ET of Old
I saw ET in 1982 at the old Haida theatre on Yates street. It was a one-screen affair across the street from the Capitol 6 that was condemned a few years later.
It was the first time either my sister or I had been to a theatre. My mom didn't tell us where we were going and, innocents that we were, we didn't clue in to what was happening until we were seated, popcorn in hand, and the lights started to dim.
After the short film ended, my sister famously opined, "But I haven't even finished my popcorn!"
Then, ET began.
Since then, I have seen it so many, many times that I have no memory of my first viewing and have, to my daughter's embarrassment, memorized all the lines.
Our family bought a VHS copy of ET at the Bakersfield Costco in 1988 and I think it still exists in a box somehere in my mother's half of our shared storage area downstairs.
ET of Today
Yesterday at work, the requirements for the feature that I am working on started to get fuzzy. More and more questions started to pop up while I was trying to implement it and the thing started to get really unwieldy and unclear and I got depressed. I think I used the phrase "crushing despair" when chatting with one of my colleagues. I certainly felt it, all day, right up until I had to leave to ride my bike to the dentist, where I was getting a filling.
In the evening, I stoically accompanied my children to movie night at Rara's school. As a fundraiser, they decided to show ET in the gym. Slightly unfortunate timing, since it is May, after all. It was warm and light out until 9pm last night. Two hours spent in a darkened gym doesn't jump immediately to mind as the best way to pass such an evening, but let that pass.
To my surprise, lying on tumbling mats with my kids ( and about 100 other folks ) and watching a 20-year-old movie from a crappy projector with crappier sounds was really, really fun. Rara sat cross-legged on the mat next to her best friend, I lay flat on my back using her lap as a cushion and the Deetman lay on my belly.
There was a constant white noise of chatter throughout, giving the impression that none of the kids were really watching the film at all. But then something would happen. Gertie would dress up ET in a wig and hat, or Michael would hit his head on the top of the plastic tube because he was so surprised to hear that ET was alive, and the whole gym would erupt in childish laughter. It was really sweet, and I laughed more at the movie than I ever had.
I cried too. When ET was dying, when he wasn't, whenever Eliot got a little weepy, I was right there with him. For the first time, I identified with the mother character, and teared up at her reaction ( blind terror ) to first seeing ET.
So, if my emotions are to be taken seriously at all, based on yesterday, my job utterly sucks, and ET is the finest movie ever made.
Which is to say, I think maybe I have a touch of PMS.
