Bringing Pride to an Ex-Coal Mining Community

Written by Tyler Turner from Headstocks Cinema.

When a new community cinema based in an ex-pit town in the East Midlands Coalfield chose to debut with Pride (2014), the decision was called “brave”. Brave because cinema is seen as an unaffordable luxury in lower-income areas that is becoming increasingly inaccessible in the age of streaming. Brave because the Bolsover District where the screening took place was famously known as the most divided during the 1984-5 Miner’s Strike. Braver still because it came at a time when hate towards marginalised people within the town was particularly loud. But these all stand as reasons why community cinemas are needed in ex-coal mining towns, not why they shouldn’t exist.

In the 20th Century, a local cinema in a coal-mining town was as standard as the headstocks that defined it. By the 1970s, most were closed down, demolished or converted into bingo halls and convenience stores. Ex-coal mining communities are still defined by what they have lost and carry this loss through the generations. Community cinema is therefore about reclaiming what has been lost but it is also about looking forward and evolving to represent marginalised people within those communities.

Reclaiming Cinema

For working-class people, cinema-going had been the only way to experience films for decades. It became a popular form of entertainment, particularly during the world wars, when film was used to entertain, inform and lift spirits. Now it’s a luxury that requires planning; not only is there the ticket and snacks cost to consider but also transport fees and travel time, when once upon a time there were multiple affordable options on the doorstep.

In Bolsover, the town boasted one of the leading coal companies and not one, but two cinemas. In the Carr Vale District, the Central Hall had introduced film screenings by 1909. Later renamed the Central Hall Picture Theatre, the cinema could seat over 400 viewers at its height. In the town centre, the New Palace Cinema, later renamed the Plaza Cinema, opened in 1914. It had seating for 589 people and an in-house café for its patrons.

Both cinemas had closed by 1970. It is no coincidence that these cinemas were lost almost simultaneously. Numerous factors contributed to the decline of cinema across the UK, including the mass production of televisions in the 1950s, the rising popularity of bingo in the 1960s which saw cinemas converted to bingo halls and the economic consequences of pit closures and industrial action. Some cinemas were funded by the Miners’ Welfare, as were most sports clubs and leisure facilities in pit towns and villages, so when the local pit closed, so did the cinema. The industrial action in 1972-4, which caused power cuts across the UK, also turned the lights out on the longer-lasting cinemas, as the stagnated post-war wages that led to the strike would suggest fewer working-class people had the money to spare on trips to the cinema.

A community cinema not only provides an opportunity to reclaim something – it also serves as a reminder of what “community” used to look like before deindustrialisation significantly fractured and restructured the meaning of the word. It is an accessible option that allows one to leave the living room behind and experience film in its intended environment. In lower-income areas priced out by the rising cost of living, a community cinema motivated by accessibility, inclusivity and solidarity is a godsend.

Representation

Despite many being divided by the strike, there is a lot to unite coal-mining communities and “pride” is a big contributor. People are proud of their heritage and identities, but the two things can conflict for marginalised people. Those from ex-mining towns who have seen or experienced prejudice within their communities can struggle to marry the two together or might reject one (or both) completely, as is often explored in post-industrial cinema.

From Billy Elliot to The Full Monty, the exploration of queer identities in industrial communities has been a common theme in the genre since the 1990s. Some critics say that it reflects a “crisis of masculinity” but that implies that queer men only came into existence once heavy industry started to decline. On the contrary, queer people have always existed within coal mining communities, but it has not always been safe to exist openly.

As damaging as it was, the Miners’ Strike brought new opportunities for marginalised people to speak up and fight for their rights and because of this, the striking miners found allies in unlikely places. Pride is a film that reflects this and gives space to the experiences of queer people, mining communities, queer people within mining communities, and the community’s reaction to queer people.

Pride is bookended by the demonstrations of 1984 and 1985 and concludes with a scene where eighty miners march with the LGSM action group. The moving gesture is seen as the fitting culmination of a movement whose central argument is that support will be reciprocated if solidarity is offered. This makes the film an obvious choice to screen in an ex-coal mining town, not just as a cathartic celebration of heritage and sexual identity, but as a means of re-fusing the two things together. Sharing underrepresented stories also reinforces cinema as a safe space for those voices to be heard.

The Impact

A true story about lesbian and gay activists demonstrating solidarity with striking miners was destined for a mixed reception in an ex-mining community still nursing its wounds. On the surface, the film was consciously selected to commemorate the Miners’ Strike on its 40th anniversary, acknowledge the community’s shared history, and celebrate Pride Month. On a deeper level, it was chosen to reclaim a sense of community and reinforce the meaning of solidarity at a time when a reminder was needed.

The screening was a gathering of LGBTQIA+ identifying people and allies, people with accessibility needs and local people who had previously felt left out by the town’s evening entertainment offer. All had different reasons for venturing out that night but were united by the coal in their blood. Without being prompted to, audience members turned up with Pride flags and rainbow clothing and one young person even made a headstock headdress. Everyone laughed, cried and cheered in a cathartic celebration of heritage and identity that concluded with an ovation.

Speaking to people afterwards who shared their thoughts and experiences as queer people existing within an ex-coal mining town proved that the choice was not “brave” but necessary. Although there is a long way to go before community cinemas in ex-coal mining towns match the capacity of the Plaza Cinema, it is enough for now to provide a safe space for those who need it the most.