It was just something that my grandparents did, didn't think anything of it, actually. Take the kid to the movies, never mind that movie content in the late sixties, early seventies was screaming along like a jet fighter at ground level. I don't think they ever read film reviews, or gave thought to how much movies were changing. They looked at the movie times in the paper to see what was playing, or maybe checked out the lobby cards. Marquees didn't matter much, what was in a title? If it looked good, looked to have lots of action, yeah, let's take the kid, fill up some time, grab some popcorn.
So, thanks to my mom's people I was exposed, at a tender young age, to a number of films that had nice bits of gratutious frontal nudity packed in to them, well, maybe not fully frontal, but to a straight arrow boy of thirteen or fourteen, packed with bodies and breasts that were about as fully exposed as they could possibly be. Gosh, thanks to my grandparents I was able to catch all manner of nubile breasts in Vanishing Point, Five Man Army and Play Misty For Me, all on very innocently planned summer vacation outtings. For a pubescent young guy those matinees were about as memorable as a trips to Disneyland or Tommy's! Probably even better!
What brought on this bit of nostalgia this evening? I was gifted last Christmas with a clean, widescreen print of Vanishing Point. It was really a two for the price of one kind of film pack, as it had both the US and the UK release of the film on the same disc. I had seen the US version during it's initial run and screened a beat pan and scan a few times over the years but never knew that there was a foreign print of the film floating around out there as well. It was great to see a clean print and to see the edited piece that contained a dreamy moment of dialogue between Barry Newman and Charlotte Rampling. It added a bit of dimension to the plot that was missing before, gave just a hint as to why Kowalski didn't turn himself in, rounded out that last truncated moment on the highway before the final wham bam finale.
Yeah, it was a time trip, catching that flick again in wide screen. But boy, let me tell you, films have changed quite a bit since those days, when a gal riding nude on a motorcycle in the California desert (no tans lines in sight!) could make such a impression on an impressionable young Catholic school lad. Sideways shots of breasts, yeah, no big deal these days, especially when compared to flicks like, say, Abel Ferrers' Bad Lieutanant with Harvey Keitel giving us full frontal anatomical shots of his package. Man, that flick even made me blush, and I'm a full grown man.
Yeah, thanks Mama and thanks Grandfather Manuel for taking me to the flicks, for providing those long lasting, sideways bits of tittilation...no pun intended.
Action!
So, thanks to my mom's people I was exposed, at a tender young age, to a number of films that had nice bits of gratutious frontal nudity packed in to them, well, maybe not fully frontal, but to a straight arrow boy of thirteen or fourteen, packed with bodies and breasts that were about as fully exposed as they could possibly be. Gosh, thanks to my grandparents I was able to catch all manner of nubile breasts in Vanishing Point, Five Man Army and Play Misty For Me, all on very innocently planned summer vacation outtings. For a pubescent young guy those matinees were about as memorable as a trips to Disneyland or Tommy's! Probably even better!
What brought on this bit of nostalgia this evening? I was gifted last Christmas with a clean, widescreen print of Vanishing Point. It was really a two for the price of one kind of film pack, as it had both the US and the UK release of the film on the same disc. I had seen the US version during it's initial run and screened a beat pan and scan a few times over the years but never knew that there was a foreign print of the film floating around out there as well. It was great to see a clean print and to see the edited piece that contained a dreamy moment of dialogue between Barry Newman and Charlotte Rampling. It added a bit of dimension to the plot that was missing before, gave just a hint as to why Kowalski didn't turn himself in, rounded out that last truncated moment on the highway before the final wham bam finale.
Yeah, it was a time trip, catching that flick again in wide screen. But boy, let me tell you, films have changed quite a bit since those days, when a gal riding nude on a motorcycle in the California desert (no tans lines in sight!) could make such a impression on an impressionable young Catholic school lad. Sideways shots of breasts, yeah, no big deal these days, especially when compared to flicks like, say, Abel Ferrers' Bad Lieutanant with Harvey Keitel giving us full frontal anatomical shots of his package. Man, that flick even made me blush, and I'm a full grown man.
Yeah, thanks Mama and thanks Grandfather Manuel for taking me to the flicks, for providing those long lasting, sideways bits of tittilation...no pun intended.
Action!
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