Movie Night

For algorithmic reasons I can’t explain, a Facebook event appeared to me the other day, and it piqued my interest.  It was for a viewing of North by Northwest at the local community center.  I immediately sent word to my father.  This seemed right up his alley, and when he marked that he was “going,” I did the same.  This morning, mother was excited to go when I stopped over for coffee, and I felt a little bad about leaving Mark and E home for it, but I’d honestly rather just go with them (sorry, guys.)  Why?  Well, and no offense to my mother either, but I have lovely memories of movies with my father.

The first movie I remember going to was when I was in maybe Pre-K or Kindergarten.  My school held a movie night, and we all piled into chairs in the gymnasium to watch a film on the projector.  They gave us cans of pop and little paper bags of popcorn.  It felt special, like it would be going to a real movie theater, which I think I had probably already done by that point.  I don’t recall, however; this is the first movie I remember.  It was about a dog.  I think it was Benji, only because I can’t find another dog-themed movie from the time period.  Dad might remember, but it was 35 years ago so let’s not hold out hope.

The second movie I remember seeing with my father was several years later, in 1999.  A couple years earlier, a show premiered on a new station called Comedy Central, and that show was called South Park.  Dad and I both watched it…separately, mind you.  Never together.  Which was never considered when the movie came out.  Now, I was only 16, so he had to take me to go see it because it was rated R.  We assumed it would be a great time, because we both liked the show: the cable show.  The “censored” show.

By the time they got to the “Uncle F**ker” song, there was deep discomfort on both sides of the armrest.  I remember trying very hard to focus on the movie and not the fact that my father was hearing the same raunchy jokes that were hitting my eardrums.  I don’t think either of us laughed much during it, despite finding it funny.  I think we were too scared.

Now, I am thinking today’s excursion would liken itself more to the Benji experience than the South Park one.  I am expecting a large room with a big TV and bags of popcorn.  I am expecting a movie my father and I both enjoy, and to spend time with him and my mom without thinking “Jesus Christ why couldn’t I have come seen this with Kevin?”  We like Hitchcock, and we thankfully know what to expect.

Anyway, I have some life to attend to before I can sojourn to a Cary Grant flick, so I must bid you adieu until Thursday.  Ha.  Hopefully I actually make the Thursday deadline this week.  We shall see, won’t we? 

Happy Monday.

Me watching a movie, circa ’87