Well, that didn't quite work out as planned. I got to the cinema, only to find that the Documental del més was still a film made by French actress Sandrine Bonnaire about her autistic sister, Sabine. It didn't appeal, my shallow personality is ashamed to say. Quickly eyeing up the list I saw there was a documentary about The Doors, When You're Strange, directed by Tony DiCillo and narrated by Johnny Depp, whoever they are. Kick-off was 9.15pm, so I bought a ticket and headed back to the flat for dinner.
The cinema had a group of acrobats doing yoga in the foyer when I first arrived. When I came back they were taking it on turns on the trapeze they'd suspended from one of the beams. It was rather nice. Sala Dos, where my film was playing, was upstairs over crumbling steps and impossible walkways which ended up in a fabulous, rather run-down bar area overlooking Santiago's main traffic artery, the Avenida del Libertador Bernardo O'Higgins, or Avenida Alameda, if you feel so inclined. It's enormously broad in the former communist bloc school of urban planning and puts me in mind of Moscow's Kalinin Prospect. Sala Dos was tiny: six rows of four fifties-style cinema seats (or probably actual seats from the fifties, come to mention it) with an extra one near the front, presumably because they had room for it. There were six of us to witness Jim Morrison's rise and fall. I didn't realise that he, Hendrix and Joplin were all 27 when they died. Anyone who normally takes even a passing interest in pop music knows this, I'm sure. For my part, I first heard their music just after his death was announced in February, 1971. Funny to think that Mrs. Fingers was a mere month old when he died. Funnier still to think that if she was put on this earth to replace him, she encapsulates his soul in rehab.
The shouting Finns start on June 8th, so there'll just be time to catch it before heading back to Europe.
By the way, this Bernardo O'Higgins was quite a colourful chap; I suggest you look him up.