Preparing for a Christmas trip to London, I thought it might be nice to find some movies to watch with my kid that could help give some context to the whole travel enterprise. Why, let's watch "Oliver," I cried!
If that sounds remedial and kind of stupid, considering there are approximately a million other movies, documentaries or BBC series that would do a bang up job, blame it on "The Tower." Last week, we all gathered around the tele to take a gander at a PBS show dedicated to the central London landmark, only to have The 15 Year Old shrink into the couch with each beheading. Thanks a lot, Henry VIII. The bloody hatchets and tales of botched attempts and Sir Thomas More's head on a stick REALLY primed the pump for this attraction!
Which somehow led us to "Oliver," a movie I still recall my own mother taking me to see, not to mention the brain-numbing number of times I stood in my room and sang along with Mark Lester's warbling rendition of "Where Is Love?"
While it's no "Downton Abbey" or "Othello," it is Dickensian, so it qualified as suitable preparatory material -- except that before we could ever get to the film, we were sidetracked by a far more compelling story, which is that Little Oliver grew up to be the father of Michael Jackson's daughter, Paris, which is what Lester claimed and which photos of Lester's own kids compared to Paris Jackson kind of make indisputable, save for the delusional fact that Michael Jackson perpetrated the myth that HE was the biological father of Paris.
As you can probably guess, The 15 Year Old really liked this educational trip down the Interweb rabbit hole more than actually watching the damn movie.
I used to write politics, news and sports for newspapers in cities like Albany NY, Seattle, Baltimore and Harrisburg PA. Now I take a lot of Instagram photos, check Facebook, swim, read about T$$$p and cook dinner for people I really like. New York native, living in Port Washington and Greenfield Center (that's near Saratoga Springs FYI).