By Creating fond family memories ranks high priority for me. That’s exactly why I like to give “experiences” to my loved ones for Chanukah (instead of eight materialistic tchotchkes that just sit on shelves, gathering dust) so when my elderly mother suggested I treat her to see the movie Wicked, I saw no harm in complying.
The first red flag should’ve been ridiculously obvious. Mom wore her bright red sparkly pumps. “I’m so excited!” she exclaimed as we stood in line. Then she punctuated her enthusiasm by clicking her heels together three times, which was red flag number two … and one that also went over my head! And that’s a real shame because what happened next could have been avoided, had I been able to help manage her expectations. “When is that cute farmgirl Dorothy gonna tell us she’s not in Kansas anymore??!” she repeatedly hissed over the next two hours and forty minutes of the film.
This behavior did NOT exactly endear her to the hundreds of movie-goer neighbors who were seated nearby. But they tolerated it better than her other diatribe in which she kvelled… “Goldblum, Goldblum….Jeff Goldblum? Gotta be Jewish, right? Well, what do you know? The Wizard of Oz is a member of our tribe! What a mensch!”
Then there was that first incredible solo that Ariana Grande belted out, after which my mother turned to me and immediately proclaimed, “Cousin Esther lip-syncs that song so much better than this girl does.”
Speaking of music, naturally the volume was far too loud for her liking, so I had to enlighten her. “It’s called Dolby Surround Sound for a reason, Mom. So you feel like you’re actually in “Emerald City.” To which she retorted… “Hmmph! The entire time we were married, your father never once bought me any Emerald jewelry, even though he knew darn well it was my birthstone!” Okaaaayyyy.
About halfway through the movie she evidently became bored because she started showing off her wicked witch impersonation, admittedly terrifying when performed while wearing dentures. “I’ll get you, my Pretty! And your little dog too!” I overheard the concerned mother next to us reassure her tearful little girl that their labradoodle was safely waiting for her back home. Sigh…
But just as I allowed myself get emotionally involved with what was transpiring onscreen, I was startled to find an usher standing over my mother, ordering her to turn off her cellphone flashlight—which I didn’t even realize she knew how to use! Sure enough, I glanced down to see her large white purse glowing obnoxiously brighter than the colorful hot-air balloon featured in the critical Defying Gravity climax—a moment the entire audience had been looking forward to for years. “My mouth is dry and I’m trying to locate a piece of gum. So sue me!” she said indignantly as dozens of sticks of Wrigley’s pelted us from annoyed patrons.
It was in this moment I wished I only had a Brain to quickly flee the cinema. Or the Courage to apologize to the entire audience. Or the Heart to tell my mother that while we all find her personality adorably charming, not everybody shares this sentiment.
When at last the movie mercifully came to its dramatic conclusion and the words “To Be Continued” flashed on the screen, my mother stood up and announced to the entire theater, “Don’t worry! None of this really matters because it’s all just a bad dream she had after getting a nasty bump on her keppie.” Then she matter-of-factly whispered into my ear, “Prequel Shmrequel! They never even sang ‘Ease On Down the Road!’ Get your money back, dear.”
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