Excuse me while I opine.

In working on the List of Top 100 Films, I’ve realized that I really miss the Daily Double Features of my youth. I miss sneaking into the Daily Double features. (Anyone out there remember when you could pull open the double doors in the alley behind the Harvard Square Theater?) One of the finer moments of my early teens years was a snow day spent riding the T, trudging by foot (because I said so) all the way from South Station to the Charles River, then hopping back on the Red Line and heading into Harvard Square. All with my excellent younger brother in tow. I dragged him to the 3:30 screening of “Satyricon.” I think he was a bit confused and being dyslexic probably didn’t read many of the subtitles. I watched in rapt silence. This was my first Fellini experience. My brother and I stumbled out of the theater into the icy cold dusk, hopped on the bus, and headed back to the suburbs.

My brother and I also spent many Saturday afternoons at the Coolidge Corner movie theater. I’d pound back a box of Jordan Almonds and with a mild allergy to almonds then have an “itchy mouth” for the rest of the afternoon. It would be hard to classify our parents. They weren’t hippies and I know my father would hate to be characterized as an eccentric because he adores conformity so I guess they were just plain weird. They were buying organic food and grains in bulk way back in the 1970s. My brother and I sat through a movie while they shopped at the Bread and Circus in Brookline because way back then that was the closest health food store to our house. Ok so it was 10 miles away but that doesn’t factor in Saturday afternoon driving which meant we were in the car for almost an hour each way. My brother and I went to the movies while our parents shopped.

Then later as a teenager as I roamed the streets of Cambridge there were 3 rep houses playing second-run films. Can you imagine? 3 rep houses within less than 2 miles of each other. The Orson Welles, The Brattle, The Harvard Square Theater (and let’s not forget Harvard Film Archives). I was lucky to have my pick of flicks. And later when I was a homeless teenager, the woman who worked the ticket booth at the Orson Welles took myself and the 2 Marks in and then I got all the free movies I could stand. And free popcorn. We re-used a small plastic bowl. And beyond the daily double feature there were such bills as “Night of the Killer Bs” at the Somerville Theater in Davis Square. And there was “Schlock Around the Clock” at the Orson Welles, which started the first screening of the night at Midnight.

And one dreary Saturday afternoon Karl Britto and I sat in the balcony of the Brattle and watched “The Singing Detective” in its entirety.

The reason I mention all of this is I want you to understand that I loved going to the movies. Later I became a licensed projectionist. (A Motion Picture Machine Operator.) I worked the booths at the Somerville Theater and the Brattle. This was cool because I could get called into movies at any theater in Boston or Cambridge. (Of course, as a projectionist I got into hot water a couple of times but those stories will have to be shelved for another day.)

Working on the Top 100 Movies is part of a larger project and I’ll describe the scope of that later. But for now I’m watching a lot of films. I’m also working on my criteria. Thus far the following films will not be considered for the Top 100. No bio-pics. No Westerns (because I don’t like them). I’m leaving bio-pics out because I’m going in search of the intersection where art and watch ability intersect. I’m looking for pure works of the imagination. This is not to say there aren’t interesting worthy bio-pics (Malcom X by Spike Lee for instance.) But I watched that Hamilton Woman and I’ve realized that bio-pics can take too many short cuts because the movies expect the viewer to have an understanding of the story going into the film. I prefer to walk into a film cold. Not that I want to be shivering and in need of a sweater and a cup of hot tea. I mean cold as in, “I know very little and now, please blow my mind.”

I was thinking of leaving out Silent-era films. And I’ll have to ponder that some more. The ghosts of Pabst and Eisenstein might get crabby with me.

And that’s where I’m at. But a sneak peak into an upcoming post: “The Man with the Golden Arm,” (the movie) and “Junky” (the book). Sometimes entertainment comes in themes.