All The Right Movies

Long before there was a husband and kids; before cooking and cleaning and driving everyone and their best friend around; before dog and laundry and paying bills; before packing school lunches and making orthodontic appointments – there was watching movies – at the theatre, at the drive-in, at friends’ houses, at my house.

And even as life changed: childhood gave way to teendom; friends came and went; boyfriends passed through; adulthood took over – movies were the constant that remained. No matter what – I could always count on the fresh wave of cinema to continually wash over me and my life.

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Watching movies was an indelible part of my childhood. It was 1970-something when my father took me to see my first movie – Disney’s Fantasia. According to family lore, I was scared to death of the dancing brooms and Maleficent’s dragon incarnation – and we were forced to abandon the theatre mid-way through. Despite this rocky introduction to the world of cinema – it planted a seed that would inevitably blossom.

As a young child, there was a movie theatre a block away from the apartment we lived in. My mother would buy tickets for my brother and me, get us settled into our seats and then return home. When the movie was finished, we’d walk back home together.

I was five and my brother was two.

I have many memories of my entire family heading to the movie theatre – to see E.T.; to the drive-in where we saw Annie and Howard the Duck; sitting in the front row at Splash, craning our necks at Daryl Hannah in all her fishy splendour. Later it was Planes, Trains & Automobiles, Parenthood and Empire of the Sun. But it was The Goonies that changed my life. It was at this point in time that I realized kids mattered – what they did could be exciting and important – even in the eyes of adults.

Eventually, we came to an age where my parents would drop us at the theatre with our friends and we’d see whatever was popular: Desperately Seeking Susan; Back to the Future; Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. I remember waiting in line with my friend to see the blockbuster Three Men and a Baby only to discover tickets were sold out and that we’d have to see the lesser-known film She’s Having a Baby instead – a simple movie with a great soundtrack that I loved in 1988 and still love today.

The Lost Boys was the first time I attended a movie with a mixed group of girls and boys. While the girls shrieked in feigned fright, the boys guffawed loudly and tossed popcorn in our hair – it was heaven on earth. I went to see Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure on another “group date” – and the boy next to me knocked my popcorn to the floor in a poorly timed attempt to showcase his moves.

As a teenager, friendships varied and wavered yet movies were always involved. It was what we did on the weekends – besides hanging out at Burger King or driving up and down Windsor’s main street.

In high school I fell in with a movie crowd. Together we went down the David Lynch rabbit hole with the likes of Eraserhead, Blue Velvet and Wild at Heart; we fell in love with Goodfellas and were pleasantly surprised to discover that Martin Scorsese had a whole cache of older films under his belt which we eagerly devoured; we basked in the warm and fuzzy glow of John Hughes classics like Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club and Pretty in Pink. This was back when true love meant sitting on a glass table and skipping school could turn you into a hero.

Working part-time at Taco Bell, I sussed out another movie clique. Most weekend nights after our shifts were over, we’d walk across the parking lot to the cinema and watch whatever was playing – The Man Without a Face, Indecent Proposal, The Fugitive. If we worked the late shift, we’d pile into cars and head to my house. My parents were sound sleepers which meant we could watch our bootleg copies of Faces of Death in relative peace.

So many first, second and third dates linger in my memory – because of the movies we saw together. Films like I Love You to Death, The Silence of the Lambs, Cape Fear, Deceived, The Pelican Brief, The War.

Twenty-three years ago, my boyfriend eagerly introduced me to his best friend. He was hoping we would hit it off – and figured we would considering we were both movie lovers. It was at a house party where we first met – he eyed me suspiciously, uncertain if I was actually a film buff of his calibre. In order to clarify my level of movie knowledge he asked me the following question: “Who is the actor that starred in Gremlins?” I replied without hesitation: “Zach Galligan.” He nodded approvingly and a friendship was born. We still cinematically spar with one another – even after all these years.

Some people may think watching a movie is a singular experience. And at first glance – it truly is and can be. No one is looking at each other, conversation is non-existent or at a minimum. But there is a connection occurring – through this shared experience. You can agree, disagree, maybe not even see and feel the same things – but this is all part of the bond arising from the act of movie-watching.

Just as certain songs wield a particular time-travelling power – so do movies. Fade in and I’m instantly propelled back to a day, a place, a specific moment in time – where I’m sitting in a darkened theatre with my friends, my boyfriend, my parents, my brother. I’m once again a girl whose only life experience is gleaned from the movies she is watching; Conrad Jarrett taught me all I needed to know about gut-wrenching grief, Samantha Baker showed me true love and Jack Torrance presented the dangers of falling into professional doldrums.

My memories relating to movies are so vivid that I can typically calculate a film’s release date simply by thinking back to my life’s circumstances at the time of my watching it. Name a movie and I will tell you who I saw it with, where we were, what I ate for dinner that night.

A once frightened and teary toddler shaken to her core by the sight of dancing brooms has slowly but surely cultivated a passion for cinema that has grown to include a respect and admiration for all manner of movies.

Still a high priority in my life, movie-watching abides and continues to buoy me and inspire connections within my life. I have my horror movie friends, my comedy cronies, the chick flick crew, the foreign gang, fellow parents ready and willing to take a risk on Zootopia, Coco and Paddington.

Even my friends who don’t necessarily possess the movie-loving gene will humour me from time to time – and allow themselves to be dragged along on my cinematic whim; down strange and quirky roads leading to Boys Don’t Cry, Ghost World, Cloud Atlas and The Killing of a Sacred Deer.

Over the years, movie-watching has fulfilled a multi-layered purpose within my life – giving me experiences I may never know in real life, teaching me life-lessons not yet learned first-hand, providing a much-needed temporary escape or just pure unadulterated enjoyment. But one thing never changes.

When the theatre lights dim, the screen goes black and the credits begin – there is always a sense of excitement in the air.

Anything is possible.