old movies
once upon a time I was, let us say, ten-ish. I lived in Recife, Pernambuco, Brasil, in a neighborhood bounded by a river, a river that ships and barges could steam up on one side, and down on the other, so a real river, not a make-believe river. but it's not the river I'm writing about tonight, but a neighbor, a neighbor who must have had a streak of generosity as wide and deep as that river. On Sunday nights, I think, although it would probably make more sense if it were on Saturday nights, he would open his gates to the neighborhood, and play movies. He must have given some signal, or maybe we all knew to be there at dark. He would pull down a giant screen that covered one end of his porch, an enormous roofed and trellised structure, and maybe twenty-five or so people would settle into folding chairs, benches, stools, and he would play a movie from the 30s or the 40s. Unitedstatesean movies, French movies, Brasilian movies, English movies, I think he only cared about the quality. We watched "The Three Musketeers" shortly after I'd read the book, and watched "Cyrano de Bergerac" another night. We watched "Carmen", and "The Hunchback of Notre Dame". We watched Brasilian detective movies that made the Brasilians on the porch laugh, but I didn't know why. We watched movies so scary that the only reason I stayed and watched them all the way through was that I wasn't sure he'd let me back in if I left in the middle of one. Besides, all the grownups were staying. I wasn't about to be more of a scaredy-cat than they were. We watched love stories so impossibly beautiful I damn near cried, and I was ten-ish! We watched Shakespeare's "Henry V", the one with Laurence Olivier. Oh man! I have no idea how I got away with going to a neighbor's alone, week after week, watching wonderful movies, but I did. And I've loved those old movies ever since, watched them whenever they became available. bless you, neighbor so long ago!
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