Week 98: 1968 BMW 2002

1968, the year that saw this week's featured BMW, was the year of some of my favorite movies, and while I was too young to see them first run, they were hitting television by the time I was old enough to watch them. 


These movies included the moody, sultry and sexy The Thomas Crowne Affair (I still love that Windmills of Your Mind song) and Bullitt, horror classics The Night of the Living Dead and Rosemary's Baby, sci-fi classics 2001: A Space Odyssey and Planet of the Apes, family films Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and The Shakiest Gun in the West (with Don Knotts), and Clint Eastwood in Hang 'Em High, which stands in a category all its own. There were other good, or at least of note, movies from 1968, also.


I don't watch many movies with my kids as I've been unable to tolerate most animated kids movies lately, and not because they are necessarily bad, but because they have begun to irritate me something fierce, to the point of causing me to swear under my breath and then come up with something even mildly plausible I said instead of the $@#*@! I actually muttered. I don't know if it's the over-abundance of sarcastic animals or the obligatory references to pop culture (why would a prehistoric animal do the cell phone hand gesture for "call me?" $@#*@!) or if it's the constant usage of Indian and other accents for humor (again, always used by talking animals), but I just can't watch these movies anymore. 


I'm not selfish or anything, and I will deal with a movie occasionally as part of parental duty -- that's the same duty experienced by any adult who ever freely sat through any of the Free Willy or Beethoven series -- but it's rare to enjoy the experience.


That's why yesterday was so amazing. We decided to watch a VCR tape (that's this mysterious relic from the past - a plastic case with magic picture tape inside) of the Little Rascals that someone had given  to us. The experience was remarkable -- all of us, even three-year-old G, laughed loudly, and my older son even replayed parts over two, three and four times.


Listen, I'm not about taking an old guy stance that claims there isn't anything good on TV or the movies or that kids should watch real humor like when I was a kid. I have no desire to push anything from my past on my kids, and actually hope they never find out I was a fan of Ponch and the rest of the regulars on CHiPs.  I'm just thrilled when something, anything connects with all of us, and connects in a real way, not in an I'm-pretending-for-their-sake way. That happened with Spanky, Darla and Alfalfa yesterday. Baby G actually loudly snorted a chortle, a big deal for him as he's one  for simply giving a subtle smile out of one side of his mouth. 


If there is a way to send my thanks backwards through time to Hal Roach and all the child actors in Our Gang, let it happen now. Like most parents, having a good, sincere laugh at a movie or TV show that doesn't generate an eye roll, sigh or just blank stare from someone is a miraculous event, and one worth celebrating.

If you haven't had that experience in a while, why not give the Little Rascals a try?