There are Mondays when life feels like a treadmill, and then there are Mondays when Los Angeles reminds you why you live here. Mine began with $1 oysters at Gravitas in Beverly Hills — reckless, briny indulgence — and ended in the velvet seats of Soho House West Hollywood’s hidden screening room. Between the oysters, the cinema, and the quiet reflections that followed, it became one of those nights where culture, food, and storytelling all collided.
For the uninitiated, the Soho experience begins underground. You enter through a discreet parking structure, check in at an understated counter, and glide upward in the elevator. The penthouse opens into hushed hallways — one of which hides the members-only screening room. Tonight, it was alive with anticipation. By 6:59 p.m., only four seats remained. Cocktails in hand, members settled into velvet seats, the scent of popcorn drifting through the air.
The film of the evening was The Thursday Murder Club — a new British crime comedy directed by Chris Columbus and based on Richard Osman’s 2020 novel. Its ensemble cast (Helen Mirren, Pierce Brosnan, Ben Kingsley, Celia Imrie, and more) promised wit and gravitas, and it delivered both.
The plot is simple — four elderly amateur sleuths, each with storied pasts, stumble into solving a murder. But the joy lies in the execution. The humor was dry, subtle, and impossibly smart — the kind of laughter that ripples through a room, starting soft and swelling until the entire theater was howling. The acting was delectable, every line delivered with precision and charm.
And yet, beneath the comedy was a quiet ache — the reminder that aging is inevitable. We will, if we are lucky, live long enough to become dependent on others. Watching these characters navigate their twilight years with wit and fire made me laugh, yes, but also think: how often do we plan for our lives at 80, 85, 90? Retirement planning stops at “comfortable” — but what about “very old”? What about safety, security, dignity? The film left me smiling, then left me contemplative.
When the credits rolled, I drifted upstairs. A lone man played jazz on the piano, his notes echoing into a near-empty lounge. Monday night in West Hollywood — sparse, subdued, the city still recovering from its weekend excess. By Wednesday, the place would be alive again. But tonight, it felt intimate, suspended in a quiet rhythm of beginnings.
By the time jazz drifted through the lounge upstairs, I realized the evening had been more than a film. The Thursday Murder Club wasn’t just witty entertainment; it was a mirror — a reminder to laugh, to plan, and to honor both the urgency of now and the inevitability of later. That’s what makes nights like this matter: indulgence, beauty, humor, and a hint of truth, all under one roof.
A RaigeMag Guide to the West Hollywood Experience
Best Nights – Mid-week (Wednesday–Friday), when the lounge buzzes but isn’t overcrowded.
The Screening Room – Hidden down a quiet penthouse hallway. Arrive early; it fills fast.
The Vibe – Velvet seats, curated film picks, cocktails, and popcorn — private-club energy at its finest.
What to Order – The House Picante cocktail: spicy, citrusy, and just strong enough.
Pro Tip – Show up 30 minutes early to explore the rooftop, catch skyline views, and maybe stumble onto impromptu live music.
Dress Code – Smart casual works, but a little West Hollywood chic always wins.
