Rediscovering Who after 30 years was a cool experience

My two little monsters are aged nearly five and nearly seven. It was their first glimpse of the Daleks – Emily does an uncanny impression of a Dalek intoning “No!” – and naturally they loved it.

Their concentration – they were glued to the box for practically the film’s length – was in stark contrast to our Easter trip to our local multiplex to see The Croods, during which Emily twice loudly inquired “When is 
this film going to end?” as she stuffed her face with popcorn.

I’ve always seen cinema as a form of expedition. Exploring some directors’ movies is like journeying up the Amazon and its tributaries; you never quite know where you will end up.

But it’s all out there to discover if you have the time and the inclination.

Most parents take their responsibilities seriously. The missus and I are draconian about the content of film and television.

We ration TV viewing and certain kids’ films are not to be found on our shelves. We do, however, own a considerable selection of Barbie movies but the less said about that, the better.

Feeding inquiring young minds is a mighty responsibility. I’ve toyed with offering up the classics of Chaplin and Keaton (though Laurel and Hardy’s slapstick went down well) 
and cannot wait to try out the Marx Brothers on my girls.

I don’t want to foist my youthful fads on my children. But I well remember sitting on my Dad’s knee watching innumerable John Wayne Westerns.

And if cinema truly is the great art form of the 20th century then the Western is surely its greatest (and earliest) achievement.

Watching films in the shared environment of a darkened movie theatre is what cinema is all about.

I’m not one for other people’s “best of” lists (though mine is constantly evolving) but occasionally it’s necessary to be given a nudge in a new or different direction.

My lifelong love of motion pictures can be divided into several chapters. One of 
them – I was in my teens – was dominated by Peter Cushing.

Thirty-odd years later I’m rediscovering him vicariously through two little girls who have yet to meet him for the first time.

Call it benign corruption but there is something magnificent about watching the lights go on in children’s eyes. The trick is in being able – or at least attempting – to answer the barrage of questions that inevitably arise – and in keeping the flame of knowledge burning once it’s been lit.

As my eldest Abigail said of Cushing’s Who, “That was really good, Dad. Is it as old as you?” Sometimes old things just happen to be cool.