Lady’s Experience at a Movie Premiere in Leicester Square

Ever since I moved to London I’ve heard about the movie premieres in Leicester Square. All the papers have pictures of celebrities from the premieres, whether they’re the latest James Bond films or big Hollywood blockbusters. Never did I think I would be walking down the red carpet to attend one myself.

Movie Premiere in Leicester Square

Until last weekend, that is. On Sunday I was having tea with a friend at the National Portrait Gallery, which is just around the corner from where the movie premieres in Leicester Square take place.

As we enjoyed a cuppa, she invited me to attend the UK premiere of Valkyrie, a Tom Cruise movie, on Wednesday night. I said yes. Of course. Who turns down Hollywood?

Last night I went to Leicester Square ready to enjoy an evening of celebrity spotting and Hollywood magic. But first I had to find my friend, which was harder than it sounds.

The tough thing about meeting someone in Leicester Square is that there seems to be at least two—and in some cases three—of every restaurant.

When I arrived at the square, my friend texted me that she was standing outside Angus Steakhouse. I walked up to said steakhouse and found myself alone.

After several texts (are you still here?) and a phone call, we realized she was at the other Angus Steakhouse, which happened to be just two buildings away. Apparently there can never be enough Angus Steakhouses in a city square.

Together at last, we went to present our tickets to the official ticket checkers. It turns out we didn’t actually have our tickets, we just had a pretty piece of paper saying that we should have them.

They had been couriered to my friend’s flat that afternoon, but she hadn’t gone home after work. Thankfully our names were on the “list”. As a result, we got personally escorted down the red carpet by a member of staff.

Red Carpet in Leicester Square

A word about the red carpet. Having never been to a movie premiere in Leicester Square before (and having only paid marginal attention to the red carpet at televised events), I didn’t realize it wasn’t just the celebrities that got to enjoy their moment on it. Not at all.

In reality, everyone who has a ticket to the film premiere gets to have her three seconds of fame. Or should I say her three seconds of photographers yelling at her to get out of the way so they can get more photos of Tom Cruise?

Our guide took us down the red carpet, under the bright lights, past the sea of fish-eye lenses and flashbulbs, and into the movie theater.

Cinema in Leicester Square

Once inside the cinema, she made the mistake of walking us right in front of a row of photographers that was trying to get a few shots of a celebrity who was entering the building.

They booed at us as our heads blocked their sure-to-be-prize-winning shots of the prima donna. Whoops.

Our seats for the movie premiere in Leicester Square were upstairs, and once we were safely in them we viewed footage of the red carpet outside as we waited for the film to start.

We watched the actors, director, and writers give interviews. We watched Tom Cruise autograph everything from Valkyrie posters to handmade Top Gun paraphernalia.

When that was done, we watched all 25 actors—all clad in black except for one of the two female actors, who boldly wore a bright blue above-the-knee dress with a heavy dose of crinoline underneath—line up on stage to take a bow.

The Movie

And then we watched the film. It was a war film, which is not to say that it wasn’t entertaining. It’s just that when you know that the film is about an attempt to assassinate Hitler, you already know how it’s going to end.

Well, that’s assuming you know anything about World War II history, which I think most people do. Ok, so the film wasn’t a means to and end. I get that.

But there’s nothing like knowing the ending of a movie to make you antsy throughout the whole thing.

After Party

When the movie premiere in Leicester Square ended and the lights went up, we went outside onto the mezzanine and saw several of the actors roaming around, meeting and greeting, and getting ready for the after party.

Yes, the after party. Originally we hadn’t realized that we were invited, but when our escort led us down the red carpet, she told us that because we didn’t have our tickets, we would have to remind the people at the after party that we were on the list.

Yes, we said. The after party. Of course we knew we were invited to the after party. What kind of person doesn’t know she’s invited to the after party?

The after party was held at the Mall Galleries, a series of contemporary art exhibition spaces on The Mall run by the Federation of British Artists.

The place was decorated beautifully with red roses, black tables, and mirrored surfaces everywhere. It was all Hollywood glamor.

Indulging in our share of champagne, we people watched our hearts out. My friend and I particularly loved the moment when we overheard someone asking “so how long have you been a Scientologist?”.

After we stopped laughing, we spent some time talking with one of the script writers, who was a family friend of my friend’s.

Despite an entire private room reserved for him, Tom Cruise did not grace the party with his presence. But that was okay.

We still got to see our fair share of the other cast members, including Bill Nighy, a man Americans best know for his humorous role as an aging rocker in the film Love Actually.

We spotted Kenneth Branagh, a man I best know for being my high school English teacher’s favorite Shakespearean actor.

And we saw Carice van Houten, a woman most people don’t know at all—even the interviewer on the red carpet pronounced her last name incorrectly.

But last night she was known for being one of only two females in the movie, which made it easy to find her in the sea of men in black.

Movie Premiere in Leicester Square: The Verdict

As the clock struck midnight, I walked outside onto the dirt sidewalk of The Mall and into the cold London rain. So much for the red carpet. My magical Hollywood evening had come to an end.

I ran to Trafalgar Square to catch the last tube of night. My train chugged slowly north to Hampstead, where I walked down the uninspiring beige carpet to my flat, shook off my five-inch heels, scrubbed the make-up off my face, and went to bed. Talk about a predictable ending.

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