Claire Black: ‘I can’t follow fantasy epics and R has no clue when it comes to thrillers’

‘I’VE never seen this before,” I said.

“What do you mean?” asked R.

“I’ve never seen this bit. I didn’t know they all made a pact like that.”

“What do you mean? They are the Fellowship. The film is called The FELLOWSHIP Of The Ring.”

Cue a spat about how it was impossible that I hadn’t seen the scene right at the beginning of the Lord Of The Rings trilogy that puts the rest of the six hours plus into some kind of context, when I have, in fact, watched said trilogy at least five times. I agree it is slightly perplexing. But I swear, I had no recollection. Nothing.

The next night The Bourne Supremacy was on TV. (This is the season referred to in our household as PFPP – post-festival pre-payday – we are watching a lot of films at home.)

“I know we’ve seen this one, but it’s good, let’s watch it again,” I said.

“Have I seen that one? Is this the one where his girlfriend gets shot? Or is it the one where what’s-her-name finds out that what’s-his-name is actually a baddie? No, hang on, is he a baddie? Or is she a baddie?” was R’s response.

Oh, for the love of The Maltese Falcon, what are you supposed to do with that? To clarify that would ruin every plot-line in all three of the Bourne films.

Genre incompatibility. That’s what we’re dealing with here. I can’t follow fantasy epics and R has no clue when it comes to thrillers or spy movies. “Is Boromir from Rohan or Gondor?”, “Who’s side is he on, again?”. The downside of this is that every time we watch either genre, one of us has to be prepared to pause it at least twice to explain what’s going on, who is who, and to kick off the argument about how many times it’s going to be necessary to explain these details. Not great for narrative suspense. The upside is that we can watch these films apparently endlessly each time as if for the first time, thereby eradicating the need to ever buy any more DVDs.

I thought it was only pre-schoolers who could do this. I’ve got some friends who view their toddler’s viewing habits as a form of mental torture. “I just can’t watch Ice Age again. I just can’t,” wept a sleep-deprived pal down the phone as the theme music played in the background and her three-year-old giggled maniacally.

Of course, I must accept my share of the blame. I took a mean streak and made R cancel the digital package we had which included the movie channels. This means the only channels we have now basically repeat the same films until you just give in and watch Bulletproof Monk for the third time.

But it’s not only that.

Certain films can be relied upon to make me feel a certain way and that’s what makes me watch them over and over. Need to sleep? The first five minutes of any James Bond film pre-Casino Royale. Like a charm. Need to bawl? Almodovar’s All About My Mother. Every. Single. Time. Need a (celluloid) cuddle? Star Wars or Kiss Me Kate. Simple.

And one day, just maybe, I’ll work out why they don’t just chuck that ring back into the river where it came from.