You always remember your first time. Thanks to my brothers, I certainly will.
The premiere of The Borrowers, at the Odeon Leicester Square, was not my first screening of the film. That happened at a screening room at the Hard Rock Café, a treat laid on by the filmmakers for me and some school friends. It’s a happy memory and I think my friends enjoyed it, but that might have had something to do with the free mini-burgers and Coke. The premiere itself was an altogether more elaborate affair. It was nothing on the level of what was to come, but it was still a big deal. None of my family had ever been to a film premiere before, so we didn’t know what to expect and Mum and Dad couldn’t prepare me for the experience. There were crowds outside and this time they weren’t cheering for Macaulay Culkin, they were cheering for me and the rest of the cast. I don’t think, though, that I let it go to my head too much. Did I mention that having three older brothers tends to keep you grounded?
We arrived in a convoy of Morris Minors—the classic cars that were used in the film—and I stepped outside in my snazzy white suit, black tie and white shirt (I told you I had an early eye on the James Bond gig). It was a little intimidating, so I stuck close to Flora. She was my safety net. She carried a lot more of the weight of the film on her shoulders than I did. She was Batman, I was Robin. She was Harry, I was Ron (almost literally, with my orange hair). Flora was confident and articulate and incredibly good at dealing with the cameras and the interviews. I stuck close and followed her eloquent lead.
While I was outside doing the red carpet, my family headed into the cinema. Here they found lots of well-dressed, pretty ladies holding trays of free champagne. How did they know it was free? They each confirmed its price by asking the pretty ladies separately. My eldest brother Jink took particular advantage of the complimentary booze, as any self-respecting sixteen-year-old would have done. And since he had an hour to kill between our arrival and the start of the film, he had plenty of time in which to do it. He surreptitiously necked several glasses and, when the time came, made his unsteady way into the auditorium. The opening credits hadn’t even started to roll, however, when Jink felt a sudden, urgent need to be elsewhere. He stood up, stumbled past a few irritated audience members in his aisle, and disappeared.
Five minutes passed. No sign of Jink. My dad muttered a few choice words and went off to find his wayward eldest son. Predictably enough, he was locked in a toilet cubicle on his knees, worshipping the porcelain as the free champagne worked its way back out. My dad stood outside the cubicle, suited and booted, while Jink heaved his guts out. And the icing on the cake? A punter wandered in and, seeing him standing there in his suit, mistook my dad for a toilet attendant and tipped him a pound. It was not, all in all, how he expected his evening to pan out (but he did keep the pound).
So Jink missed the film, my dad missed the film and the evening’s festivities weren’t over yet. A huge after-party followed. It was held in a massive warehouse dressed with the oversized props from the film, with music, games, sweets and—you guessed it—more free champagne. This time it was the turn of Ash—aged thirteen and following in his older brother’s footsteps—to sample the fruits of the French countryside. With several glasses down his gullet, he decided it would be a good idea to have a go on the enormous bouncy castle with Chris. It was not a good idea. The bouncy castle was being used by kids half their age and size. Chris accidentally kneed a nine-year-old in the back of the head. Not to be outdone by his older brother, Ash took a few bounces and then projectile vomited in spectacular fashion into the corner of the castle. He crawled off the castle, belched loudly and announced, “I feel much better now!”
All in all, I think it’s fair to say that the behaviour of the Felton brothers that evening was, at best, mixed. But I didn’t let it upset me. I just enjoyed the evening for what it was. After all, it wasn’t like I had any big hopes of being an actor or, even more unlikely, a movie star. I’d had my moment in the sun and the chances were that this would be my first and last film premiere. Wouldn’t it?