I’ve always loved the cinema. It started with the first movie I ever went to see. My dad took me to the grand old, art deco Odeon that used to sit in central Leicester to watch the newly re-issued Jungle Book. It blew me away. The deep reaching perspective of Kipling’s jungle in the credits. The moody atmosphere that seemed to lurk in the opening few scenes and the sheer, wild delight that took its place until a certain tiger cornered a boy amongst dying trees, the flames spread and I was made to believe a heroic slob of a bear had died.