Silver Screen

When my family made a radical move from Church of God to Assembly of God, we were allowed to start going to the movies. We had fudged around a bit with The Rescuers, Pippi Longstockings, and Star Wars, but basically, by the time I was nine, those were the only movies I'd ever seen. However, since it was not the story lines we were barred from, just seeing them on the big screen, my sister and I did get to listen to Disney albums while drifting to sleep each night.

Against my Christian principles, I longed to see the whole, real, actual versions of Lady and the Tramp and the Aristocats. The Methodists in town went to movies regularly, but since they didn't attend church on Sunday nights (which is another thing I longed for against my Christian principles), it was obvious their collective denominational judgment was impaired. They seemed like nice people, and I pitied their slow journey to hell, wondering how many movies they could squeeze in before splitting it wide open. I also wondered if they'd seen Lady and the Tramp - and if it was worth it. Against my Christian principles.

When Melody Courtney moved in next door, she sweet-talked dad into letting us attend The Rescuers one Saturday. I was so excited to finally be entering the den of iniquity I had only ever passed in the car. Scandalously, there were always people at the theater on Sunday nights, and at church they would ask us things like, "Wouldn't it be awful to be in a movie theater when the Lord decides to return?" (And I would wonder if Lady and the Tramp was worth it. Against my Christian principles.)

I don't think I understood that Lady and the Tramp wasn't always playing somewhere at a theater - just out of reach and between me and the lake of fire. I fear if there had somewhere been a double feature of Lady and the Tramp and The Aristocats, I might have jettisoned all principles and bought two tickets on the spot. An act which would have triggered the Lord's decision to return.

So, of course, I loved watching the Rescuers that Saturday and wondered afterward if others could see my new town polish. Then Dad moved us to Memphis for a better job and promptly took us to Star Wars after testing it out by himself. As a science-fiction geek, he described it so glowingly that we did not feel bad at all. I think we saw it twelve times.

As for the real drum roll portion of this tale, Star Wars was only my mother's second movie ---- in thirty-two years. Someone had sweet-talked Mamaw Rene into letting mom see Bambi years earlier. Apparently, though, she had rededicated her life and been good right up until Star Wars - when my dad, the only person in our immediate family who had been born Baptist, derailed us all.

He even found, after a time, a denomination that allowed for movie attendance as long as it was not R-rated. We had finally come home. The Assemblies of God even showed movies in church - usually about the End of Days, but still, I remember feeling uncomfortable about watching a movie in a sanctuary. I see now that it was a little bit late for me - connections in my brain had not been formed early enough regarding this aspect of entertainment, or rather had been formed, only negatively, or rather both.

I am unable to suspend disbelief, making it a trial for my movie partners (i.e. my children). And I don't like sitting still that long. And it feels like I can see right through plots. And I dislike sentimentality, which most movies employ to the nth. And I dislike preachy diatribes. And I despise horse movies. And violence makes me ill, ill, ill. And I dislike chick flicks. And my mind wanders to more interesting trains of thought which the movie then disturbs. And I was unable to watch all of My Big Fat Greek Wedding though it was highly recommended. And I disliked Brother, Where Art Thou pretty firmly. And I eat too much popcorn. And the list goes on and on. And I make others fully miserable about the whole business.

All I'm allowed is to be secretly satisfied that my children know what it is to be normal (at least about movies). So my work is done. Nonetheless, for me, it's probably too late.

But I will keep praying for Dad. He can't help being born Baptist.

P.S. When I was nineteen, I finally got to watch Lady and the Tramp on VHS tape with my niece and nephews. My ex-brother-in-law made fun of me, but I stretched out on the floor in the fat middle of all those kids and watched the whole thing. And I loved it.

(Please pray for me.)