The circling BMXs, stucco cul-de-sacs and intimidating federal forces from E.T; the water plant, resting in the horizon like Devil’s Tower from Close Encounters; the street-level, frenetic glimpses of violence from War of the Worlds; the splintered family dynamics of Pretty Much Every Steven Spielberg Film. There’s a lot of hat-tipping (or is that fedora tipping?) to the great director, crammed into the film’s nimble 29 minutes.

Butler said the relationships were consensual: “It is deeply revisionist, and frankly just wrong, for anyone to suggest otherwise.” What happens: A glitzy mirrored coffin, that’s what! In addition, the band shine a torch on a man made of mirrors and drive a 4x4with a mirrorball on the windscreen. The song’s called ‘Reflektor’, geddit?Why it’s great: It literally sounds like ‘The Winner Takes It All’ by ABBA. With an interlude that goes a bit Avicii, it’s a barmy and bizarre pop masterclass. Win Takes It All? In the 3Arena the show’s opening act, the Canadian singer Feist, made no mention of the allegations during her performance. She displayed a poster on her merchandise stall pledging to donate the proceeds from her sales to Women’s Aid, an Irish charity that helps victims of domestic abuse. Her publicist did not return a request for comment.

Maguire’s solution to the dilemma was to defer learning details of the allegations against Butler until after the show. “I’d much rather not know now. I think once in I’ll be in the zone. I’ll read about it when I get home. I’ll be upset.” Taking to the stage to deafening cheers from a near capacity arena, Butler thanked the audience “from the bottom of my heart” for attending. It was the closest he came to alluding to the allegations.But what was behind the sudden increase of budget? Well, it’s because I knew that at the earliest opportunity I’d head to the merch stand and instantly halve my weekend cash to “invest” in an Arcade Fire T-shirt. They were headlining the Saturday night and had just released the best album that I had ever heard. Jonze’s film offers some assurance to balance this melancholy, it is less tied to the idea of home and fraternity than some of Spielberg and his suburban imitators. Watching it now, for all its nostalgia, Scenes From the Suburbs, seems more of a reflective piece, not a call to scroll deep into your Facebook profile and feel guilty. It doesn’t pine for those friendships to return, but considerately mourns how they came to be outgrown.