Movies

Imagination fuels fear, and fear fuels the imagination. In some, this coupling can be the source of inspiration. In others, blind terror.

Dyllon's Law

 April 1960 - Seven Years Old

Whenever my mother said we were going to the movies, I was quietly (and sometimes not so quietly) jumping for joy. There were always so many different kinds to choose from, so I would never get bored. Mom would take Darryl and me to the theaters that were close to our house. These were the Regent and Morningside theaters, around 116th Street and 8th Avenue, but the better-looking theaters were the RKO and Loew’s at 125th Street. We either took the bus or train the single train stop or if it was a nice evening, we just walked the ten to twelve blocks. This time we took the train because it was a pretty cool evening.

Walking from the 116th Street station and Lenox to the 125th Street station seemed like a short distance unless it was snowing or raining heavily. We had gotten a few steps away from the station, and already the cold kept trying to find ways to sneak into my coat. 

As we walked up 125th Street toward 7th Avenue, I could see Blumstein’s department store, right across the street from the theater. Mom always went clothing shopping there and dragged me and Darryl along. Booorring. In terms of getting clothes for us though, Darryl and I had the same coats and pretty much the same clothes. Mom shopped with us together, and I was never big on being picky about styles. Darryl was starting to say what he liked, and between him and my mother, I got my selection of summer and winter wear.

Ahead of us, it was hard to miss the huge marquee running down the side of the building. The large black letters against the white background spelled out “LOEW’S.” Just a few doors past the movie, I could see the Apollo Theater. I heard that a lot of singers performed there. I knew that the Apollo didn't show movies, so it didn't interest me yet. When we got to the ticket booth, my mother’s long brown coat with the big black buttons kept flapping in the wind. She decided not to button it, but she held her coat closed as she made her purchase. As I stood with Darryl in the entryway, I looked at the small cards that showed scenes from the movie. Angry Red Planet filmed in CineMagic.

“What’s CineMagic?” I wondered.

The other small posters showed a spider-looking creature. The rest just showed people standing around in space suits. Hard to tell what the movie was about, but it didn't seem scary.

Last year we saw a lot of different kinds of movies. I was a glutton for all types of movies, but the ones that I liked the most were about science. We had seen Journey to the Center of the Earth, The 4-D Man, The Time Machine, The Brain from Planet Arous, and The Tingler. With good reason, I don’t remember much of The Tingler. I know it was about a guy who would pull something out of people’s backs when they got scared, but I couldn't tell for sure. Most of the movie, my head was either in my mother’s lap or my eyes were closed tight. 

I do remember seeing most of The Brain from Planet Arous though. The only times I closed my eyes was when they showed the big, floating alien brain, which had visible folds and two glowing eyes in the front. There was no way I was watching that thing and have nightmares for the next month. I kind of knew that the horror movies weren't real, but sometimes they seemed so real!

Once we got past the ticket booth, we walked toward the welcoming theater doors with the long handles. These doors were usually heavy and hard to open, but once in, we walked down the brown and red carpeting that led to the concession stand on the right. Mom let us pick out the candy that we wanted. I always liked to get Chuckles even though it stuck to my teeth. Darryl swore by his Red Hots.

We got our sweets and walked through the next set of double doors into the auditorium. The auditorium was really big. Between the balcony, mezzanine, and main floor, it seemed like a hundred people could have fit in there. When Mom told me that a couple of thousand people could fit, I almost didn't believe her. I wasn't sure how much a thousand was, but I knew it was a lot more than a hundred! The domed ceiling seemed as high as the sky. There was a circular pattern in the center of the dome with a pretty painting of a woman, but it’s hard to remember the detail. I always noticed the box seats on either side of the theater, but I never saw anybody sitting in them. It didn't make sense that anybody would want to see a movie from the side anyway. Sometimes we went to the second floor, where there was a place for people to sit, sort of like a lounge. It had its own big oval ceiling with a painted goddess whose hand was reaching out, almost like a 3-D effect. That looked a little scary but only a little. I was happy when we got past it and went to our seats. 

This time, my mother decided to stay on the first floor and there were lots of seats. We sat about five rows from the screen. My brother was all excited about being able to get good seats. It did make it easier to see when you were not trying to look over other people’s heads, but I wasn't sure if being so close to any monsters was such a good idea. Mom would sit there during the scary parts and I’d hear her quietly say, “Lord, God.” My brother was always brave. Nothing seemed to bother him. He even said that he liked the bloody parts. I thought to myself that maybe when I was older, I’d be brave like that, but it wasn't going to be today.

I liked the seats they had in this theater. They were covered with some kind of red velvet that was really soft. I didn't like the way the wooden arm would get in my way when I was trying to get to my mother though. When I was five, I would climb into her lap when the scary parts started. I was too big for that now or at least I felt that I should be too big. Covering my face and leaning to her lap for protection seemed okay though. I was thinking about how scared I was when I saw The Fly, back in ’58 and the lights started to dim.

I braced myself, as I always did, not knowing if they would start the movie with something really frightening. There were a lot of rocket ships and scientific stuff that seemed interesting, but to me The Angry Red Planet was really not that scary. Between the bat-rat-spider, which looked like a puppet, and the big fish-monster, which came out of the water and had an eyeball spinning around, it got to be corny. The “CineMagic” effect just meant they colored the film an orange-brown tint whenever the crew was on Mars. This was supposed to make it look strange, but most times it just looked out of focus and distracting. 

One part of the movie that did bother me, though, was when the man’s arm fell out from beneath the sheet. His hand to his elbow was covered with a jelly-like substance. Later, back on Earth, the man had bandages that started from his hand, and then went all the way to his shoulder. It was really bulky between his elbow and his shoulder. You couldn't see the jelly stuff, but it was obvious where this was going. For some reason, as I sat there in the dark, this was scaring me out of my mind! I was clutching the chair arm and grimacing. I knew it would be ridiculous to show that I was scared because they weren't showing anything but bandages on a guy’s arm. I held my breath until the movie ended, which fortunately was soon.

After the short train ride back home, Darryl and I were, of course, sitting on our beds talking about the movie. At the young age of seven, I had an “Aha!” moment. You know. When you suddenly realize something clearly for the first time and it really makes sense. To my first-grade mind, this fact hit me like a ton of bricks. Yeah, I was scared of the monsters and gross things that I could see, but I was also scared of the things that I couldn't see. And why was I scared of something that I couldn't see? Because I thought there was supposed to be something to be afraid of. I knew the man in the movie only had a bandage on his arm, but my fear made me think there was green, slimy jelly growing into his skin, causing his flesh to melt away. I had heard the word “imagination” about a year before, and now it started to make some sense.

Darryl agreed this was probably true, but I wasn't sure he caught what I was meaning. It was hard enough for me to try to make myself understand it. I couldn't wait to see another scary movie to see if it was the movie scaring me or just me scaring myself. Mom told us it was time for bed, so Darryl turned off the light. I understood that there was nothing there in the dark to scare me, but I made certain to pull the sheets and woolen blanket all the way over my head. I needed protection from whatever wasn't there, trying to get me. I could hear my brother laughing at me, but I didn't care. Better safe than sorry.

Check out the book "Reflections of EL: In Search of Self" and others at Endlessperceptions.com.