Baby Book
If I am to believe my Baby Book the first movie I ever saw in the theater was "The Empire Strikes Back". Whether it was my first or not it is the one I remember.
It was 1980 and I would have been five years old- a few months older than my boy is now. I remember the rather foreign feel of the flip down seats, the weird curvy staircase down to the ladies' bathroom and the enormous size of Darth Vader's head. I also remember being awestruck by the ritual of seeing a movie. All these people, in the dark munching on popcorn and getting their shoes stuck in spilled fountain drinks. It was awesome. It was also scary. For a child with little movie viewing experience perhaps the explosions and ton-ton innerds were a bit much. But I handled it. I handled it and fell in love with a whiny little brat named Luke Skywalker. Yeah, we were going to get married. Once he met me, that is.
At the time, I had no idea he was such a whiny little shit. Plus, I hadn't had the benefit of seeing "Star Wars" until we got it on laser disk some time later. (Yeah, baby, I said Laser Disk!) Regardless, I was hooked on entertainment.
This should really come as no surprise. After all, I was named after a character in a movie. Not just any movie and not just any character. I was named after Jane Fonda's character, Bree Daniels, in the 1971 thriller "Klute" co-starring the lovely Donald Sutherland. She played a high priced call girl who also had acting ambitions. (Hmmm...) Jane won the best actress Oscar that year. It's a good movie. The score is really creepy. During very sad and lonely times in my life I've watched that movie just to hear Donald Sutherland say my name over and over and over again. I have to admit, it still gives me chills to look at the cover of our VHS copy and see my name in print. It reads "Bree really knows how to swing...". What ego maniac can resist that? Certainly not me!
There were signs throughout my childhood that I would grow up to be who I am. I used to imitate Tim Conway and I have memories of imitating this charcter from some sketch show on tv with an exaggerated pompadour who's catch phrase was, "My name is...RAMON!" (said with a heavily rolled 'r' and a head snap). Apparently I came out speaking because the entry in my Baby Book filled out by my mother insists that I never babbled and that she "can't remember" my first word "but she hasn't stopped since". I suppose she thought that was funny. Clearly, as evidenced by the length of an average UFH post, this is as true as it is funny.
I bring this up because my kid is doomed. I took him to see the first Harry Potter movie when he was about 4 weeks old. He's been going to movies ever since. He has sat through "Captain Blood" and "To Kill A Mockingbird" both before the age of 3 and even asked to see them again. He plays dress up and loves to imitate people- but he is often too shy to imitate people in the actual presence of others. He does it when he thinks he's alone or if he's with some good friends. My kid has gathered a collection of moustaches, beards, scarves, hats, eye patches, witch hats, brooms, swords, walking sticks, watches, vampire teeth, capes, gold and jewels to make any small theater company green with envy. Of course I encourage it because it is a game I know how to play. Although he usually discourages me from joining in unless there is a sword fight.
I'm stepping back on this one, because I need to see where he takes this on his own. It isn't my place to put him in this business. In fact, I'd much rather he didn't. Hey, he could just as easily discover that his passion for killing ants is a satisfying and profitable one. Who am I to stand in the way of that just because it is not something that I would have chosen for myself? But really, he can't help leaning in this direction because our home is built that way. It is who his parents are.
The poor kid. I had hoped his name would give him athletic (named for a bare-knuckled boxer) or literary aspirations. He could become the next Hemingway, you know. Or he could also be a mad drunk. If I have another boy, I want to name him after Dashiell Hammett. Sullivan and Dashiell- thems is two hard drinkin' names. Hell, I'm drunk just typing them.
I suppose I should take some time to update Sullivan's own baby book so that one night he can blog about how he was doomed by his parents' choice of name.
It was 1980 and I would have been five years old- a few months older than my boy is now. I remember the rather foreign feel of the flip down seats, the weird curvy staircase down to the ladies' bathroom and the enormous size of Darth Vader's head. I also remember being awestruck by the ritual of seeing a movie. All these people, in the dark munching on popcorn and getting their shoes stuck in spilled fountain drinks. It was awesome. It was also scary. For a child with little movie viewing experience perhaps the explosions and ton-ton innerds were a bit much. But I handled it. I handled it and fell in love with a whiny little brat named Luke Skywalker. Yeah, we were going to get married. Once he met me, that is.
At the time, I had no idea he was such a whiny little shit. Plus, I hadn't had the benefit of seeing "Star Wars" until we got it on laser disk some time later. (Yeah, baby, I said Laser Disk!) Regardless, I was hooked on entertainment.
This should really come as no surprise. After all, I was named after a character in a movie. Not just any movie and not just any character. I was named after Jane Fonda's character, Bree Daniels, in the 1971 thriller "Klute" co-starring the lovely Donald Sutherland. She played a high priced call girl who also had acting ambitions. (Hmmm...) Jane won the best actress Oscar that year. It's a good movie. The score is really creepy. During very sad and lonely times in my life I've watched that movie just to hear Donald Sutherland say my name over and over and over again. I have to admit, it still gives me chills to look at the cover of our VHS copy and see my name in print. It reads "Bree really knows how to swing...". What ego maniac can resist that? Certainly not me!
There were signs throughout my childhood that I would grow up to be who I am. I used to imitate Tim Conway and I have memories of imitating this charcter from some sketch show on tv with an exaggerated pompadour who's catch phrase was, "My name is...RAMON!" (said with a heavily rolled 'r' and a head snap). Apparently I came out speaking because the entry in my Baby Book filled out by my mother insists that I never babbled and that she "can't remember" my first word "but she hasn't stopped since". I suppose she thought that was funny. Clearly, as evidenced by the length of an average UFH post, this is as true as it is funny.
I bring this up because my kid is doomed. I took him to see the first Harry Potter movie when he was about 4 weeks old. He's been going to movies ever since. He has sat through "Captain Blood" and "To Kill A Mockingbird" both before the age of 3 and even asked to see them again. He plays dress up and loves to imitate people- but he is often too shy to imitate people in the actual presence of others. He does it when he thinks he's alone or if he's with some good friends. My kid has gathered a collection of moustaches, beards, scarves, hats, eye patches, witch hats, brooms, swords, walking sticks, watches, vampire teeth, capes, gold and jewels to make any small theater company green with envy. Of course I encourage it because it is a game I know how to play. Although he usually discourages me from joining in unless there is a sword fight.
I'm stepping back on this one, because I need to see where he takes this on his own. It isn't my place to put him in this business. In fact, I'd much rather he didn't. Hey, he could just as easily discover that his passion for killing ants is a satisfying and profitable one. Who am I to stand in the way of that just because it is not something that I would have chosen for myself? But really, he can't help leaning in this direction because our home is built that way. It is who his parents are.
The poor kid. I had hoped his name would give him athletic (named for a bare-knuckled boxer) or literary aspirations. He could become the next Hemingway, you know. Or he could also be a mad drunk. If I have another boy, I want to name him after Dashiell Hammett. Sullivan and Dashiell- thems is two hard drinkin' names. Hell, I'm drunk just typing them.
I suppose I should take some time to update Sullivan's own baby book so that one night he can blog about how he was doomed by his parents' choice of name.
posted by Bree O'Connor at 11:12 PM
1 Comments:
I can distinctly remember seeing Star Wars in the movie theater at the tender age of three.
I also purchased a piece of porn called Jake's Nasty Blonde even though the female model really was kind of nasty.
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