+4
This thread is breaking my heart.
I remember in high school I spent the weekend with my dad. We rented a VHS of Arachnophobia and Dune, Dune of course was my choice as it had been a favorite for some time. We started with Arachnophobia.
About half way in, the step sister started to fade. Her mom carried her to bed as the kid pointed to each shadowy corner on the way whispering, "spider." We finished the movie, dad, the step-mom, and I. Then we started Dune. And I was excited because in an estranged relationship with my father, we knew little of each other. This, my favorite movie of the time, would now become a bridge of insight through which my father could finally relate to me.
Half in to the movie, my step-mom bailed. That was ok, because now it was just my father and I. We continued. Together. And our bond would only be that much stronger for it without the distracted dilution of others. This was not for them. This was for me. Spice is life! And soon my father, during the roll of the last line of credits would turn to me and nod in silent acknowledgment. Son. Father. The Spice must flow.
By the end I was giddy. This, my favorite movie, is bringing my father and I together finally at nearly 1:00AM. He stayed awake to finish this with me because, like me, he needed this. He understood.
Sting (I WILL kill him!) ...Sting(?) has been killed. The sister's power revealed. A magnificent specimen of a science fiction masterpiece has come to a close, but in that closing a new story is about to be opened.
After a few moments into the credits screen my father leaned forward and slowly turned to me in a new awareness as if he had just tasted the spice himself. This would become our moment! Yes. Like Anakin to Luke, in Jedi, my father will recognize his sin and bless me with his repentance. My father, a man that for all of my limited experience had always been a selfish man without empathy turned to me, made a slow a deliberate contact of the eyes and nodded the nod that I had anticipated. Sadly this was not that nod, but rather one of disbelief. He opened his mouth to speak and I already knew his words. "That was the dumbest movie I have ever seen." As if the insult was not enough, he continued, "Giant worms? Bwahaha..." Then he stood upright, said goodnight, and left the room laughing.
I've loved this movie since the 4th grade!! How dare he.
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