You probably had to be there to fully grasp the subversive, demented thrill of the Scala, the notorious, long-shuttered London cinema famed for the anarchic creativity of its programming, the stickiness of its carpets and the exuberant, frequently X-rated antics of its audiences. But this suitably riotous documentary by former Scala programmer Jane Giles and co-director Ali Catterall does a fantastic job of taking us inside the shuddering walls (the Northern line trains in and out of King’s Cross station shook the whole building to its foundations) and recreating the unique atmosphere of the venue that was nicknamed the “Sodom Odeon”.

The Scala, says the director approvingly, was like “a country club for criminals and lunatics and people that were high”. It was a temple to the perverse, populated by reprobates, blow-ins from King’s Cross squat parties, vagrants and movie fanatics. It’s a place that left its grubby fingerprints on the tastes of everyone who passed through its doors (mine included – although even with 25 years of experience as a film critic, I still don’t think I have the vocabulary to do justice to one of the movies regularly shown there, a wigged-out porno horror comedy titled Thundercrack!).

Borrowing a punky, handmade aesthetic from the famous monthly programme posters, the film collates wildly entertaining interviews with former staff and punters, including Adam Buxton, Mary Harron, Stewart Lee and Ben Wheatley. It also contains a deliciously funny anecdote about a comatose audience member and a prosthetic limb. What elevates the story is the matter-of-fact delivery: for most people, it would be the stuff that nightmares are made of, but it’s just another night at the Scala.