I went to see Zodiac yesterday evening. Unfortunately, because everyone else had bailed on me, I had to go on my own. Rather foolishly I decided to park my car in Grangetown instead of nearer the cinema in the voucher parking zone. I normally park there during the day if I go into town, but on this occasion I threw caution to the wind.

Anyway, the film was excellent - well scripted, acted and directed. From a professional point of view, it's the first time I've seen a digital movie that doesn't belie its origins. It's a beautiful piece of work and definitely a David Fincher production - lots of ambient sodium lighting, anamorphic lens flares and deep shadows. Great stuff. Even though the film was long, it kept me enthralled throughout and I really felt part of the action. It reminded me of 13 Days, another excellent film, that seeks to retell a well-known true story while maintaining the tension. In some ways, the Zodiac killer is simply a catalyst for the film's real focus - the obsession with truth, male bonding and the procedure of law and detective investigations. I highly recommend it.

Coming out of the cinema at 11.45pm, I began the ten-minute walk to my car. Suddenly, I began to get the uneasy feeling I was still in the movie and things weren't as they seemed. The lighting on the dark streets of Cardiff was the same as that of the film, the pavements were empty and only a few cars were driving round. A few groups of drunken friends were shouting from different directions and I began to feel very afraid. As I made my way past the shadowy office blocks that loomed through the yellow glow of the street lamps, I began to relive the scene where the Zodiac murdered an innocent taxi driver. I quickened my pace but it didn't make me feel any less scared. As I made my way out of the town centre and towards the bridge into Grangetown, people started to appear walking on the other side of the road, clearly wandering aimlessly and doubling back suddenly as I was passing. Another man appeared out of an alley way and walked parallel with me. I'd never felt so threatened and intimidated in all the time I've lived in this city. Avoiding them all as much as possible, I raced to my car, locked the doors and drove home as quickly as I could.

Was it my imagination playing tricks? Had I been so affected by the film that I saw anonymous danger everywhere? Paranoia can breed such terror and distress.

I'll probably get the film on DVD.