NOW, FOR A BREAK FROM THE FORMULA

When The Projector opened, I didn’t expect it to survive. Wasn’t the money in super CGIedsuperhero-space opera blockbusters? And would there a consistent audience for the independent fi lms that The Projector screens? The themes could be far out, the pacing unpredictable, possibly somnolent, and the cinema was located, of all places, on the fi fth floor of the dimly lit Golden Mile Towers.

That was three years ago. And I must confess as a late convert that I’ve had some of my most enjoyable movie outings at this obscure venue. It’s not necessarily what’s playing on the screen, which, incidentally, is often well curated, but the sense of community the crowd emits, the feeling that everyone is supporting a common endeavour.

Here, the audience chuckles when a staff member hollers into the hall, five minutes into a movie: “Oi, who ordered the popcorn chicken?” Here, on No Plastic day, the same staff member unabashedly served me wine in a paper cup. And the viewers don’t always disperse after the closing credits, each to his or her own isolated bubble of experience, but stay on to talk, commune and listen to the live band late into the night.

There’s an alchemy here, a refreshing plug into youth culture that no privacy- driven Gold Class hall or Business Class screen can replicate, and a camaraderie that has become a buzzword for a new generation.

It’s what Aun Koh and Wee Teng Wen are trying to create with Straits Clan, their private members’ club that opens this month ( Page 32). They are the latest among a handful in the past few years who have created posh spaces to spark power conversations. How successful they are in replacing the function of country clubs remains to be seen. Meanwhile, the story of the savvy businesswoman behind The Projector, Karen Tan, and her revitalisation of Singapore’s forgotten places is on Page 48.