“Are you OK, Dad?” Asks the boy, his spectacularly wonky smile reminding me of orthodontists’ bills to come.
I loosen my grip on the cushion I’ve been clutching since the opening titles rolled and reassure him that I’m fine.
He’s 10 and I’m 50 and we’re watching John Carpenter’s 1978 horror classic, Halloween. It’s my favourite movie and, despite having seen it more than a dozen times, I’m still terrified by it.
The wee man? Not so much. He’s too cine-literate to be taken in.
He predicts, with complete accuracy, which characters will die. He’s never surprised when masked psychopath Michael Myers suddenly appears, because he knows the rhythm of the movie dictates when each scare must come.
Two years later, we’ve moved on from horror and into the realm of the violent gangster movie though, to be honest, the genre doesn’t much matter. What’s important is that the films we watch together are deemed inappropriate for his consumption.
There are limits, of course. Movies featuring sexual violence are off the menu, as are the “torture porn” slashers like Saw and Hostel, but – pretty much – anything else goes.
Staying up late with Al Pacino
Rewind 41 years and, after a period of separation, my parents have decided to give things another go. A new house is bought and Dad moves back in with us.
It’s a school night, but Dad asks if I want to stay up late. One of his favourite movies is on telly and he thinks it’d be fun to watch together
It’s a stressful time. I’m pleased my parents are back together, but the prospect of attending a new school and having to make new friends – for the second time in three years – preys on my mind. And I’m constantly worried Dad will fall off the wagon.
It’s a school night, but Dad asks if I want to stay up late. One of his favourite movies is on telly and he thinks it’d be fun to watch together.
The movie is Dog Day Afternoon, in which Al Pacino plays a desperate incompetent who holds up a bank so he can pay for his partner’s sex reassignment surgery. And – thrillingly – it’s rated X. I love, even if I don’t understand, every second of it.
Reestablishing a bond
Dad and I go on to devour movie after movie meant for adults rather than 11-year-olds. We watch Apocalypse Now, The Godfather, and The Omen. Dad gets us a VHS of The Exorcist, which scares the hell out of me, but also allows me to go to school and tell my mates I saw The Exorcist.
Dad and I reestablish our bond watching these inappropriate movies.
Now, I’m the father, and I fully understand the pleasure my old man got from our film nights.
The boy and I stock up on popcorn and we scroll through the apps, looking for something he definitely shouldn’t be watching, until we settle on our entirely inappropriate choice.
For the next two hours, we could not be closer.
Euan McColm is a regular columnist for various Scottish newspapers
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