My first movie
experience was almost Star Wars. I was six years old and my father wanted
to take me to this new science fiction film. But my mother, being a responsible
parent, stopped him and said that he should watch it first to see if it would
be appropriate for someone at my age. So my dad took my brother to see it
while my mom took me to see Benji. Yep, my mother’s sense of
responsibility made Benji my first movie rather than Star Wars. Damn you
good parenting!
My mom, sister and I
got home first and we were in the kitchen when the door opened and my brother
rushed in with his eyes wide. My father was right behind him, his own
eyes wide as well. It was as though he had just seen a ghost doing
gymnastics. He told her that I had to go see this movie. Not
should, had. Still being the responsible parent, my mother
asked if it was age appropriate, and he vigorously nodded his head.
Soon after, we went to
see it at the Stuart theater in downtown Lincoln. It was a former stage
theater from the days of grand productions. It looked more like an opera
house, complete with deep cushioned, plush, red seats, and etched mirrors in
the lobby; and it played only the biggest movies. I remember only bits
and pieces of watching it. In particular, I remember that I didn’t know
what “terminate” meant, and when my mom explained that it meant to kill, I
couldn’t believe they were thinking about killing Princess Leia. It was
the first time I remember feeling fear. I didn’t understand yet that the
good guys general win these movies; my exposure to television thus far had
often been football, and in that, either side could win. So I truly
didn’t know that the rebels would win. (Oh, spoiler alert.)
I also remember going
to the bathroom during the scene when Obiwan Kenobi turned off the tractor
beam, so I didn’t understand why the characters were able to leave. For
some reason I remember another older black kid in the bathroom with me. I
think I remember this because it was one of the first times I was using a
bathroom alone, and I didn’t know how I was supposed to react to a stranger in
a bathroom. I wasn’t nervous with fear, I was nervous about my manners.
Am I supposed to look? Am I not? I think men and women react
differently to bathrooms; we never get over our fear of looking at one another
while in them.
After the movie, I
remember going to the apartment buildings my dad owned and jumping in the
pool. We had taken a family friend, Jon, and he and my brother Trevor
were reenacting scenes, especially the one in the trash compactor as though the
walls were going to smash them in the pool, and the snake creature was
underneath. I remember one point when Trevor said, “we’re all going to be
a lot thinner” and Jon responded, “At least I won’t have to iron my clothes
anymore!”
In the years to come,
it would prove to have an impact on me as strong as my dad predicted;
especially with the toys. My best friend Ryan and I collected as many
figures as we could and created stories with them. This became my first
efforts at storytelling.
And then my father
purchased making of documentaries on laser disk. I began watching them
over and over and over. I was obsessed with how people made images that
went on the screen; how storytelling could be visually explained, and how those
images stirred the emotions.
