The late 1980s. Luke’s house, the living room. His Mum pulls a video from a generic middle-class faux leather case.
The film starts playing and Luke and I, at 5, maybe 6 years old, sit enthralled as a demon planet emerges from space to devour an entire world. 90 minutes of heavy metal violence later, Unicron’s decapitated head becomes the new moon of Cybertron.
My fragile infant brain is broken. We watch it again.