Signs

amaya4.0

everyone who hates this movie needs to calm down and eat some fruit or something

Joe A5.0

In the summer of 2002, I went to see Signs with my estranged father. I was too young to go, but a family friend who was a little older than myself had seen it and I wanted to be cool, like him. My dad hastily agreed to take me, likely out of guilt— his attempt to make amends for years of absenteeism— or to avoid hours of awkward conversation— also because of his years absenteeism. We didn’t get along. I didn’t like him and he knew that. But we went.The theater was located in a wealthy suburb of San Diego, an area I dreaded to visit. I may have been young, but I knew we didn’t belong. I lived in a trailer and these people lived in mansions.We sat towards the back, I remember being annoyed we couldn’t sit in the middle but the room was filling so rapidly, my annoyance would quickly be replaced by excitement. The movie started. There’s no need for me to recap the movie but its the first vivid memory I have of watching a movie in a theater that mostly consisted of adults— or what I perceived as adults. But what happened next is what truly stunned me, some of these adults were leaving during parts of the movie. I had never seen this before. I leaned over and whispered to my dad,why are they leaving? He whispered back, they’re afraid. It was like being struck by lightning, his words reverberating throughout my bones. I had never witnessed this and immediately thought this was a ridiculous assertion. That was until I realized that most people had left after the Brazilian home video scene and I had been watching most of the movie with my knees on the seat, in one of those upright fetal positions where my sweater was stretched over my knees.The movie ended and for the second time that night, I experienced something new, I had a conversation with my dad. We talked the entire walk to the car. We talked the entire car ride home. We got ice cream and then talked more at home. I probably said the same sentence 100 times, some variation of how much I loved the movie, but he didn’t mind. For the first time in years, I felt like a normal kid who loved his dad. Signs didn’t save the relationship I had with my father, shortly after he would leave again. Resentment turned to hatred, hatred to pity, pity to apathy. But what Signs did do was give me a memory, a memory where I was the happy son of a loving father, even if it was for a few fleeting hours.

alor5.0

Men only have two moods:1. "Aaahhhhh, I am insane with anger!!!" and 2. "We're gonna beat your ass, bitch!!" 😠