Movie-watching championships in New York

The Movie Watching World Championship was about to begin. The target: the current record of five days, 23 minutes. The rules: contestants can talk, move, eat and drink, but all eyes must keep riveted to one of two big-screen TVs, except during ten-minute intermissions. The reward: $10,000, a popcorn-themed trophy and lifetime membership of Netflix, sponsor of the mercilessly branded event. Photograph: Ben Walters

Contestants’ conduct would be monitored by adjudicators; their vital signs by medical officers from the Long Island Fire Dept. The eight competitors had a range of backgrounds. Three college-age Americans – Jose Feliciano, Jerry Cavallaro and Matt Raub (“consider me the Michael Phelps of sitting around and watching movies”) – won their spots by uploading audition videos to the event’s Facebook page. Photograph: Ben Walters

Others were there on the strength of unusual achievements: Jeff Jones’s movie knowledge netted him $250,000 on Who Wants to Be A Millionaire?, while ‘Crazy Legs’ Conti, 37, once chomped his way out of sixty cubic feet of popcorn. Conti, who is currently ranked eleventh on the international competitive-eating circuit, wore a goatee, dreadlocks and black Dr Seuss hat, and described himself as “a true cinephile”. Photograph: Ben Walters

Then there were the movie-marathon veterans. Oregonian Cheryl Jones was one of 11 people who broke the record in 2003, while Claudia Wavra, a red-headed 31-year-old German, has secured it three times since then. She planned to recapture it from Ashish Sharma, of India, who set the current record in June but was unable to make it to New York to defend his title. Photograph: Ben Walters

Sri Lankan-born Canadian Suresh Joachim was confident despite his inexperience in the field. The slender, boyish 39-year-old has broken several dozen endurance-based world records, clocking up 55 hours of ironing, seven days on an escalator and nearly 70 hours of TV watching. In comparison to that last challenge, he expected this one to be “easy”. “Between every movie you get ten minutes. With TV watching, you can’t even put your hand to your face.” Photograph: Ben Walters

Each hopeful, clad in a red Netflix fleece with his or her national flag stitched to the sleeve, was introduced by a smooth MC before entering the hut. There was a roll-up-roll-up! air to proceedings, and a perversity to the enterprise: this was leisure activity as endurance event, physical exhaustion traded against the promise of gain. As one publicist chuckled, a financial crisis seemed an apt enough backdrop. “It’s like dance marathons in the Great Depression.” Photograph: Ben Walters

The hut’s interior was comfortably furnished with black leather sofas, house plants and snacks but was also plainly visible to passing traffic and pedestrians; a few dozen bystanders clustered around the structure. Once the eight were comfortably settled, the clock was officially started and Iron Man began. A well-wisher’s shout could be heard through the perspex as the credits appeared: “You guys are kicking ass!” Photograph: Ben Walters

By general consensus, the first hurdle would be The English Patient. “That’s not exactly action-packed” at the best of times, Matt Raub noted, let alone when screened after five other movies and, rather cruelly, at midnight. Everyone made it through the night – and through a morning exercise session led by the unique Richard Simmons – but shortly before noon on Friday, Raub became the first casualty. Photograph: Ben Walters

“23 hours and 56 minutes in, I nodded off,” he confessed. “I opened my eyes back up and the judge is just putting his hand on my shoulder…” He was followed at 3.20pm by Jeff Jones, who succumbed to an acute fit of the giggles, and at 8.35pm, Crazy Legs made a graceful voluntary exit, having made it to the end of Fletch. It was West Side Story that sapped his will, he reported. “No matter how much you want to stay awake, dance-fighting is not the answer to anything.” Photograph: Ben Walters

Friday night passed without further casualties. Saturday afternoon found the captive audience playing host to Broadway’s most celebrated animated corpse when the star of the Young Frankenstein musical lumbered by to watch the original movie. It was followed by The Sound of Music. Standing at the far end of the room, eyes dutifully glued to the Von Trapps, Claudia Wavra said she was tired of musicals. “Action movies are better. It’s louder.” Photograph: Ben Walters

But she was just marking time anyway. “I always say the first three days are the boring days.” In any case, she roused herself to join the others in a ‘Do-Re-Mi’ singalong. Sunday morning took a grave toll. Jose Feliciano dropped off at 4.35am. “I tried the ice trick” – putting ice in his pants to shock himself into wakefulness – “but it failed me.” Photograph: Ben Walters

He was followed by Jerry Cavallaro and Cheryl Jones at 8.21am and 10.52am respectively. Only Claudia and Suresh Joachim made it to three-day mark. Sunday evening found both going strong, however, taking the high-decibel explosions of The Bourne Identity in stride along with the nocturnal Times Square traffic that flowed on all sides of them. Photograph: Ben Walters

Curled on a sofa, Claudia was in good spirits. “I was not surprised that Suresh and I survived. We spoke on the first day and said, ‘Okay, we both are the last ones.’ We have the practice.” Nestled behind a pile of food and drink wrappers, she was effusive in her praise of the sponsors. “They pamper our ass! It’s wonderful. They are our friends.” Is she familiar with Stockholm Syndrome? She frowned. Matt Damon punches someone. She twigs. “Hahaha! No, I don’t think so.” Photograph: Ben Walters

Suresh stood on the other side of the room. Bunching his fists and bobbing, he was a little jittery: “I hold 55 world records. I don’t like to sit.” He knew the score, and had both tips and warnings. “Sometimes I take my full stamina and give blasts to my eyes,” he said. “After four days, you’re programmed. You just keep on going. It’s dangerous – after five days you go crazy. I’ve seen it.” Photograph: Ben Walters

By Monday morning, the strain was showing. As the end credits rolled for Annie – another singalong! – Claudia’s eyes were drooping. Her method was to remain fully awake, if low-energy, throughout. Suresh, who embraced napping, was by now even more enervated. As soon as the credits ended, he dashed for the bathroom tent, then dove onto a sofa, where assistants covered him in three blankets – roughly one for each minute of sleep he could expect before they woke him. Photograph: Ben Walters

Claudia reported that she had been on the verge of hallucinating, but the doctor judged her safe to continue. “They gave me a bagel with jam. I don’t like bagels.” She was finding English more challenging, and was tiring of “all the popcorn movies”. Was she wondering what she was doing there at all? “I know why I’m doing this,” she said. “$10,000. I just started part-time study and I need $15,000. That’s why I’m here. I need the money.” Photograph: Ben Walters

There was no doubting either contender’s determination. On Tuesday morning, as the five day, 23 minute deadline approached, both media and former contestants gathered. “David Blaine is a wuss compared to the two people in the plexiglass barn!” Crazy Legs insisted. This was confirmed when, the pair broke the record – securing joint title benefits and $10,000 each – and decided to add a 57th feature to their tally for good measure. Photograph: Ben Walters

It was Thelma & Louise, a copy of which was personally delivered by Susan Sarandon. Both were plainly exhausted by now, Suresh alert but stubbly, sunken-eyed and apparently verging on the manic. Claudia seemed simply shattered, struggling to speak at all, let alone in English. By the time the movie reached its final scene, that Grand Canyon plunge must have looked inviting. Photograph: Ben Walters

With a pack of cameras arrayed across the room, a publicist shepherded the two survivors to a position under the clock – “without taking your eyes off the screen!” – to secure a good climactic photo op. As the final credits rolled, they had notched up five days, three hours and ten minutes, beating the previous record by two hours and 47 minutes. Together they held the trophy aloft, then Suresh punched the air and, bizarrely, chanted “USA! USA!” Photograph: Ben Walters

Claudia smiled and tried to keep her head upright. “How do you feel?” a reporter asked her. “Zzzzz,” she replied. Photograph: Ben Walters