Let’s make films real again.
I was eight when Blockbuster was at its peak in 2004. I remember the smell of popcorn (not quite the kind you’d get at the cinema, but a cheap and cheerful bagged alternative) just as vividly as the blue and yellow logo plastered up and down the isles of our local store. Me and my dad would nip in on the odd Friday for a few films, usually an action for him, a rom-com for my mum and for me something weird and probably inappropriate for my age. Then despite spending the weekend watching and...
