My first time at the cinema is etched into my memory. Entering a large dark room, hand in hand with my mum, a screen bigger than my bedroom looming above me. I was there for my friend's 7th birthday party, and we were going to watch The Water Horse. My memories from entering the cinema to leaving it are blurred along with the overall plot of the film, but the scene the spurred my exit I can still recall to this day: the baby water horse raising its head out of the toilet. Seeing this played out on a screen larger than my brain could comprehend was too much, my eyes shut and my mouth opened in horror. My mum swiftly carried me out of the gloom into bright sunlight, with a new found fear of toilets that would stay with me for the rest of my childhood. However, it did not surprisingly put me off cinemas - although it does sum up the cinematic experience pretty well: immense, awe-inspiring, and unforgettable.
- Amelie Baker
It’s hard to recall going to the cinema at a young age but there is one movie has always stuck with me. In 2010, at the age of six my obsession with minions began with Despicable Me. Everything about it - from the soundtrack (shoutout to Pharrell Williams) to the three young girls who I thought resembled me and my sisters – stood out to me and kids around the world. Ever since that cinema trip, I have seen every film from the franchise at the cinema, I have gained a substantial collection of Minion merchandise, and filled my social media feed with the classic Facebook mum Minion memes as a sad, grown adult.
- Emma Stephenson
My first cinema memory was on my sixth birthday to see ‘Where the Wild Things Are.’ While at first overwhelmed by the size of a cinema screen, the loudness of the speakers, and the darkness of the room, let alone the turbulent beginning to this film, this began my love for the cinema. Having been submerged into a whole new world when watching a film, the feeling you get after leaving the cinema is unlike anything else. My first cinema trip stuck with me because ‘Where the Wild Things Are’ immerses you into the mind of the child Max while traversing a mature emotional journey. It’s uncanny and scary at times, especially to a six-year-old, but it packs a punch with its soundtrack, visuals, and overall emphasis on learning the importance of love and community.
- Tiahna Fox
At first, I leapt at the chance to recount my earliest memories of one of my favourite places in the world: the cinema. But as I sat down to write, something unexpected hit me: those memories are frustratingly elusive. I have hazy inklings of which films I may have seen, vague flashes of who accompanied me, perhaps family or friends, but no moment stands out as a pivotal, life-changing experience that would foreshadow my later, deep love for the medium. And yet, in that realisation, I find something even more intriguing.
As someone who can confidently call themselves a film lover, who collects tickets from my frequent trips to the cinema and compulsively (and somewhat obnoxiously) logs each movie on Letterboxd, I’ve always assumed I could pinpoint the exact moment my passion for cinema was sparked. But now, I’m left wondering: Where did it actually come from? The answer, it seems, is a mystery. It’s likely that my love for film grew gradually, blossoming over countless visits to the cinema, sometimes for social outings, other times simply to escape. And in that slow burn, I find a fascinating truth about cinema itself. You don’t have to be swept off your feet in the first instance. The magic of the medium is its ability to envelop you over time, like a quiet but persistent force, until one day you realise you’ve been captivated all along. Cinema doesn’t demand immediate awe, it patiently invites you to fall in love, moment by moment, film by film.
- Jess Mooney