The World of Film According to Garp

Hello there readers, I’m here to tell you about someone very important to me.  Within the past two weeks the film world lost both Nicholas Roeg and Bernardo Bertolucci and there have been no shortage of well written eulogies on their legacy.  I thought over the past week of throwing my two cents in and discussing the importance of their work and the ever increasing irrelevance of their later years but well that never really materialized.  There was someone else who meant far more personally to my love and appreciation of cinema, my grandmother Marilynn Selsvik.  To understand this heading note that my brother while still a toddler had a hard time saying “Grandma” so like many kids he needed a short hand nickname and that happened to be Garp.  No relation to the Robin Williams film of 1982, but nearly as long as I can remember that’s what we called her.

I can’t necessarily properly eulogize my grandmother here, and I don’t mean to use this film blog to tell you about her life story but I will give you some necessary biographical information.  Garp’s love of film began from a very early age.  She was born in 1932 in Chicago, and her father was a union electrician.  My great grandfather worked at what I was told was the Paradise Theater here in Chicago as a house electrician back when that was a thing.  This theater showed two double features that changed twice a week.  So to do the math that was 4 films a week.  My grandmother from her elementary days until high school pretty much never missed a showing.  This being the old hey-day before television, it was when studios pumped out films like an assembly line.  Far too many people of the boomer and earlier generations still romanticize the era of vertical integration in movies and like to refer to this period as a time when movies were good.

This was an important part of her education growing up and instilled a love of film that would carry on through the rest of her life.  Her favorite film was Gone with the Wind and with all due respect to my late grandfather I’m pretty sure Clark Gable was the love of her life.  I remember the summer of 1998, when my brother and I were staying with her over our break.  Every day she helped finance our trips to Thumbs Up Video for their 4 for $4 deal.  Yes my brother and I would watch four movies a night, usually shitty horror films.  That summer was also the television premiere of the American Film Institute’s 100 Years 100 Movies list.  I remember coming in and out of the living room, but my grandmother was glued to the TV, offering various nods of approval and dismissal whenever a film was unveiled.  

 

Pictured, not my grandmother

After that list came out we checked out a few of them from Thumbs Up on a half-assed attempt to class up our viewing.  A year later after I rented Casablanca and fell in love I wanted to know what other films I had been missing.  I went back to that AFI list with relentless obsession and armed with those recommendations I immediately went to my grandmother.  She was the best living source of film knowledge I knew, and I twisted her arm to write down a list of her favorite films and some movies she thought I would like.  No idea where that list was, but for years I went out searching for some of these and programming my VCR whenever one was on TV.  Through her I learned more about classic Hollywood than any book could ever teach me.

Once I was hooked on cinema and officially off trying to learn everything there was I didn’t exactly forget about Garp.  During those winter months when studios released their films worth a damn I would always stop by her place to see if she wanted to tag along to the theater.  From 2002-2005 we saw a hell of a lot of films that would wind up winning Oscars and it was always something I admired.  Even in her 70s my grandmother still cared about film and was still interested in what was coming out.  I’m sure my own obsession and enthusiasm helped remind her how special those days were setting through double features in the early 40s.

Sometimes growing up our political views and religious beliefs are taken for granted.  You often hear people say “That’s how I was raised” or some other cliche.  I wonder sometimes if my own taste in film is in some part the same way.  Things could swing both ways and I still remember the first time we watched All Quiet on the Western Front and neither me, my aunt, or Garp said a word for roughly 20 minutes after the film ended.  I’m also pretty sure I made my grandmother sit through a few more foreign films than she was used to.  I also had to painfully walk her through in detail how to program her VCR to record movies for me when I needed to record more than one film at a time (ah the days before DVR).  Despite her grumbling she was always accommodating.

Some of my older readers might remember Tower Records, a retail giant that folded some time in the early 2000s.  There was a location in Schaumburg that I would frequent almost weekly.  I remember picking up over priced Home Vision VHS tapes or any other old classics that happened to be on sale and bringing them over to Garp's place.  We watched Pandora’s Box, Children of Paradise, 42^nd Street, Top Hat, and more films that I could possibly remember there.  

As the VHS era came to an end one Christmas my brother and I chipped in to buy my grandmother a DVD player.  We were excited for her to join the 21^st century and figured now she could watch any old movie she wanted.  After about six months I stopped by after hitting up the Mt. Prospect library only to find the DVD player still in the box.  *Cue old people stereotypes about technology.  I hooked it up in about 30 seconds and we were off and running.  Working third shift not too far from there I would some times stop by after work to take a quick power nap rather than risk driving all the way back to Lindenhurst and falling asleep.  Many of those visits would include me bringing a DVD or two just in case Garp was down.

Just as I can remember some of my grandmother's favorites, and sitting through countless Spencer Tracy and Clark Gable films, there were some movies she definitely wasn’t a fan of.  She might have been the only person I knew who hated Raging Bull, and probably much like Scorsese’s own mother objected to the language in it.  I found an ally in believing Ordinary People was a better film, an opinion I still probably hold.  She never really had the patience for Fellini, and I don’t think she was particularly fond of the late Bertolucci at least not Last Tango in Paris.  

There are so many of my film memories of me sitting usually on the floor or love seat of my grandmother’s living room watching movies with them, occasionally turning up the volume to drown out her or my aunt’s snoring.  Sure without her I know I wouldn’t be here, but I’d wager to say I wouldn’t be writing anything about cinema.  She was my first trusted source I could turn to, and there were probably hundreds of movies I had to ask her opinion about over the years.  She saw a lot but most importantly encouraged me to see a lot.  I know she looked back on those formative years of hers as some of the best times of her life, and I’m sure saw something of herself in my growing obsession.  

I’m always sorry when I hear stories of people growing up in un-supportive home environments.  Knowing that their family doesn’t “get them” or support their choices and hobbies.  Plenty of wise people will remind you that who your grandparents are often isn’t who they were as parents.  I guess I got some of the best year’s my grandmother had to offer.  She outlived all my other grandparents by over 20 years which made her all the more special.  

When all is said and done there might be regrets.  Hell I wish I could have gotten her stubborn self to use the computer she had to type down some of her memories.  I wish I was better at documenting our early conversations about film.  I wish I had about 100 more random photos of us.  Most of all I wish I could sit in that old living room and put Gone With the Wind on one more time.  If you’ll excuse me now, I have to go cry for a bit.