I can so clearly remember standing outside our local cinema in the small Scottish town I grew up in, looking at the still images publicizing the film outside the cinema and being deeply, deeply upset by one particular image.
It was of a soldier in 19th century, British military uniform, run through the chest by a massive spear which protruded, bleeding from his back as he looked, horrified, straight ahead, presumably at the man who has just killed him.
The sadness on his face, the disbelief, the questioning look - all had an enormous impact on me as an eight year old boy. I dreamt about that image for years. I cried at the thought of what had happened. In fact it still captures my deep, deep revulsion for the pointlessness of war and violence between men.