Off the Cuff: Extending the credit line, in movie style

I am becoming something of an expert on empty cinemas. This is because I am usually the last to leave.

The ushers and usherettes have hung up their torches and gone yawning off either to bed or to their next assignments at cinema three, four seven, nine or whatever, and I am still sitting there.

Sitting among the detritus of a full house … squashed popcorn cartons, a carpet of spilt popcorn all over the floor, sweet wrappers, and containers that once held every conceivable drink from cola to cappuccino.

The reason is I am hooked on the credits at the end. Long after everyone has stampeded for the exits, I am firmly rooted in my seat as the list of names drags interminably on, and the theme music plays over and over.

It is only a matter of time before the credits become longer than the movie itself.

With each passing year, the slowly scrolling roll of honour gets bigger and bigger as more and more people carve themselves a slice of the ego cake.

A time was when film credits listed only those who played a major part in the creative process actors, directors, writers, cinematographers, etc.

Now, I am compulsively glued to my seat waiting to see who the accountant was. Or who did the catering.

In the Age of Information, it seems information needs to be on hand just for the sake of it. Just in case someone out there, some lost soul, happens to take a perverse interest in it.

Like me, sitting in the empty cinema ...

"Look," I tell myself, the joy of discovery alight in my eyes, "the insurance was covered by Quick, Snell, Grabbit and Co … now didn't they also do the underwriting on Titanic? The film, that is, not the ship. A fortuitous choice for them as it turned out.

Who furnished the cars? Who transported the crew? Who supplied the hospitality? Who did the publicity? Who provided the finance? … it's all there in a vast cornucopia of information slowly scrolling down the screen.

A magical world of Key Grips and Best Boys. Does anybody know exactly what the Best Boy does? And one wonders what the Worst Boy gets up to when nobody is looking.

Mr. DiCaprio's ties furnished by Brooks Brothers. Miss Kidman's gloves provided by Sachs. Lights by Lee Electric.

Carpets by Wilton. Bricks for the buildings by Joe's Building Supplies. The minutiae that go into creating the couple of hours of film are painstakingly catalogued for posterity.

Most of it is simply a treasure trove of trivia, but I suppose in the end it would be churlish to deny anyone a fleeting second of fame.

So thank you for reading this edition of Off the Cuff …

Edited by: Nicholas Coates

Layout by: Joseph Marques

Communications by: Etisalat

Finance by: Mr. Lindsay's bank manager

Catering by: Gulf News Canteen

Mr. Lindsay's hair by: Fred the barber

Transport by: friendly taxi driver

Mr. Lindsay's snack lunch by: Mrs. Lindsay.