There is tremendous carnage here: blood oozing out of wounds to the stomach, both eyes like black hollows, faces completely red. In spite of his wounds, the blind hero crawls through the sand toward his beloved. Having just been released by a terrorist of some sort, and blinded as well, she begins her own slow crawl toward the hero. But they slither right past each other. The hero dies. His best friend — another gun-toting gangster dude splattered with red from head to toe — moans.
“Oh, Mickey Mouse, Mickey Mouse,” he says (according to the subtitles).
Knowing these final scenes from “The Killer,” a frequently screened Hong Kong cult film at Celluloid, the movie bar in West Town, won’t spoil the fun — of the movie or the place. “The Killer” has to be seen to be believed, and Celluloid, with its adjoining bar, Liquid Kitty, is a surprisingly relaxing and sweet escape.
Unlike Brew-n-View, the rowdy North Side movies and beer experience at the Vic, Celluloid is actually cozy. Set up like a private screening room with its own bar, Celluloid provides comfy padded movie chairs with strategically placed tables throughout the room, the same kind of diabetes-inducing candy you’d find in a regular ol’ movie theater, and good-sized viewing screens at both ends of the room.
If there’s a note of caution about seeing movies here, it’s that there’s no such thing as silence. There’s chatter by the bar — the bartender’s a peach — and folks prattle throughout the show, often talking back to the screen itself. So while the aesthetic is one of privacy, the feeling is more communal.
The same is true of Liquid Kitty, right next door. (While each space has its own door to the outside world, there’s a door between them as well, through which there’s constant traffic.) Housed in what was formerly the main room of the Bop Shop, Liquid Kitty’s an entirely different experience.
Gone are the stages, the video and pinball machines, the soft blue hues, the darkness and the jazz. Instead, Liquid Kitty is a well-lit, open room with a slinky red-orange-yellow-and-olive color scheme on the wall — circles, donuts, squiggles — that make it look like the inside of a kaleidoscope. There are red Jetsons-style chairs throughout, red couches, red lamps, Japanese lanterns, a big bright fish tank and a leopard-print rug.
Where the Bop Shop felt like the neighborhood bar that it was, Liquid Kitty feels like somebody’s living room — but really stylized. On any given night, there are gaggles of pals hanging out, talking, sharing a few drinks. The music’s heavy ’70s and ’80s — last Sunday, it was Al Greene, Gloria Gaynor, Marvin Gaye, Diana Ross — but not overwhelming. Not only is conversation possible, but it also feels as though it’s encouraged.
A couple of problems: Service is torturously relaxed. If you don’t sidle up to the bar for refills, you could die of thirst. That said, the staff — but for one fake-friendly manager — is affable and fast once you order.
Liquid Kitty’s second floor provides two rooms: one a hideaway living-roomlike area for private conversation, another a small space with two pool tables for a little competitive action. There’s no bar service.
On a recent night, a couple of guys strolled up to find both pool tables taken. One by a guy and a girl, both clearly expert players. The other by two women, both obviously novices out for kicks and little interest in perfecting their games. Rather than drop their three quarters on the table and wait their turn, the guys got a little pushy.
“How about a game, me and my friend against you two?” the guy in the baseball cap proposed.
“No, thanks, we’re not really playing, just messing around,” said one of the women.
“Come on, we’ll just mess around — me and my friend against you two.”
“No, thanks.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’re just messing around.”
“So . . . how about messing around me and my friend against you two?”
“Look, we don’t even know how to play.”
More Top Picks Best Therapy Swings For Special Needs
“That’s OK. Me and my friend against you two, huh? Come on.”
“No, thanks.”
“Why not?”
Even in the nicest places, you can’t get around the occasional blockhead.
———-
the facts
Sunday through Friday, 7 p.m. to 2 a.m., Saturday, 7 p.m. to 3 a.m., Celluloid and Liquid Kitty, 1807 W. Division St. Call 312-707-8888 for Celluloid and 312-707-8887 for Liquid Kitty. This weekend’s movie showings: Friday, 7:25 p.m., “Blazing Saddles”; 9:20 p.m., “Altered States”; 11:15 p.m., “Pulp Fiction”; Saturday, 7:30 p.m., “Altered States”; 9:45 p.m., “Blazing Saddles”; 11:25 p.m., “Pulp Fiction”; Sunday, 7:20 p.m., “Pulp Fiction”; 9:15 p.m., “The Killer”; 11:20 p.m., “Blazing Saddles.” Celluloid and Liquid Kitty are both wheelchair accessible (although the bars are quite high).