INT: SUBURBAN LIVING ROOM. 2:24 AM. NOT A SCHOOL NIGHT.
The entire room is bathed in light from an IMPOSSIBLY BIG WIDE SCREEN TV playing gruesome scenes from “World War Z,” a 2013 zombie movie starring Brad Pitt.
We scan to see two people on two couches. On one, FATHER, early 50s, OBVIOUSLY TERRIFIED, watches between spread fingers as a zombie contemplates eating Brad Pitt’s head. On the other, SON, 14, GRINS at the same scene, UTTERLY UNAFRAID.
The movie ends. Father gets up and tosses a blanket over his presumably sleeping son. Then he clicks off the TV, casting the room into Bible-black darkness.
But as he tiptoes away…
SON
I know zombies aren’t real. But they still freak me out.
Then, Father can only WINCE as he hears this.
SON (cont.)
Great parenting, Dad. Really freaking great.
END SCENE
And that’s pretty much how I taught my children about movies — error and trial.
The son in that scene is now 25 and loves movies of all kinds. Like old dudes, he knows too much about “The Godfather” and “Pulp Fiction.” But, like sane people his age, his interests extend far beyond anything I showed him.
I take zero credit. He’s always been moved by movies.
As a toddler he saw “The Incredibles” and then spent a solid 30 minutes sprinting on a sidewalk outside the theater, stopping only to tell strangers that, like Dash, he was invisible when he ran. As a slightly older kid, after a father/son showing of “Barbarella,” he sprinted again, this time to his mother to tell her something he’d just learned:
“Did you know Daddy thinks Jane Fonda looks good naked?”
In college, after watching “Okja,” a 2017 Korean movie about a smart pig and the cruelty of meat, he became vegan.
As a little kid he loved “Spirited Away,” the animated Japanese classic from 2001. Recently, he made me watch “Flow,” a Latvian movie that won the 2024 Academy Award for Best Animated Feature.
The movies aren’t really that similar. But he talked at length — something he rarely does — about how both movies made him feel. I learned stuff.
His sister, now 30, is less interested in film. She reads books. Also, I regret to admit, she may have learned movies the harder way. Oldest kids always get a raw deal.
Our first movie together was “Men in Black.” The carpet was being washed, and we were marooned on a couch for a couple hours, and “Men in Black” was then fairly new to Blockbuster.
I was wildly entertained. Great film.
She was less enchanted.
“I was so scared,” she has said, repeatedly, over the years.
“It’s a comedy, not a documentary,” I have said, also repeatedly.
“I was 3!”
But my daughter and I have shared other — I’d argue better — cinematic experiences.
We went to a theater to see “Happy Feet” when it was out, in 2006, and she was 11. I’ll admit now, publicly, that I may have dozed during the second (and the end of the first and most of the third) act. I’ll also admit now, publicly, that my opinion, expressed as we left the theater — that I agreed with the movie’s pro-environment message but found it to be “a little preachy” at the end — was ill-informed.
“Daddy, how much of it did you see? You snored so loud we couldn’t even hear the songs.”
Also, the entire “Planet of the Apes” franchise (except for the unfortunate 2001 Tim Burton effort) is a favorite of mine, as is “Sense and Sensibility,” and my daughter has watched exactly one of those with me.
Sometimes, however, our movie tastes merge.
A couple years ago, as she and a friend of hers were about to force me to watch an episode of “The Red Hot Bachelor” (or whatever it’s called), I proposed an alternative.
“What about ‘Constantine’?”
It’s a 2005 Keanu Reeves movie that’s kinda “John Wick” before “John Wick,” but with more demons and roughly the same number of cigarettes. I figured at the very worst they’d like early-middle-aged Keanu.
My daughter and her friend were wary. My taste in movies was not on their usual playlist. But it’s my clicker and, technically, my TV, so we watched ‘Constantine.”
They loved it. They didn’t admit it at first; it was late when the movie ended and they both harrumphed out of the room. But within a couple of days they both mentioned that ‘Constantine’ was pretty strong.
My daughter has even sought my suggestions and ideas for other movies. Sadly, about five years on, I’m roughly zero for 11,495 suggestions.
“You did recommend ‘Constantine’ that one time,” my daughter, an optimist, sometimes reminds me.
“Maybe you’ve seen another good one. Once.”
Which leads me to this: In theory, this story is supposed to explain how I taught my kids about movies. But that premise assumes two suppositions not in evidence.
Supposition One: I possess knowledge about movies worth sharing with children.
Over the years, I’ve tried and failed to write several movies. One of my log lines was “1966 Los Angeles, Roller Derby, and a love triangle involving two skaters and a team owner/promoter.” (A couple of producers actually nibbled at that one.) Another was “A troop of corrupt, promiscuous monkeys live to 300 and create a multilevel marketing scheme to become the world’s spiritual leaders.” A third was cleaner: “Dog spies!”
So, Supposition One is wrong. Whatever I know about movies is not worth sharing.
Supposition Two: My kids, or any kids, really, are willing to learn about movies from a parent.
What movies did my parents love? No idea. The last movies they took me to see — a double feature of “Guns of Navarone” and “Zorba the Greek” — were in drive-ins when I was young enough to wear PJs and curl up in the back of the station wagon.
But that’s OK. I was never supposed to know what movies they like. Taste isn’t passed from one generation to another.
Passion is.
I love movies. Not as much as I love my kids, but a lot. And, over the years, I’ve made that point pretty clear.
Andre Mouchard is Assistant Managing Editor of The Orange County Register. He lives in Irvine with his wife, mother-in-law and the ghosts of several deeply loved pets.