As a Secret Cinema virgin, who for 10 years had somehow never quite made it to one, I became very excited when the marketing for this year’s event ramped up. I was convinced I knew what the film was going to be (“how could it not be Dr Strangelove!?”) and keen as hell to experience their take on it.

I was not disappointed.

After a recent move away from their clandestine roots – revealing their chosen films well in advance, such as The Empire Strikes Back and Back to the Future – this year’s Tell No One was back to the old style of complete secrecy (with some fairly heavy hinting).

For the uninitiated, Secret Cinema Tell No One is a London-based immersive cinema event – more akin to live theatre than a trip to Cineworld. The film is a complete surprise, as is the location – all you get is a series of instructions, and a list of what to wear and what to bring. About a week before the event our email ‘dossier’ arrived – I had to dress in blue military garb (think British RAF) and bring a folder for world maps, surveillance photos and assorted secret documents. All the ‘cold war paranoia’ signs were indeed pointing towards this year’s film being my very favourite comedy of all time. My friend and editor of Methods Unsound even cockily printed off stickers saying ‘World Targets in Megadeaths‘ for our folders.

Arriving at the location we were greeted by stewards, fully dressed up and embracing the whole experience right down to the accents (with admittedly varying degrees of success). We were ushered into a huge warehouse decked out like an army base, from spotlights roaming the grounds to beachheads surrounding the area and finally I was welcomed to Burpelson Airbase, confirming exactly what I wanted to hear: we were deep in the world of Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb.

Separated from my group and ushered inside, I was met by a man who may as well have been Peter Sellers circa 1964 (“sure, ‘looks like'”) and we reported for duty. We were all given a sealable plastic bag to tuck away our communication devices and this was one of the biggest pleasures for me – no Snapchatting, Instagramming or anyone taking a selfie in sight. Everyone enjoyed it right there ‘in the moment’, not from behind a mobile phone. This meant the set-design could remain a surprise for future attendees and everyone could concentrate on enjoying the night instead of just recording it.

In essence, each Secret Cinema is a love letter to its respective film, and you can really see the joy from the producers in analysing that film right down to its very bones in order to recreate the heart and the soul of it for us visitors. It reminded me of a comic convention (but maybe a bit cooler) – 98% of attendees having made some kind of effort costume-wise and keen to get involved. The building itself – set up to like a military base from every angle – was lovingly dressed from the US army jeep, to antique typewriters and lamps, to minutely detailed paperwork laying around and notes scrawled on boards.

As we wondered around – accepting tasks from dressed up actors and exploring the rich and detailed set – little bits of the plot were played out by the cast of characters. Fights broke out, radios were confiscated and upstairs, General Ripper waxed lyrical on his low opinion of ‘Ruskies’ before the President made a rousing speech to the troops from a balcony.

There was also a fully laden bar with in-costume bar staff, and a mess hall selling hot food in mess tins – pulled pork buns and mac n’ cheese were on offer for around £6. ‘Coffee and tea’ was brought around on a serving trolley by secretaries. “The Sergeant might have spiked it” I was told with a wink before being handed something stronger than I was expecting. Mainly I strolled around the area with a huge grin on my face while being asked my advice on ways to “off Castro” or being sent to find B52 pilots in the mess hall and report back whether they were drunk or not. For full and true enjoyment there’s a certain amount of give and take here – the more you put in the more you get out. So if you’re prepared to get into character, dress up, talk to actors and accept missions and challenges I fail to see how you wouldn’t have a fantastic time.

When the air-raid siren finally called for us all to make our way through to the screening room, I was completely blown away (hmm, probably a bad choice of pun there). It was an enormous area decked out exactly like the War Room, with three screens at either end and the giant oval lights above a central stage.

There was a short but enjoyable debate staged regarding the various merits and fears surrounding ‘the bomb’ involving the actors we’d encountered throughout the evening, and then when the film started up it was displayed on two screens at either end of the hall, with two static screens either side picking out various set details that you wouldn’t otherwise be privy to. At various times during the film, actors reappeared to mime key scenes, from phone conversations to soldiers moving up the aisles shooting at one another. This gave a totally four-dimensional feel to the film; creating palpable tension in the more dramatic scenes and accentuating the humour within its many brilliant moments of satire

I make no qualms about saying this is the most I’ve ever enjoyed watching Dr. Strangelove. To be part of a huge room of people laughing along, calling out lines as the light from the screen shone on their costumes, it really was sublime. At £65+ per ticket it’s not a cheap night out but it’s truly a fantastic once-in-a-lifetime experience and thoughtfully executed. 

All images provided by Secret Cinema.

For more cinematic adventures in the capital, check out our guide to London Film Events, including this spoiler-free guide to Secret Cinema 28 Days Later.