We went to see Clash Of The Titans today at the Grovsenor. They do a 'watch with baby' screening at 10.30 in the morning, where you can take your child to see the latest films full of sex and violence and no one minds because they have all brought their kids as well. The price of the ticket includes a tea or coffee.
The film was ok. I have fond memories of the original 1981 effort with it's Ray Harryhausen monsters, mostly because I think that it was the first film that I ever saw a boob in. Yes, a boob, on the telly, in the afternoon during the Easter holidays. That's brilliant when you are a wee boy sitting on the floor surrounded by half-eaten Easter eggs.
Anyway, we sat in the dark, ranks of parents with their tiny tots, and my first impression of taking the kid to the cinema was, 'Christ's sake, its's a bit loud isn't it?' but I soon realised that there was a reason for this. All the babies were quiet for the first half hour or so, but then they started kicking off. You would hear, in an aisle somewhere behind you, a tiny 'waughh.' Then another, closer this time, away to the right. 'Waughh'. Then another, Jesus, it's closer this time, and another. Then another, 'Waughh!' God Almighty, it's right behind you! Then the giant scorpions attack with a thunderous soundtrack of crashing boulders, the screams of dying men and bombastic music. All the babies are stunned into silence.
Good job.
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