The Wizard of Oz is one of my favorite movies, but, I’ll admit, when I was a kid still in single digits, the grumpy apple trees and flying monkeys used to really creep me out.
What actually out-and-out scared me was the scene where Dorothy was trapped in the Wicked Witch’s castle, crying to the image of her Auntie Em in the crystal ball, and then the image of her aunt changes into the Wicked Witch! Who looks directly into the camera and cackles her hideous cackle.
It felt like she was looking right at me.
They were having a special showing of The Wizard of Oz at the Cinemark movie theater on the 27th, 29th, and 30th of this past January. It was sponsored by Fathom Events and Turner Classic Movies (TCM). A funny thing that happened when I took my 4-year-old granddaughter to the matinee showing of it on Sunday the 27th. We got there early, bought our tickets, and stood in line to get our snacks. There was a single showing of Oz over the course of three days. This one was at one pm, and the Wreck It Ralph sequel was showing before and after it. We paid for our snacks and entered the theater.
Can you believe it?
There were TWO people sitting in our seats!
A lady and her teenage daughter.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” I told her, “but you’re in our seats.”
“The movie’s not over,” the mother told me.
“What?” I said.
“The movie isn’t over yet,” the daughter repeated.
I looked at the screen.
Sure enough, there was Ralph.
“I’m such a dork,” I told them, and my granddaughter and I sat in the empty seats behind them.
When they left, my granddaughter and I moved to where they had been sitting.
“My seat is warm,” my granddaughter told me.
“Mine, too,” I answered, still feeling like a dork.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” I told her, “but you’re in our seats.”
“The movie’s not over,” the mother told me.
“What?” I said.
“The movie isn’t over yet,” the daughter repeated.
I looked at the screen.
Sure enough, there was Ralph.
“I’m such a dork,” I told them, and my granddaughter and I sat in the empty seats behind them.
When they left, my granddaughter and I moved to where they had been sitting.
“My seat is warm,” my granddaughter told me.
“Mine, too,” I answered, still feeling like a dork.
Interestingly enough, for the showing of The Wizard of Oz we were at, there were mostly adults in the audience. Very few kids. A group of ladies sat next to us. They came in late, then left to go get food. They couldn’t have done that BEFORE they entered the theater? I said nothing, even though I wanted to. My granddaughter was enjoying the experience, plus this is a different time we live in.
The lady who sat right next to us then answered a few text messages on her phone. It was distracting. To me, at least. Again, my granddaughter didn't notice and was transfixed by what was on the screen. I held my mud and said nothing.
A few minutes later, my granddaughter finished the popcorn in her kid’s box and wanted more, but she didn’t want to miss whatever came next for Dorothy.
I considered my options.
I didn’t have any.
So I did the math.
The lady sitting next to us came in with three other women. They were all grandmotherly types, so I asked if she would watch my granddaughter while I made a quick trip to the concession stand. She was glad to. I was off and back, quick as a flying monkey.
When I returned I thanked her.
“Your granddaughter is a darling,” she told me.
“She’s a good girl,” I agreed.
I thought to myself: “Sometimes it’s better to hold your mud.”
My granddaughter loved it.
So did I.
I never knew just how heartbreakingly beautiful Judy Garland was until I saw her on the big screen. Okay, I admit it, I even had to wipe away a few tears when she sang Somewhere Over The Rainbow.
After the movie ended, as my granddaughter and I were walking out of the movie theater I thought about my soon-to-be 18-year-old daughter. The Wizard of Oz is her favorite movie. We watched it together many times when she was a little girl. Less, as she got older. So, when we got home, I invited her to join me for a father/daughter movie night. It was for the 30th. I had to take the day off to do it, because I don't get off work until 9:30 pm, and the movie started at 7:00, but I wanted her to know she was important to me.
"Thanks for taking me, dad," she told me at the end of our "date."
"I love you," I told her.
"I know you do, because you NEVER take the day off."
And it's true.
I never do.
But she's worth it.
American Chimpanzee
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