Haunted by that old black dog at the moment, and Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner 2049 – though extraordinary – didn’t make me feel much better today. It even has a big black dog padding around the debris field of one attempt to pulverise Harrison Ford. Its claws clicking on the floor, as it laps up puddled Scotch.
Set 100 years after I was born, the film is a sci-fi nativity story, bleak, violent and, by its own admission, soulless – particularly if you happen to be a replicant.
So what heaven to walk out of the Olympic Cinema in Barnes and smell the autumn leaves, see the swans and other wildfowl on the pond, and contemplate the fact that – despite the fires still raging in California, creating skies akin to those in the film and showering friends’ houses there with ash, we still have it in our hands to turn this juggernaut of ours around.