Only the lonely at Rex

I have just finished reading a magazine article in which a dummy ('dummy' being my choice of collective noun) of bar proprietors enthusiastically drooled on about their contribution to London's social scene.

It caught my eye because I had just returned home from visiting one of the interviewees' venues, the Rex Cinema & Bar, on the northern end of the ghastly plaza otherwise known as Leicester Square. In the article proprietor Beth Earl, 22, convinces us of her dedication and enthusiasm for the industry. 'I am still figuring which direction to go in,' she bravely states. 'But this seemed like a fun thing to do.'

Now where, you might ask, does a 22-year-old get the backing to open a venue in a prime location? Daddy, perhaps? When the daddy in question turns out to be Robert Earl, the man busy turning round the fortunes of Planet Hollywood, I can almost hear the conversation: 'There you are dear, take some space in my lamentable empire, and here's a wheelbarrow full of money. Now go play.'

The result is a good idea - a basement cocktail bar with a 75-seater cinema attached beneath Planet Hollywood. Its website (www.rexcinemaandbar.com) describes the films as 'private screenings' which, presumably, means they're for Beth and her mates. But the cinema is of no professional interest to me.

The man on the door told my friend Juliet that the bar was 'exclusive'. 'Members or guest list only,' he told her. Juliet is not a friend of Beth Earl, and is never likely to be, but then I materialised with a membership card and we were granted access. Several miles later, deep in the bowels of Planet Hollywood, we found the exclusive bar - so exclusive, in fact, that we were the only people there.

The drinks list, prepared without the assistance of a proofreader, promises some interesting cocktails, but on a warm and muggy evening I chose to start with a beer. Draught beer comes in the form of Kronenbourg and, as is often the case in bars trying to be fancy, is only available by the half pint. The beggars in the streets outside have more taste than to buy Kronenbourg.

The cocktail list includes old classics and modern infusions, and some - though not all - are palatable. The flavoured martinis (pear and cinnamon, or thyme) were pleasantly acceptable, the Negroni (gin, Campari and red vermouth) was a disaster. Bubble gum and kamikaze shooters complete the list of oh-so-stylish drinks.

I have it on good authority that the place often hosts many hooleys, and it could be a useful spot for a late night drink. But I can't imagine what sort of people would want to go there other than Big Brother rejects and those awful people who consider St Tropez to be stylish.

When Ms Earl gets bored with her new toy, as children are prone to do, and moves on to whatever it is she wants to do in the future, this could be a good bar. Meanwhile, if you can't get on the guest list and (for reasons known best to yourself) you still want to go and see for yourself, my membership number is 59. I don't think I'll be needing it anymore.

Rex Cinema & Bar
21 Rupert Street, W1D 7PA