Wiseguys, Puppy Dogs, and Babies: A Movie Memory

This morning, as I worked on my daily journal writing, I noticed I was dropping more "F-bombs" than usual, due to what I've decided to call the Scorsese Effect.  I showed my sixteen-year-old son Jackson "Goodfellas" last night.  He was more than ready for it.  We'd watched "The Departed," as part of a Jack Nicholson series, so I decided to branch off into a Scorsese series, since he enjoyed that one so much.

He loved it, of course.  This may be me responding to that nagging, puritanical voice inside my head asking how I could show my teenage child such a graphic film, but I think "Goodfellas" is more of a deterrent to a life of crime than many people realize.  Henry's journey is a harrowing one, after all.  I doubt there are many young viewers -- though I'm sure there are a few -- who leave this movie thinking, "I wanna be a gangster."  You definitely understand, and empathize with why Henry gets into that life, but you also see that it turns him into a "schlub" in the end, wreaking death and destruction along the way.

Joe Pesci as Tommy DeVito in Martin Scorsese's 1990 picture "Goodfellas" 

I've got my own memory of the first time I went to see "Goodfellas."  I took my dad and stepmother Judy to the cinema on Central Avenue in Hartsdale  if my failing memory serves in this instance.  (According to my brother it's an Alamo Drafthouse now.)  My father and I had bonded through our love of both Mafia stories, -- thanks to "The Godfather," and "Godfather II," specifically -- and of Scorsese.  Dad was a huge fan of both "Taxi Driver" and "King of Comedy." 

"He's so good at capturing 'lonely monsters,'" was what he said about Marty.

When we emerged from our two-and-a-half hour experience, I turned to my father and asked what he'd thought.

"Definitely an instant classic," he said.

"Right?" I answered excitedly, shifting my attention to Judy.  She appeared less enthused.

"But..." my dad continued.

"What?" I asked.

"At our age," Judy smiled, "when we go into the video store..."

She trailed off, probably not wanting to be unkind or ruffle my proverbial feathers.  Although I'd known her since age 4 or 5 (we were next-door neighbors for a couple of years) our stepmother-stepson relationship was still new; my mother had passed away only a couple of years earlier.

"We're looking for movies about puppy dogs and babies," my dad added, finishing the thought.  

"Puppy dogs and babies," I said aloud.

Okay.  Food for thought.

Puppy dogs.  And babies.

A puppy dog.  Oh, and a baby.

As I continue to curate the programing for my current Scorsese film festival, I can't immediately think of a picture he's made that features either.  I may do "Gangs of New York" next, or maybe get crazy and re-watch "After Hours."  Not sure how it will hold up, but it's one of my faves.  Or we could go on a DeNiro tangent and look at "Midnight Run," or continue down the Pesci road with "My Cousin Vinny."  Thinking we could use a comedy next.  Not quite puppies and babies, but a good comedy like either of these could help "cleanse the emotional palate" as we move on together in this wonderful endeavor of father-and-son movie watching.