You Can Phone Home Again

Recently, I read a review of the movie Transformers. This particular critic said that it was the greatest time he has had at the theater in fifteen years. His comment got me to thinking about movies and their importance in our lives. Movies by themselves are really inconsequential in the “grand scheme” of things. They are a form of art that performs the public service of escapism. They allow us a brief vacation from reality or in some instances; they remind us of who we are. I was jealous that I wasn’t in the theater during this particular showing of Transformers because I wanted so much to have THAT experience where the audience is captivated and cheering the screen. It gives me “goose bumps” just thinking about how fun movies can be. Then it hit me. I have had that experience and it was with an unlikely person, my mother.

My mom isn’t a lover of film and truthfully, she never appreciated movies the way I have. However, she did appreciate my love for film. She has taken me to see some of the all-time greatest movies ever made. I remember seeing The Empire Strikes Back, Return of the Jedi, The Muppet Movie, Superman I and II, and The Dark Crystal. Taking me to a movie was a departure from her normal routine of work and I think she liked the idea of the two of us hanging out for two hours. I miss those times. During the summer of 1982 a young boy realized just how special movies can be. My Mother grabbed me from my grandmother’s house on a hot afternoon and little did I know that E.T. would be THAT film experience for me.

To say E.T. might be the perfect movie is an understatement. It has endured the test of time and is still regarded as one of the best films to hit Cineplex’s. For me, it is more personal. My mother and I entered the theater and it was crowded. We sat in the front of the theater and it didn’t matter to me because I was getting to spend time with the person I loved most in the world. She loaded me up with the “big bucket” of corn. I still purchase the big popcorn until this day. I had no idea what E.T. was about, all I knew is that I saw a kid flying a bike in the poster. I was more than exited to see flying bikes. When the movie started I was immediately captivated by a creature running around the forest as police chased him. I was also scared. I snuggled against my mom’s thigh looking for protection. As the movie went on, I would glance at my mom to see if she was interested and to my delight she never took her eyes off the screen. We both ate our popcorn slowly and this was tough for a fat kid like me because I was used to heaping it down my throat. Then it happened, the moment I’ll never forget. E.T. was close to certain death as he lay in a ditch. He was a pasty white and mumbling. I looked at my mother and saw her crying. I began to cry, but not because the cute, little alien was dying. I cried because it was the first time in my life I saw my mom as vulnerable. Frankly, it was refreshing because she was now human to me. She looked at me and smiled with tears in her eyes as if to tell me, “Look at us crying at a movie.” Yes, we were crying at a movie and it was a definitive and poetic moment in my life. My mom was human and not some Extra-Terrestrial.