Movie Night

There are times when I would like to think that our family, while we have intentionally chosen some limited departures from the mainstream, could behave more or less normally if we so chose.

And then along comes a movie night and I am obliged to come to terms with the reality that we really, really don't do "normal" very well.

It started out innocently enough. Janelle got the hankering to watch a certain movie that had been recommended to her by an acquaintance. Supposedly it was all about the working out of complicated family relationships in a holiday atmosphere (likely not scary). We decided to rent the DVD and watch it on the computer as a quiet evening family activity, so Janelle and Kali dropped by Blockbuster on the way home today. While the helpful staff manufactured a rental card for Janelle, she went to find the movie.

They didn't have it, of course. Janelle found herself wandering through the racks of DVDs with a few harmless-looking comedies in hand, and then worrying about how to know whether they would make a good family activity, and then succombing to her insecurity in the unfamiliar environment and putting them all back. They could have aborted mission, and we could have planned instead to attend a game night that was organized by our church this evening. But by then Kali had become fairly attached to the notion of renting a Curious George movie along with the adult one, so that when I arrived home in the evening I was greeted by the sight of my daughter fondly caressing a DVD, and my wife, empty-handed, smiling sheepishly.

After nearly needing to cancel the event due to excessive pestering during dinner by a five-year-old over-eager would-be movie-goer, we finally settled down to watch the thing. Janelle inserted the disk into her trusty laptop, which was promptly taken over by it. Seriously. Without asking, the DVD simply fired up the internet connection and introduced us to a slate of interactive Curious George games and promotional items. We searched in vain for some kind of instructions that might resemble the "play" buttons of our VCR youths, but to no avail. Eventually Janelle tried zeroing out of the program the DVD had chosen, and tried instead to play the DVD with the program that has worked in the past for older, less aggressive forms of the technology.

Surprisingly, it started playing something. Previews, which turned out to be unskippable, so far as we could learn. But then, at long last, an icon consisting of a stylized word "Play" appeared on the screen. Ah, familiarity. With relief it was clicked on.

The first minutes of the movie were relatively charming and, for the adults, predictable. Just what we needed. Kali got lots of good giggles out of silly George doing his clever tricks in the jungle. But when George, who had pursued the Man with the Yellow Hat all the way to his home in a large American city, seemed to be having trouble keeping up with him, we noticed the first signs that our daughter's tenderness and lack of exposure to Hollywood conventions were causing her some distress. We noticed this because she began wailing.

After a few wailing episodes followed by reassurance from us that the screenwriters would surely never let George and his friend get separated for long, or let any other manner of truly damaging calamity ever happen to George or anybody else for very long, we stared unbelievingly as the action on the screen stuttered and then stopped cold. The temptation was strong to scrap the whole thing, but by then I had felt that this was a good lesson for Kali in learning to cope with intense feelings while continuing to function. She seemed game, and I hated to quit on her. We closed the program and re-opened it, fast-forwarding through those previews, and then skipping ahead through the story until we got back to the spot we had left from. As we settled back into our comfortable positions, glad that the computer was working again, the action began stuttering again at, wouldn't you know it, the exact same spot. Oh. The DVD must have a scratch.

I think it was after restarting the DVD the third or fourth time that we realized we could skip past the scratch, missing only a little action. For the next three hours, we watched little chunks of the Curious George movie punctuated by program restarts and wailing/reassuring episodes. The most peaceful thing we did all evening was to take a little exasperated break to make popcorn. This was turning out to be a good lesson for Janelle and I in coping with intense feelings while attempting to keep the computer and our daughter functioning.

In the end, which we were just barely able to cajole the computer into showing us, everything turned out just the way we had told Kali it would, of which we were glad. Kali seemed glad, too. But while she was sitting on the potty after it was all over, we heard from the next room her little quavery voice proposing that since she didn't think she'd be able to remember not to be scared even though she already knows how it turns out, maybe we wouldn't watch it again. She needn't have worried.

Tomorrow we have a busy day planned. In the morning we're going to bustle around for a while at our various chores and tasks, including moving Curious Hiddley (Kali's rabbit) into our "tower" for the winter, me cleaning up some of the lumber acquired during our solar greenhouse demolition project for use in building a woodshed, meal preparation, then possibly being visited by a friend who will be in town, then taking a meal to some other friends who have recently had a baby, and a few other things I'm sure I'm forgetting about. This is, for me, a satisfying (even if a little busy) kind of day. It is also good entertainment for all three of us, and suits us very well. I guess most people would, given a choice, prefer to watch a movie. What I can't tell is whether we experience that choice differently because of earlier decisions we have made concerning our lifestyle and priorities, or whether we are intrinsically distinct from the majority of society. In any case, it's clear that watching movies is not a skill we currently possess as a family. I don't mind that in the least. Seeing Kali's tenderhearted concern for hapless George warmed me deeply. I do not mind exposing her to Hollywood's antics, but to see her become jaded to characters in peril would be sad for me. She is a person who keeps a constant awareness of the people around her, and I think she's very perceptive about their emotional welfare. I am keen to honor that contour of her character by noting it appreciatively to her and also by making sure the space she lives in allows her to be molded by that sensibility in positive ways. That is to say that I think moderated sheltering is not always a bad thing.

I suppose one could worry that, having been raised by parents who prefer to live somewhat on the fringes of society, Kali will be unprepared to face life among her peers. From time to time that worry does crop up in my mind. We welcome your opinions (you can leave comments on our blog or you can contact us any other way) on this or other subjects, especially concerning parenting. Mostly, though, I'm not worried. It's not hard to learn to watch movies later, and if you don't, does it really matter? I want Kali to grow up with the kinds of skills adults have a hard time learning if they don't emerge from childhood with them intact: empathy, respect, awareness, self-respect, creative confidence, intrinsic motivation, curiosity, courage, awe, intimacy, inner quiet (among others). In no way do I feel I fully comprehend the ways in which these skills are acquired or preserved in children, but I do feel Kali is demonstrating, in her own ways, that she has a reasonably good start on at least some of these, and I am so proud of her--and our family that doesn't know how to watch movies.