I have always thought that going to the movies was an experience that promised an escape from reality, a trip down the “yellow brick road,” or, if it were a Hitchcock movie, perhaps a trip down a more tortuous dark road, all with the idea of having fun. If I want a dose of reality, I can stay home or at the office. Movies, in my mind, were all about transporting me away from the drudgeries of everyday cares and taking me to a time long ago, and, perhaps, to a galaxy far, far away. After all, as the Master of Suspense, Alfred Hitchcock, said, “Drama is life with the dull bits left out.”
A Family Trip to Colonial Williamsburg
Perhaps a short story will suffice to illustrate what I have always expected from movies. The year was 1967 and I was a senior in high school, the oldest of six children. Piling all of us into the family station wagon, including my just-born baby sister (only a few weeks old), away we went to see the historical sites of Williamsburg. At least, that was my parent’s intention.
To be fair, while I have fond memories of this day for the reasons I’m about to reveal, I do regret my lack of interest at the time in history, since my father taught history and government at the high school I attended. Today, I read and enjoy history, but back in 1967, I couldn’t be bothered.
