Dated Movies I Saw with my Parents in First-Run Theaters
Not counting kiddie stuff like Disney, but movies they actually wanted to see and I got swept up because I was too old for a sitter but too young for them to trust me unsupervised. Mostly those “awkward” years, you may remember from your own experience.
Funny Girl (1968)–My mother adored Barbra Streisand, so when this hit the theaters in Houston, we had to make the pilgrimage. First-run movies rarely came to Baytown right off, unless they were westerns or war movies (make of that what you will). Anyway, my 12-year-old self mainly remembers liking the first half pre-intermission, where it was mostly humor and Fanny Brice leaving home. The second half, consisting of her failed marriage due to her charming husband’s gambling addiction, was a downer and I quickly lost interest. Plus, who ever heard of a movie that lasted over 2 1/2 hours? Not me, at that point.
The Unsinkable Molly Brown (1964)–I was eight. I remember in one part, Miss Unsinkable was on the Titanic and a section of iceberg lands on the deck right in front of her while she flattens herself against the wall in terror, to comedic effect. That’s the only thing I remember.
Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner (1967)–my first exposure to Earnest White People Talking About the Black Man Who’s Right There in the Room With Them, TYVM. I remember leaving the theater with us all feeling quite smug about our liberal selves (never mind if my older sister had brought the same challenge into our own home).
A Patch of Blue (1965)–a similar premise, but with blindness, working class small-mindedness, open prejudice, and a Cinderella story mixed in. Also, in black and white. I got more out of this movie when I saw it later in life. At the time, I just thought it was dumb that we had paid good money to watch a movie that looked the same as what was already on our TV set. There wasn’t even any blue in it! What a gyp.
Goodbye, Columbus (1969)–Since I was 13, this one came along at a much more opportune time in my stage of hormonal development. Presumably, my parents were drawn in by the Jewishness and stayed for the sex. Let’s just say I was not particularly riveted by the Jewishness. To this day, I still remember Ali McGraw snapping her bathing suit bottom at a public pool, and of course the under-the-table-meeting-her-parents scene.
Catch-22 (1970)–At 14, I wasn’t quite ready for the multitude of characters, cartoonish names, military absurdity, and surreal timeline flips (not to mention Nately’s whore, and what the hell was Art Garfunkel even doing in this, or any, movie?) I could have used someone providing some subtext, but my parents left the theater tight-lipped. Presumably, they were either horrified or as confused as I was. Most likely both, but it was one of those “we’ll discuss this later, between ourselves” moments that I was not privy to.
Alice’s Restaurant (1969)–Technically, this one wasn’t with both my parents, just my father. It happened when my mother was out of town on a business trip, and apropos of nothing, my father asked me, “Mike, would you like to go see “Alice’s Restaurant”?
At least three things about this question were completely precedent-breaking in the history of Me and My Father:
- He never before suggested activities with me, movies or otherwise.
- This movie was about as counterculture as it got at that time, and he was…decidedly not.
- This movie was rated “R”, minors not admitted without a parent or guardian. So by taking me, he was suddenly condoning my presence at whatever was about to follow.
So, you can imagine what was swirling through my adolescent brain. I said, “You know, there is some nudity in this movie.” What an idiot I was, in retrospect. TAKE THE WIN.
But he just smiled and said, “Son, there’s nothing I do that you can’t tell your mother about.” He was right, of course. They had a devoted, if unimaginative, middle-class marriage ’til death they did part.
So, feeling somewhat like what I imagined dropping acid would feel like (I wouldn’t know that feeling for six more years, but I had a fertile imagination), I found myself in a car with my father driving to see “Alice’s Restaurant”.
I do remember this movie, pretty much with crystal clarity, probably because its story is told in the song of the same name that has been played ad nauseum every year at Thanksgiving on groovy FM radio stations since its release. But even without that, I remember thinking as it unspooled across the darkened room, “MY FATHER is watching this. I am here with MY FATHER.”
After it was over, his only comment was, “That Thanksgiving meal they had was really elaborate!” But then: “I wonder who paid for all that.”
The implication being, of course, that only in the movies could a motley crew of hippies be able to afford anything remotely resembling such a feast. Never mind that Alice owned a restaurant. I mean, it’s right there in the title.
By this time, I was old enough to go to my own movies without subjecting my parents to my tastes. I do remember them dropping me off at the Brunson Theater in downtown Baytown to see “A Hard Day’s Night”, which I really loved despite the impenetrable Liverpudlian accents, except that the entire theater would erupt in shrill screams during every song. Turns out, there were maybe a handful of boys in a sea of 12-yr-old girls.
I never enjoyed odds like that again, but I was too young to act on it at the time.
saxsalon 