I’m a big fan of Matt Damon’s and I must have proved that when I willingly handed over thirteen of the Queen’s pounds to watch him in The Martian. I say handed over; most of my interactions in this cinema were with computers. After trying and failing to purchase my ticket from the first self-service machine I stumbled upon – this particular one must have been allergic to the colour of my bank card – I found myself questioning every press of the touchscreen, terrified of making a pricey mistake. Rather pathetically, I asked a rare member of staff if ‘AD’ definitely stood for ‘Audio Description’. Ironically, their inaudible response warranted subtitles. I took a deep breath (just like Damon often has to in the film) and surrendered to Cameron’s Britain.