Ah, movies.
Fillums. Stardust memories. The
cinema.
Da plex. Or, as I knew it from a long time ago, in a squeaky seat far, far away, The Show. I wish I had a hundred dollar bill for every movie I ever went and saw. I wish every hot dog I ever ate there wasn't still in my body, hidden somewhere. I remember the first movie Loretta, my mom, ever took me to, and, yes, it was a James Bond film (
Thunderball, baby). I started keeping my ticket stubs many years ago, just to remind me where and when I saw something. I started collecting movies and movie material when I was a freshman in high school, and haven't stopped collecting either since. I may have missed a good chance to be fit and trim in childhood, but I know the rest of the kids in the neighborhood missed a whole bunch of really cool movies when movies were
especially cool (late '60's to upper-mid '70's); I can go to the gym anytime I want, but they'll never make up for all that lost dream time movies can so magically bestow on a
youngin'. I was taken to R-rated films when most kids weren't allowed to see anything PG (or, GP, as it was known, back in the day). Loretta regularly...misrepresented...my physical health to the nuns of St.
Cajetan in order to a) attend the White
Sox Opening Day, and b) attend whatever interesting-looking film was opening downtown (I am absolutely confident I was the only 10 year-old in America - most likely, Europe as well - who was taken out of school to see the premiere of
Hitler-The Last 10 Days). I've seen all five
Planet of the Apes films in one glorious, all-day sitting (still my one day record), and the first three
Star Wars films the same way. A reasonably hot date and I walked out of the revival of a Marilyn Monroe film and saw the Best Picture of 1971, instead (that would be
The French Connection, ahem). Most appropriately, I saw my first foreign film in London. I've caught a Woody Allen film in Japan, a Jerry Lewis film in Switzerland, and a James Bond film in Paris. I once flew across two states to see a James Bond premiere, because there isn't a single reasonably good movie theater in all of New Mexico. I broke family tradition early and decisively in turning to Pepsi when 6 said bottle caps got you admission to special Wednesday matinees one eventful summer.
I've seen movies absolutely everywhere - palaces bigger than
Wal-Mart, boutique screens as small as a minivan, suburban
plexes, neighborhood screens, ghetto haunts, drive-ins, art houses, in-house university theaters, screening rooms, dollar screens, in flight, on Navy ships, in seven foreign countries, in my basement on Super-8, just about everywhere on video, and on three bedsheets strung together and hung across the doors of my 2-car garage to watch in full
Panavision and wondrous Technicolor...you guessed it,
Thunderball, on glorious pirated 16-mm. And I think I remember the name of every movie theater I ever visited in the City of Chicago, which I find more and more important with each passing year, because so many of them no longer exist. And if I don't stop typing right now, the memories will keep
unspooling. But we here at
Danse Macabre invite you, fellow movie
connoisseur, to peruse the following link and see how many stardust memories come forward for
you ...
100!
Ah, movies. Fillums. Stardust memories. The cinema. Da plex. Or, as I knew it from a long time ago, in a squeaky seat far, far away, The Show. I wish I had a hundred dollar bill for every movie I ever went and saw. I wish every hot dog I ever ate there wasn't still in my body, hidden somewhere. I remember the first movie Loretta, my mom, ever took me to, and, yes, it was a James Bond film (Thunderball, baby). I started keeping my ticket stubs many years ago, just to remind me where and when I saw something. I started collecting movies and movie material when I was a freshman in high school, and haven't stopped collecting either since. I may have missed a good chance to be fit and trim in childhood, but I know the rest of the kids in the neighborhood missed a whole bunch of really cool movies when movies were especially cool (late '60's to upper-mid '70's); I can go to the gym anytime I want, but they'll never make up for all that lost dream time movies can so magically bestow on a youngin'. I was taken to R-rated films when most kids weren't allowed to see anything PG (or, GP, as it was known, back in the day). Loretta regularly...misrepresented...my physical health to the nuns of St. Cajetan in order to a) attend the White Sox Opening Day, and b) attend whatever interesting-looking film was opening downtown (I am absolutely confident I was the only 10 year-old in America - most likely, Europe as well - who was taken out of school to see the premiere of Hitler-The Last 10 Days). I've seen all five Planet of the Apes films in one glorious, all-day sitting (still my one day record), and the first three Star Wars films the same way. A reasonably hot date and I walked out of the revival of a Marilyn Monroe film and saw the Best Picture of 1971, instead (that would be The French Connection, ahem). Most appropriately, I saw my first foreign film in London. I've caught a Woody Allen film in Japan, a Jerry Lewis film in Switzerland, and a James Bond film in Paris. I once flew across two states to see a James Bond premiere, because there isn't a single reasonably good movie theater in all of New Mexico. I broke family tradition early and decisively in turning to Pepsi when 6 said bottle caps got you admission to special Wednesday matinees one eventful summer.
I've seen movies absolutely everywhere - palaces bigger than Wal-Mart, boutique screens as small as a minivan, suburban plexes, neighborhood screens, ghetto haunts, drive-ins, art houses, in-house university theaters, screening rooms, dollar screens, in flight, on Navy ships, in seven foreign countries, in my basement on Super-8, just about everywhere on video, and on three bedsheets strung together and hung across the doors of my 2-car garage to watch in full Panavision and wondrous Technicolor...you guessed it, Thunderball, on glorious pirated 16-mm. And I think I remember the name of every movie theater I ever visited in the City of Chicago, which I find more and more important with each passing year, because so many of them no longer exist. And if I don't stop typing right now, the memories will keep unspooling. But we here at Danse Macabre invite you, fellow movie connoisseur, to peruse the following link and see how many stardust memories come forward for you ... 100!
