Cinema Paradiso

Do you remember your first film? Ours were “Star Wars” and “One Hundred and One Dalmations” – the 70s-era animated version. Do you remember how big the theater seemed, the screen hidden behind vermillion velvet curtains; the plush seats that folded you up with their clamshell springs if you didn’t sit on the very edge; the bucket of buttery popcorn and sweaty paper cup of Coke? You watched, excited and a little bit nervous as the room filled up with people. It was nice to have Mum or Dad on either side just in case things got scary. When the lights first dimmed and the curtains parted to reveal the immense screen you couldn’t help but let out a small “ohhhhh,” your eyes riveted, your heart beating an excited rhythm.

Yesterday, in the middle of an unbearably hot afternoon, we took Hamoud’s two sons, Youssef (8) and Yassim (just 5) to see “Pirates of the Caribbean 2” at the Colisee Theater in Guilez. Neither had ever been to see a movie in a cinema before, though they’ve both watched the first Pirates movie a hundred times on DVD.

We arrived at the house to collect the kids to find them jittery with excitement, and a fair bit of trepidation about heading off with the two of us alone. Hamoud and Hint were there to say goodbye and Hamoud made sure Yassim had on a freshly pressed button-down shirt. This had clearly been billed as an outing of some magnitude. The boys both clung to their parents at the door, pleading that they come along, too, but after Hint handed Youssef a 10-dirham coin and told him he could call her at home if they needed anything, they set off with us hand-in-hand and emboldened.

We all piled into a taxi – the limit is normally three people to a car, but we convinced the driver that Yassim is so small, he’d duck and hide himself should we drive past a traffic cop. Once we arrived at the theater and bought our tickets, we headed over to the snack stand and bought an absurd supply of junk food: M&Ms, Malteasers, potato chips and sodas. When the cinema doors opened 10 minutes later and we walked into the grand old theater, the boys were in awe, running up and down the aisles, bouncing on the seats, whose flip-up bottoms they marveled at, counting the other viewers as they filed in, asking questions about the screen, the speakers on the walls, the little red lights lining the aisles, the enormous domed ceiling above our heads.

We took seats on either side of the boys, knowing they’d want to be together, but also letting them know that they could jump on our laps if they got scared. Yassim was too small to see above the seat in front of him, so we fashioned a booster out of the camera bag. Before the film had even started, they’d broken into the goodies bag and were gobbling candy and slurping soda like theater-going regulars. We kept glancing across at one another, loving every second of the boys’ reactions.

As we’d hoped, they were rapt when the lights went out and the first images flicked across the screen and we were treated to a surround-sound preview of “Miami Vice”. Not exactly fare for a five-year-old, but our attempts to distract Youssef and Yassim were futile. “Is this our movie?” Youssef asked. When I shook my head, he sighed with a bit of relief. And then, when the Walt Disney logo came on, he cried, “This is it! This is our movie!”

For the next two plus hours, Youssef’s eyes were glued to the screen. He’d occasionally look over at me when the music cued a scary scene, and laughed and screamed out in equal measures of delight. Since the movie was in French, we’re not sure how much of the dialogue either kid understood, but anyone who’s seen one of the Pirates movies knows the dialogue is sort of beside the point. Johnny Depp’s mugging, Kiera Knightly’s pouting and Orlando Bloom’s earnest stares tell you all you need to know. Whereas Youssef was captivated, Yassim’s attention span proved not quite up for the two-and-a-half-hour flick. He wasn’t the only one. How I wanted to join him in a quick sprint up and down the aisle and some full-volume chatter. First he wanted to play with the camera. Then he wanted to try on our straw hats. Next, he wondered about a bathroom break.

Minutes after Johnny Depp hurled himself, sword brandished, into the mouth of the giant octopus, Youssef asked in a tragic voice, “Is it over? That’s it?” We’re pretty sure he wasn’t expressing disappointment in the movie’s cheat cliffhanger ending, but at the realization that his first cinema experience was coming to an end. As we run outside to find a taxi, fat raindrops are beginning to fall and zigzag lightning arcs over the city. I grab Youssef’s hand in mine and give it a little squeeze. When he looks up, I want to tell him he’s made my day at the movies magic and that he’ll have lots more first experiences, kiddo. Instead, I smile and say, “How about that Captain Jack Sparrow? Think he’s gonna make it out of that octopus alive?”