Ginger Nuts of Horror
When I saw the first entry in Jim McLeod’s new blog ‘The Film That Made Me’ I became aroused (in a cinematic sense of course) and asked him if I could also contribute, as I’ve been a lover of film since I was a small thing with an excitable imagination and a strange desire to dress up. He said that yes, I most definitely could. I was very flattered and rubbed my hands with glee. Then I started to reel (!) under the enormity of the task of choosing just my one and only, all-time, most magnificent, most affecting movie ever. Nevertheless I resolved to give it a go. Entering into the subtly lit and erotically scented ambience of my inner sanctum, I excitedly began perusing my wall of DVDs. All of a sudden I was horrified by the huge and almost mythical venture that I had foolishly chosen to undertake. I have approximately 500 movies in various formats on my shelves and now it seemed as if every one of them had, in an unguarded instant, gained a voice and physical form and was nudging the others out of the way with unnecessary force and shouldering themselves into my forebrain. Crying: “Me Sir, Oh please Sir! Choose ME Sir! I’ll do anything!” This was too much to bear. HOW COULD I CHOOSE BUT ONE?
This post contains epic spoilers for the film RoboCop – as in, it’s likely to spoil your 20th re-watch, let alone your first viewing. For this reason, and because the 1987 movie RoboCop is objectively the best movie ever made, if you haven’t seen it, go and see it right now, for the love of God. Then come back once you’ve scraped your brain off the wall and deposited it back into your skull, okay?
Oh, there’s also spoilers for Lethal Weapon, Face/Off, Die Hard, First Blood, Don’t Look Now, and in a cruel twist of fate, the TV show ER. But fuck them, they’re not RoboCop.