The Electric Cinema and Blenheim Crescent
Why is it significant?
Stop in front of the white and red Edwardian facade with the word Electric across the top. It looks like a theatre from a toy box, and that is roughly what it was meant to be: a palace for a brand new invention.
Key Facts
| Place | The Electric Cinema and Blenheim Crescent |
|---|---|
| Address | 191 Portobello Road, London W11 2ED, United Kingdom |
| Geo Coordinates | 51.51550, -0.20510 |
| Part of Walk | Racecourse, Carnival and the Blue Door: Hidden Notting Hill & Portobello Road, London |
| Generated | Generated |
Stop in front of the white and red Edwardian facade with the word Electric across the top. It looks like a theatre from a toy box, and that is roughly what it was meant to be: a palace for a brand new invention.
The Electric was built in 1910, in the first great rush of purpose-built picture houses, when films were silent, short and accompanied by a piano. Most of its rivals have long since been demolished or turned into supermarkets and churches. This one survived, and it is counted among the oldest working cinemas in Britain, now listed for its architecture. Its name was a boast: in 1910, electric light and electric pictures were thrilling modern magic.
It has had dark days, too. There is a story often told about the place, that during the First World War its manager was German-born, and a suspicious crowd accused him of signalling to Zeppelin raiders from the roof... an accusation as absurd as it was frightening. Much later, by the 1980s and 90s, the old place was struggling, and it closed its doors before a careful restoration brought it back, in 2001, with leather armchairs and even a few beds in the front row.
Now look along Blenheim Crescent, the side street right beside you. For years there was a small specialist travel bookshop there, and it gave the screenwriter Richard Curtis the idea for William Thacker's failing travel bookshop in Notting Hill. In the film, a Hollywood star walks in to buy a book about Turkey, and William's life turns upside down. The real shop closed in 2011, but for a while it was one of the most photographed bookshops on earth, thanks to a shop that never existed.
The crescent itself is one more of those curves that wind down from the hilltop you just left. From here, carry on north along Portobello Road for a short way, then turn right into Colville Terrace and head to a pair of Victorian squares with a wild 1960s past.