, the society were informed that the film took 81 minutes to show, but this was on the old, silent projector, whereas ‘on the high speed modern sound projector, the film went through in an hour’, significantly transforming the film for the modern audience. The screening was instead presented as ‘an interesting study’ which ‘underlined the technical advance in 30 years’, showing how these two negative aspects of the screening (the unexpected laughter, and erroneous speed) were used to promote apparent modern ‘advances’. Whilst the aim of the screening was to appreciatethe film for its historical and cinematic importance, it was used instead to show how far technology has developed in the time since its original release.

The screening of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari highlights a dislocation between what The Film Society thought audiences should see and what the citizens of St. Andrews wanted to see. Looking back at the screening now, we can see a society trying to educate audiences in the canonical titles of film history, and whilst this may not have always been successful, we can appreciate the efforts to find a space in the town to view and study film not only as entertainment but also as an art form.

Lyndsay Townsend (2018)

Works Cited:

St. Andrews Citizen, February 19, 1949.

St. Andrews Citizen, March 12, 1949.

1943: The allies capture Tripoli from the Nazis; Television Broadcasting continues to be suspended; George Harrison is born; and two St. Andrews students begin their film magazine, Monarch News

The ambitious Monarch – a hand-made magazine – was produced from 1943-1944. Manufactured against the backdrop of war, it provides a valuable glimpse into the period from the perspective of students, prospective film critics and members of the armed forces – all rolled into one. Founded by two St Andrews Students, Rollo Mitchell and Bob Edwards, and produced in Cowdenbeath, Monarch’s influences, and reports, came from far and wide: from London, to Hollywood and even Egypt.

The magazine is a testament to the enduring popularity of film throughout the war, highlighting and discussing many war films across its pages. It included film reviews which often celebrated patriotic war productions, such as In Which We Serve (Noel Coward, 1942, Great Britain), which the magazine praised as ‘one of the best films we have ever made’ [Monarch News, May 1943, issue 7].

The pages of the magazine also reveal the impact of war on the nation.  Conscription, bombing and rationing are all mentioned in the articles, while these challenges are more acutely felt in Monarch’s own efforts to source film and complete work on its own short production.

From May 1943, Monarch would also include short cuttings of ‘Stars Who Serve,’ which would detail each actor’s latest films alongside a small portrait. Star profiles included the likes of the British star, ‘Major’ David Niven, member of the Rifle Brigade (Monarch News, May 1943, Issue 7), and ‘Lieutenant’ Laurence Olivier who joined the Fleet Air Arm (Monarch News, July 1943, Issue 10). American stars like ‘Lieutenant’ James Stewart were also included in the sections (Monarch News, July 1943, Issue 9).

The ‘Stars Who Serve’ sections were cut outs from other newspapers and work to emphasise the film industry’s contribution to the war effort. Even those involved in propaganda films, like ‘Lieutenant’ Olivier, felt a strong obligation to ‘sign up’.

While stitched together in Scotland, each issue of Monarch was filled with references to war, both at home and further afield. Weekly interviews with the magazine’s collaborators, titled ‘Confess, Brother! Confess!”, detail the intimacies of the lives of these young adults. When asked what the worst experience of his life was, ‘photographic expert’ John Short answered: ‘The Blitz in Greenock’.

Even the satirical ‘Sadie Tripe: Don’t Believe it!’ column, would address female volunteering for the WAAF (Women’s Auxiliary Air Force) or the WRENS (Women’s Royal Navy Service), noting that Sadie knew it was her ‘turn to do my bit’ [Monarch News, January 1944, Issue 18].

The magazine even included articles in two issues from an ‘overseas correspondent’; overseas because he was serving with the armed forces. One of these articles discussed ‘South African Cinema’ (Monarch News, October 1943, 14), while the other was entitled ‘Church Bigotry versus Sunday Cinema’ (Monarch News, September 1943, 13). In discussing the relationship between cinema, war and Sunday screenings, the author, R. G Matthews (RAF), expressed his frustration at the closure of cinemas on Sundays, arguing that they could provide a source of moral education. Matthews also tells readers about his experience working in South African cinemas – an article he sends from his new post in Egypt!

The magazine’s contributors – predominantly young men – were inevitably also involved in war work. President Bob Edwards was waiting for ‘summons’, and producer and star of Monarchproduction, And So Goodbye, Rollo Mitchell was a member of the RAF. Rollo’s wartime role can be traced throughout the magazine. Monarcheven includes a newspaper’s report on Mitchell’s success in Frankfurt, where his plane came in on a “wing and a prayer” (Monarch News, February 1944, Issue 19).

While wartime is a recurrent topic throughout the articles, it does not hamper the predominantly optimistic tone of the magazine. Just as wartime film can be read as an escape from day to day life, Monarch allowed these young adults a chance to explore their own interests, away from the pressures of war, jobs or university.

Francesca Woulfe (2018)

The covers of the Monarch and Mercury News

In the midst of WWII two St Andrews students came together to produce a series of film magazines. Robert Smart Edwards, aged 19 at the time, studied the arts; while William Rollo Mitchell, aged 20, studied the sciences. They took up the project during an intra-fighting period, while on leave from their studies for WWII service. Due to these circumstances, the publications were produced at Edwards’ home address, 20 Primmer Place, Cowdenbeath.

The magazines were handwritten on plain, stapled, paperback notebooks. Monarch News, the first title, ran for twenty-two issues, from February 1943 until May 1944. It was produced on a bi-monthly basis throughout 1943, and then as a monthly magazine in 1944. It was largely dedicated to Edwards and Mitchell’s film production, And So Goodbye, which they began working on in September 1942 (Monarch News, January 1944, 3). In order to write about their own production – as the producer and the director of And So Goodbye – the pair adopted nicknames. Edwards wrote under the name of the Sceptre, while Mitchell wrote under the name of Bo-Peep.

The magazines largely followed the conventions of the more established film publications of the time. They included film and theatre reviews, short stories, interviews, crossword puzzles, glamour shots, reader letters, and even art spreads and musical supplements. Some of the interviews and glamour shots were produced for their own production, while others were pulled directly from other film publications, such as Picturegoer, Modern Screen, Motion Picture and Silver Screen (see for example, Picturegoer, Dec. 1943, Picturegoer and Film Weekly, Nov. 1940, and Modern Screen, July 1942). The issues varied in length, sometimes running as short as eight pages and sometimes well exceeding the length of wartime publications.  For example, the Christmas/New Year Issue of Monarch News (No.17) reached an impressive 47 pages. The issue price started out at 2.5 pence, but took a leap to 6 pence in January 1944, although the annual subscription remained constant at £4 a year. The money was largely used to buy film stock for the society. It is not entirely clear as to how wide the readership of the magazines was; however, they were circulated through several households in Fife by mail.

Mercury, the second title, came into existence in June 1944, as a result of an unknown disagreement between Edwards and Mitchell. In May 1944, Edwards wrote column of “the Supreme Ruler”, which functioned as an Editor’s Letter, to announce that the issue of Monarch News was “likely to be the last.” He explained that:

“(…)a great deal of controversy in the administration of the Society(…)has resulted in the resignation of Robert S. Edwards as President (…) The ex-president wishes to make it clear that he is resigning because he finds there is complete incompatibility between himself and Producer William Rollo Mitchell. He cannot agree to Mitchell’s wild schemes for the future, as he considers “And So Goodbye” should have taught us that war-time is not favourable for the production of amateur films.”

What he called “Mitchell’s wild schemes” appear to be his plans for the public distribution of And So Goodbye, which Edwards opposed. Ultimately, Edwards formed Mercury Film Productions and began writing Mercury, this time on his own. It is not entirely clear as to how long Edwards ran Mercury, but it is safe to assume that it ran at least until December 1944.

Edwards graduated from St Andrews in 1950 with an MA, while Mitchell graduated in 1947 with a BSc. The two did not go on to make careers in the film industry; however, both went on to have teaching careers and both stayed involved with theatre. Mitchell’s son, Robin Mitchell, went on to make a 24-minute documentary about their production, which came out under the same title of And So Goodbye and was shown at various film festivals. The efforts of the duo show just how rich the cinema culture amongst St Andrews students was and how it could flourish at the most unlikely times.

Fidan Gasimova (May 2016)

Photograph of St Andrews by Archibald Downie. © Lawrence Levy Photographic Collection. All rights reserved. Image courtesy of the University of St Andrews Library, [ALB-17-11.2].”

The stories of Talbot and Adamson have been well documented. What we overlook is the abundance of photography shops that opened in town over the next few decades. It is possible that these shops were connected to the town’s more famous photographers. Their attempts to refine the process calotyping – the method by which paper photographs were taken – were often recorded in the local Fifeshire Journal. It was a calotypist who set up the first reported photography shop in St Andrews, which was advertised in the Fife Herald in 1855. The owner, Archibald Downie, had been a painter before setting up his shop.[2] Talbot was an academic, and Adamson a doctor. The shop owners came from a more entrepreneurial background, and were united by their ability to generate a profitable living from the photography boom.

As the photography shops flourished, another form of visual culture was making its mark on St Andrews. Several travelling showmen visited St Andrews in the 1870s and 80s. Some, like John Pepper, brought spectacular shows, which Downie responded to in his own work. Five months after Pepper’s show in 1875, and just in time for Christmas, Downie placed an advertisement in the local paper announcing that he had bought a magic lantern.[3] A magic lantern was a pre-cinematic projector, and a key part of Pepper’s show. Downie made it clear that his lantern could produce the same “dissolving effects” that Pepper’s shows were famous for. Pepper used the lantern to create ghost-like effects. Downie offered a slightly less gothic selection, putting on “scriptural, landscape, and comic” shows. Downie evidently adapted the technology for his local audience.

Downie was not the only person to see an opportunity in these travelling shows. In 1877 John Logan, paired up with a travelling show woman to put on “one of the best exhibitions of its kind ever seen in St Andrews”.[4] The show he put on was called a “diorama” of the Russo-Turkish War. We can get a sense of what a diorama is by imagining how Logan may have set up the event. He would start by deciding upon a suitable, circular room in which to present the show. He would then cover this room with paintings depicting the Austro-Russian War. He would use props and theatrical set design to give the paintings a sense of depth.[5] We know from local records that he played with tricks of light to create the illusion that small parts of the set were moving. [6] Local attendees would have entered the centre of the room, and found themselves in the heart of a 3D, moving war.

Other dioramas were shown in St Andrews, including a show by the nationally famous Poole and Young, but none received the kind of fanfare afforded to Herr Strauss and John Logan. Reporters may have taken particular pride in noting that the show was “got up, produced and personally superintended by our talented townsman, Mr John Logan.”

Sam Mills (August 2015)

[See image gallery at cinemastandrews.org.uk]

[1] Robert Crawford, The Begining and the End of the World (Edinburgh: Birlinn, 2011), 1.

[2] Fife Herald, 5 April 1855. Information and material accessed through University of St Andrews, Special Collections.

[3] St Andrews Citizen, 18 December 1875, 1.

[4] St Andrews Citizen, 26 April 1875.

[5] Laurent Mannoni and Richard Crangle, “The Diorama of Daugerre and Boston,” The Great Art of Light and Shadow: Archaeology of the Cinema (Exeter, Devon: U of Exeter, 2000), 185-191.

[6] St Andrews Citizen, 26 April 1875,

One of the most notable functions at the time, emphasizing the closely intermingled relationship of church and cinema, were the ‘Sunday Evening War Time Meetings’ held at the New Picture House. These meetings were organized by a committee of local ministers of different denominations, Rev. A. M. MacIver, Rev. Archibald Main, Rev. R. S. Thompson, ministers from the surrounding area Rev. J. M. B. Duncan, from Cupar and Rev. Professor Forrester, from Edinburgh, under the chairmanship of Rev. A. S. Dunlop of the Holy Trinity Church in cooperation with the NPH directors. The meetings were of a religious character and ran throughout the wartime winters, intending to provide support and comfort to the local young men and women, as well as members of the British and Allied armed forces stationed in the area.

The gatherings usually commenced with the clergymen of the committee or visiting guest speakers discussing matters of religious and social importance deemed appropriate in the difficult times of war. Examples of such topics included ‘Sentimentality or Christianity?’ and ‘The World Religious Situation’.[1] Up until 1941 the screening of short films after sermons was still at a relatively experimental stage, but the committee soon recognizing film’s ability to help deliver and amplify the sermon’s message, adopted screenings as a regular part of the evenings. Films shown primarily focused on the national war effort overseas showcasing the British military, travelogues, and documentary footage of the war. The meetings were brought to a close by hymn singing accompanied by a choir, the pianist G. A. Short and the orchestra of T. T. Fordyce.[2]

The convener of the meetings, Principal G. S. Duncan of St Mary’s College at the University of St. Andrews, had indicated that the Sunday War Time Meetings were an ‘experiment’ of sorts that evoked a great deal of criticism from other parts of Scotland, as films were not allowed to be screened on Sundays, a day of Christian worship and rest, and therefore special arrangements were made to facilitate these events[3]. Furthermore, reactions also came from local churchgoers, who in response to the psalms being sung at the meetings wrote to the St Andrews Citizen: ‘But why, oh why, must such praise be sung in cinema? Surely there is no more proper place than the church for this!’.[4] Such remarks reflected upon certain local perspectives that regarded the cinema as an unsuitable and inappropriate venue for such events to take place, thus, highlighting the controversial and untraditional nature of this alliance.

Nevertheless, the meetings’ social, cultural and religious influences in helping deal with the adversity of war, gained them popular support and were demanded back every year where ‘it was a common sight to see the large auditorium of the New Picture House filled, with the audience on some occasion even overflowing to the balcony’, proving in retrospect the success of this unique and progressive collaboration.[5]

Film Society programme for 13th December 1964. Showing Sergei Eisenstein (1963), a ‘Russian appreciation’.

Emerging from the Dundee and St Andrews Film Society as a separate organisation in 1947, the St Andrews Film Society represented a shared pursuit for the ‘Town and Gown’ communities of an area so heavily influenced by its historic academic institution. The Society’s numbers steadily rose as the 1950s arrived, and this effective integration of local citizens and university students was noted at the Annual General Meeting in 1953, as they approximated that there were roughly two student members to every local.

Over half a century before the establishment of a Film Studies Department at the University of St Andrews, the Film Society sought to educate its members on aspects of film form and directorial influence while broadening their horizons with a programme featuring an international array of films. As imports became more readily available following the war, films from continental Europe were a regular feature (with a noticeably fondness for French filmmakers).

One filmmaker whose work also featured frequently at film society screenings up and down the country was Sergei Eisenstein. The Riga-born Russian remains today a canonical name in the syllabuses of film courses worldwide (including those at the University of St Andrews), and his 1925 classic Battleship Potemkin remains one of the most screened and studied films in film groups and academic institutions.

Utilising the academic setting and mode of address, St Andrews Film Society made a significant attempt to edify their members with the work of Eisenstein in February 1953 when they invited “personal friend and biography author” Miss Marie Seton to present a special lecture. Having developed a close association with Eisenstein, which informed her much-lauded biography of him, Seton’s return to Britain saw her closely involved with the British Film Institute and the Film Society Movement. Her lecture was held on February 17^th in School III of United College, and Miss Seton is believed to have delivered it with the aid of film strips of his work and a film screening lasting approximately one hour. The following week, the St Andrews Citizen reported that Seton’s lecture was attended by approximately fifty society members.

Three months after the visit of Marie Seton to St Andrews, the paper published details of the Film Society’s Annual General Meeting, which cast this Eisenstein lecture in a rather less optimistic light. Despite a confident declaration that the society remained “one of the largest and most flourishing in Scotland”, the event appeared among a list of perceived failures for them, which also included their short-lived efforts to run a separate 16mm film society and continued attempts to finish production of an unspecified ‘St Andrews Film Unit’ film of their own. Having cost the society £15 (a considerable sum at the time) and reportedly attracted fewer than the fifty attendees mentioned previously, the council raised serious doubts about the feasibility of future events in a similar vein. While its facilities were evidently available for use by the Society, the University of St Andrews does not appear to have provided any fiscal backing to the organisation. With a limited budget to work with (despite high membership figures), it would seem that they were quite understandably reluctant to sacrifice financial stability for events that garnered only moderate support.

James Erwin

Works Cited

‘Pioneer Remembered‘, The Hindu (4 March 2010).

Seton, M., Sergei M. Eisenstein: The Definitive Biography. New York: Grove Press, 1960.

St Andrews Citizen (14 February 1953): 4.

St Andrews Citizen (30 May 1953): 4.

The week comprised seven meetings, which were held each night (except Saturday). Significantly, the opening and closing assemblies were held in the New Picture House on North Street. These two Sunday meetings proved the most popular among the youth and university students.

The first meeting took place in the New Picture House on Sunday 18 November 1945. The evening was led by Dr. George MacLeod, a reverend from Govan who had previously given his sermons via radio broadcasts as a regular feature on the B.B.C. His particular focus was on ‘Christianity and the World of Nations,’ questioning the place of the Church within the impending post-war society.

The closing delivery on Sunday November 25th was given by Glasgow chaplain Dr. Archie Craig. His topic, ‘Christianity and You,’ served as the general conclusion and outlined the broader goals of the week. Much like the first evening, this meeting was better received and more widely attended than the rest. The student publication, College Echoes, reported that ‘The final meeting in the Picture House had an audience of about 600 people to all of whom the Week had made some real difference.’

The event responded in particular to a popular anxiety surrounding the moral well-being of the Scottish youth, specifically those of Christian families. At the Tuesday meeting, which focused primarily on ‘Christianity and Home and Family Life’, Sheriff J.W. More noted a juvenile delinquency problem, and suggested that bad behavior amongst the youth was becoming an issue that he ‘had never seen’ before in St. Andrews.

These fears surrounding juvenile delinquency were aligned to discourses around the moral role of the cinema in society. An article in The Citizen regarding the growing number of children visiting the cinema during the war noted that it was not uncommon for children as young as 6 to attend unchaperoned. It is also suggested that War had brought with it a trend for darker, more ‘violent’ pictures which, while intended for an older audience, were often seen by young children. It is perhaps ironic then that an event discussing the corrosive influence of modern society on children should be held within the cinema. However, for the cinema such an affiliation with religious organisations would appear to boost its moral standing and legitimacy within the community.

The week received mixed reviews. George Johnston, writing in The Citizen, wished for a greater incorporation of media, such as a film or dance, across the events. The first meeting led by George MacLeod was broadcast by the B.B.C. and featured a choral performance and orchestra, but all the other assemblies were lectures and discussions.

The use of the NPH within this event enabled the ‘house of entertainment’ to present itself as a place of learning and discussion, where faith could be contextualized and re-imagined amongst a younger audience. Ultimately, the week encouraged the founding of more youth-based activities and, in using the local cinema, sought to instill a Christian identity within these juvenile cinemagoers.

Erin Bell

See here for further discussion of the Sunday wartime meetings.

Works Cited:

Baillie, D.M., ‘Religion and Life Week’, The Citizen, 17 Nov 1945.

Johnston, George, ‘Religion and Life Week: Young People’s Night’, The Citizen, 1 Dec 1945.

‘Cinema and Family Life’, The Citizen, 3 Mar 1945.

‘Religion and Life’, College Echoes, 57.2, 2 Dec 1945, 16-17.

‘Religion and Life Week’, The Citizen, 24 Nov 1945.

2004 saw the appointment of the first Chair of Film Studies, who would have the responsibility of establishing both the Department and a Centre for Film Studies; the former would provide undergraduate and postgraduate teaching and the latter would bring together and co-ordinate research on film being conducted in various departments (English, History, Modern Languages).

Appointed to the post was Professor Dina Iordanova, a Bulgarian who had an extensive academic track record in Canada, the United States and England and who was an acknowledged pioneer and expert in the field of Balkan cinema. Her first appointment was Dr. David Martin-Jones, a younger scholar who had recently earned his PhD and who specialised in Film Philosophy and World Cinemas. In the following years the department grew rapidly and within five years it counted seven full-time lecturers, three post-doctoral researchers and eighteen PhD students, making it one of the largest programmes of the kind in the UK.

From the beginning it was clear that this would be a Department of Film Studies (as opposed to Film, Television and Screen Studies, for example) and that a strong emphasis would be placed on World Cinemas and the concept of ‘transnational cinema’ – the idea that film transcends national borders and is not easily reducible to ‘British cinema’, ‘American cinema’, ‘French cinema’, or whatever. This principle was enshrined in the new Department’s first international conference, Cinema at the Periphery, held over three days in June 2006. The conference explored the role of marginal cinemas that existed across the globe on the margins of the mainstream; it resulted in a book of the same name, published by Wayne State University Press in 2010 and co-edited by Dina Iordanova, David Martin-Jones and Belén Vidal.

Since that time the Department has moved into bold new areas, establishing a major research project on the global circulation of films (Dynamics in World Cinema), setting up the Scottish Consortium for Film and Visual Studies and pioneering research into film festivals. In 2009 it also launched a publishing wing, St Andrews Film Studies, which has to date produced five books, with several more in the pipeline. In the December 2008 nationwide Research Assessment Exercise, Film Studies became the best-performing Department in the University’s Faculty of Arts and Humanities and one of the highest-ranked Film Departments in the UK – a remarkable achievement for such a young Department.

The Centre for Film Studies did not only have an impact within academia, however. Over the years it has been responsible for bringing numerous films and filmmakers to the town as well as selections from the Italian, French and Africa in Motion Film Festivals. Recently it entered into a relationship with the Byre Theatre which, it is hoped, will significantly increase the diversity of film on offer in the town.

Alex Marlow-Mann