When I was ten years old my dad for some reason decided we would go see a movie together, just him & me. It only happened the once and I think it was as much a “practice kid” thing than any real desire to spend some QT with his only begotten son. I could be wrong. Maybe I was having a bad week and he figured it would cheer me up. It did, I’ve never forgotten it, and Indy remains my hero second only to Robin Hood. My parents gave me the dvd box set for Xmas this year, more than two decades later. I don’t know if they remember that Dad took me to Raiders of The Lost Ark. If they don’t then it shows that they know me well enough to know that the Indy series is a perfect gift. If they do then it shows they have a sense of the Grand Circle of things and they’re sappy sentimentalists like me.
Indy had a huge impact on lots of guys my age, my demographic. We grew up in a world where Dad was a semi-mythic being, a Titan, mighty yet too tired at the end of the day to put up with much from a young hellion. We grew up lacking adventure in a larger-than-life male figure and were forced to seek it in two dimensions. Indy was there for us.
They apparently spent eight years and $8000 in allowances and lawn-mowing to do it. Spielberg has seen it and loves it, although no mention is made in the article about how he feels about it legally. I suspect getting our hands on a copy won’t be easy, but I’ll keep my eye out.
And of course the boys’ story has been optioned.
Life imitates Art imitates Life.
The lesson here is simple and obvious and wholly approachable by low-risking Hollywood money: dare to do. Go fer it, mate. Do that thang. And who doesn’t love a story like that? Boy meets movie, boy obsesses about movie, boy recreates movie and lives happily ever after when movie about boy obsessing with movie is released by Dreamworks. Or whoever. I might even pay to see it.
Suddenly I’m thinking of the years spent playing Star Wars or Lego or Star Wars and Lego and I’m wishing we had a camera.
Still, a part of me is proud of Chris Strompolos and his buddies. They love something I love, and they paid it due homage. I feel a certain bond. Yes, a certain comradery. And they’re finally seeing their reward, which is a fantasy for all of us.
But do they own the box set? Hmmm?
That was a GREAT article, dj. It was very ‘awww’ -inspiring, not to mention worth an out loud laugh when reading that they got grounded for setting the basement on fire while re-creating a bar scene. We never had cameras around when I was a kid either, although forcing my brother to put on a Barbie puppet show with me after I had jumped out of trees all day to play ‘Rambo’ with him wouldn’t make for much interesting film…
COMMENT:
depends what you were wearing. =)
Knowing me, it was probably either hand-me-down boys play-clothes (because I ALWAYS came in covered in mud) or some awful combination of old-fashioned dress-up clothes, because you know, it made sense to climb trees in a faux velvet shawl and studded boots from the seventies that went oh-so-well with my dirty coveralls…
Mom just sent an email saying Dad actually took me to a bunch of movies, including a couple of the Supermans. Supermans? Supermen? Shut up. But the way I remember it there were other kids along for all those. As far as I can recall Raiders was the only one we went to, just the two of us. If that’s not the case then I bet there’s a thesis paper in why it stands out so much.