Blood.

Rambo was a brutal tale of vicious cruelty and unspeakable horror, and yet I left the cinema smiling. Is there something wrong with me, the film, or both?

And in other movie news, [Warning: There Will Be Spoilers] I went to a lunch time session of There Will Be Blood today with Kate and a gaggle of senior citizens. And I've got to say, what it is with old people these days? They gripe and moan about the poor manners of today's youth, but whose mobile phone was that jangling away at the very key climactic moment of the film?! And who was that ANSWERING THE PHONE as a man was BLUDGEONED TO DEATH with a bowling pin? And who was that loudly REPEATING "Hello, hello?" down the line as he struggled to overcome the poor reception within the cinema? It wasn't me, I can tell you. And after several furious glares and a terse, "Seriously?!" finally got the old man to close his phone, I turned back to the screen to get one line of dialogue and the credits were rolling!

There Was Almost Blood.

Well, not really. I'm quite a non-confrontational person, but way to sabotage the emotional climax of the film. I'm always surprised when people answer their phones in cinemas. Especially when it's a member of the older generation who are supposed to be paragons of politeness. I guess for them it's just techno-fear most of the time though – the device controlling them instead of the other way around – and they actually would turn it off... if they could only work out how. Sigh.

Actually, speaking of irritations you'll see Only At The Movies, I've never understood the need for the torch-lit patrols an employee is seemingly required to walk at regular intervals throughout a session. Because it's not at all distracting, is it – someone walking around a darkened room waving a torch all over the place – and sometimes all it takes is one distracted glance away from the screen before you're scratching your head asking, "What was that about Rosebud?"

Are they checking for termites? Fires? Escaped convicts? Terrorists who've snuck to unleash hell on the 9:35 session of Love Actually? Or is it just to let us know that it may be dark, children, but don't even think about putting your feet on the seats or taking out any non-Candy Bar contraband you've smuggled in, because we will catch you and we will be crackin' skulls.

I'm sure it's some form of legal bottom-covering madness, but I can't for the life of me think what?

Actually, another bit of blood-related movieness just occurred to me: if you haven't already heard, Sweeny Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street is a MUSICAL! I had absolutely no idea as I hate musicals and try to be as ill-informed regarding them as possible. All I heard was Tim Burton, Johnny Depp, Alan Rickman, Helena Bonham Carter and that was all I needed to hear. If only I'd probed a little deeper I might have learned that the film was based on a musical, and that right from Scene One the characters would be swanning around singing most of their lines. Argh! Even Alan Rickman the magnificent! No Alan, please, NO! Don't do IT! ARGH! Thankfully Alan maintained his dignity by keeping his musical numbers to a minimum, but still.

It may not have been the horror film Tim Burton expected it to be, but oh yes, a HORROR IT WAS!