I began my relationship with the Narnia series as a five year old, when the BBC miniseries of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe played on TV in New Zealand. My dad taped it, and I used to watch it over and over again throughout my childhood. I was also a big fan of the books, and I’m fairly sure that over the years I’ve read all of them, and never been disappointed.
When the first film came out a couple of years ago, I have to admit that I was disappointed by it. It just didn’t hold the magical appeal of the books or the BBC miniseries. I’m not one to hold grudges or write things off though, so I went to see Prince Caspian last night with my good friend Sheida. Within the first two minutes I was hooked. My heart was beating hard, I was sitting on the edge of my seat, nudging Sheida every 30 seconds, “phwoar did you see that? Freaky man! What’s going to happen next??” There was a moment when the youngest girl Lucy almost slipped off a ledge, and I swear my heart just about exploded – and that wasn’t even a big event!
I don’t want to give any of it away because you all should see it, but seriously, this film has me believing in the magic of cinema again. Prince Caspian has my vote to join the fantasy hall of fame alongside Lord of the Rings. And the best part? Not Aslan, the battle scenes or the scenery (which was New Zealand at its finest), but the villains. The villains were a bunch of conniving, backstabbing, deceitful and swarthy Spaniards – which made for quite a refreshing change in these days of “hmmm who should we have as the bad guys?” “Arabs of course!” Know what I mean?