Last night I caught a few minutes of that Neo-Freudian Post Modernist Classic, ‘Terminator 2’. I remember that when it came out, that I had gone to see it at the cinema to see what all the fuss was about. The first thing that struck me when I saw out in the ‘burbs was that I seemed to be the only person over the age of 12 in attendance. Of course, I’ve attended numerous nightclubs since that day and so have become more familiar with that particular sneaking sensation, however, at the time it was a great shock.
I also remember the very first film I ever saw at the cinema. My brother and I were 4 and 5, and we were driven out of our rural backwater, into the thriving metropolis that is Frankston to see ‘Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs’. Thus, my fascination was the little people was kindled. What I remember most about that day was the absolute terror I felt at the wicked witch (whom I later had as my third grade teacher as it happened). I spent a lot of the time with my hands over my face. My brother, however, took a more pro-active approach. During the scene where Snow White is out in the woods and the Huntsman who has been hired to kill her is sneaking up behind her with his knife drawn and at the ready, a plaintive cry was heard. It had all become too much for my four year old brother who leapt to his feet and screamed: “RUN SNOW WHITE QUICKLY!!!!”
You could be forgiven for thinking that this outburst was simply the product of youthful naivety, but that’s where you’re wrong. To this day, my brother will gladly bark out instructions to people on the big screen. No one has bothered to tell him that it’s not really the done thing. Although I recall a particularly ugly confrontation at a screening of ‘Herbie Goes to Monte Carlo’ at the Somerville Mechanics Hall.
Suffice to say that my brother never got to find out what Herbie got up to in Monte Carlo.