My Cinematic Valentine

Valentine’s Day. Whoohoo, right?

I am not a fan of Valentine’s Day. This year I’m single, but even when I’m not single I’m not a fan of this day. I feel it is a holiday glorified by corporate America to get us to consume, buy, marry and reproduce.

e7b9e0ecca5b12d74e8d096810fe3070

I refuse to submit!

Some people might think it’s odd I have a disdain for this day, because I’m a romantic. Albeit a bitter one, but a romantic nevertheless. I guess I find it to be a day of false affection and that’s offensive to my romantic sensibilities.

Despite my bitterness about this holiday, I’m not too bitter this year because this year is Pris from Blade Runner’s incept date!

cbmo6mwukaarznq

No man will ever surpass my love of Blade Runner. I love this movie and have been in love with it my whole life.

One of my earliest memories as a child was when my father bought surround sound speakers. We watched two movies that night. Top Gun and Blade Runner. I remember sitting on the living room floor and feeling the floor shake and my body jolt because the opening shot of Blade Runner is a BOOM followed by credits. This wonderful feeling of excitement and anticipation increased when the screen shifts to an opening shot of an alternate Los Angeles and again Bum Bah Bah! The music soars, these pipes are blasting out fire, and then I see a closeup of Harrison Ford’s eye. It was love at first sight for me.

After that initial viewing, I asked my mom so many questions about it. What’s with those pipe things? Why are there so many fake animals? Why did you close my eyes during that one part? What happened during that? Why did they hurt that eye guy? He seemed nice. Can you play the Blade Runner soundtrack again Mom?

Then there’s the somewhat narcissistic question. Did you name me after Rachael Mom?

The answer was yes. I’ll admit that this is part of the reason I love the movie. When I watch it, I can’t help but get this image of my mother sitting on our couch pregnant as my father puts in a VHS copy of Blade Runner. I see them sitting next to each other, holding hands. When Rachael is introduced, I see my mother turning to my father and saying. “Rachael, that’s a pretty name, maybe we should name our baby Rachel if it’s a girl.”

My Dad smiles and says, “Yes that is a pretty name. I think we should.”

And so they did. They spelled it differently, but they still named me Rachel.

When my mother first visited me in LA the first thing I wanted to do was see The Bradbury. I still haven’t topped my level of getting geeked out as I did that day. My mother was calmly admiring the place and I was like. “Oh my god Mom! Oh my god! This is amazing! Look at the ceiling! Oh my god, that elevator! Can we go up to the top? Can we use the elevator? We can’t! Man! I want to go up to the top! Do these people know how lucky they are to work here?! I’m so jealous of them! I gotta get rich and famous so I can buy a loft at the top. It’s gotta happen Mom.”

I watched Blade Runner in a theater recently. No matter how often I’ve seen this film I still have the same feelings I had as a child when I see it. I can feel my heart soar and burst with love. I know it’s odd. I just love this movie.

I mean I almost cried during the opening shots this time around too. I had to cover my face similar to my profile picture on here because I was surrounded by strangers and didn’t want to freak anyone out with my level of geekdom and passion.

So here’s to you Blade Runner! When I’m down, out, and lonely I’ll always have you. You are the love of my life and I’m ok with it.

giphy.gifgiphy (1)

Advertisements

One thought on “My Cinematic Valentine

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s