A moral (amoral) outing

Today, I went to see Brave with Carter Marie. It was a lot of fun and CM was a very good spectator. Come to think of it, even the four pre-teens next to us were good viewers as well. Now that I am paroled, I did not want to go all "teacher" on them for talking. It's in our DNA.

This little jaunt made me think of a movie trip that my brother John and I took with dear old dad back in the late 70s, early 80s. We were raised Catholic (except my parents only had two kids, not 14). Dad wanted to get some good old hollywood religion in us, so he took us to see a biblical movie called The Robe in which serial adulterer Richard Burton starred. Looking at the box below, it seems that the lead singer of KISS was also in it, starring as a woman.

If you have not seen this epic from 1953, don't bother. It sucks. But.... that's not the point of the story... This masterpiece was not playing in the regular neighborhood theatre. It was playing in the hood.  Dad was not one to be stopped from taking his precious boys to see a classic such as this even if it did involve visiting (what would become) cracktown.  When we got to the theatre, it was empty. Oh, except for the drunk bum in the front row sipping on a bottle of mad dog or muscatel ("either one would be just swell"). Again, dad was not to be stopped at a mere trifle like this.  Then there were the previews. Nowadays, previews are reflective of the movie that is being shown- "know thy audience" as the marketing gurus say. I guess this was not the case in DC at this time. I can only imagine what was going on in dad's mind as he sat in stoic, stony silence as the previews to The Robe were a love story raunchy hardcore porn. I was old enough to not really understand what was going on, but still cognizant of the fact that I probably shouldn't be seeing it.  I bet if this happened today, the parent would be reported to social services and investigated. Back in the day, it was just par for the course, I suppose. Honestly, this is the greatest cinematic moment of my life. I learned a lot and it was not about the good book.   A picture of the author right after this incident. This is what shattered innocence looks like! p.s. Can you figure out the quote after the muscatel line? Let me know if you get it!

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