Continuing our series in which writers revisit childhood movie passions, a freshly oiled Arnold Schwarzenegger battles a camel and James Earl Jones in a wig in a surprisingly violent and fleshy fantasy The best arts and entertainment during self-isolationThe pirated VHS copy of Conan the Barbarian that I cherished when I was 12 was cruddy and discoloured even before I wore it out with twice-daily viewings. The image, tinted jaundice-yellow in some places and seasickness-green in others, was striped with thorny lines of static that made you feel as though you were watching the movie through barbed wire. I knew it wasn’t supposed to look like that because I’d already seen it on the big screen a year earlier. One afternoon in September 1982, I had persuaded my father to take me after school to the ABC cinema in South Woodford, east London. I gave the movie the hard sell: it had Arnold Schwarzenegger, the goofy muscleman we’d liked in Cactus Jack, as well as lots of whopping great swords and a baddie who could turn into a snake! I showed Dad the glossy stills printed in Starburst magazine, and waved my copy of the novelisation in his face. In fact, there was only one detail I kept hidden from him: the AA certificate, which prohibited anyone under the age of 14 from seeing the film.
I wasn’t fazed. I wore my burgundy leather jacket that day and stocked up on Juicy Fruit in preparation for some emphatic gum-chewing. Those factors alone would surely be enough to add three years to my age. The danger as I saw it was not that I would be refused entry but that I might very well be mistaken for James Dean.