Last weekend, I took Suzanne to see the new stop-motion animated film Wildwood. It’s a fantasy piece about a young girl who tries to rescue her baby brother, who is captured and taken to a mystical world just past the railroad tracks in Portland, Oregon.
And when I say “stop-motion animation,” I’m not talking about those old herky-jerky movements of a Rankin-Bass holiday special. Every character in this movie flowed and moved as if they were real. Everything moved with a grace and skill that must have taken decades to perfect.
Just look at the trailer. You’ll see what I mean.
Trust me. This story addresses so much that you wouldn’t normally find in an animated movie. Especially the concepts of death and grief, all draped around a fantasy world with talking animals and interconnected realms. It was a two-hour movie that just felt perfect.
It was also technically our second movie together; if you also count earlier in the week when I took Suzanne to the shadow cast performance of The Rocky Horror Picture Show at the Palace Theater in downtown Albany. While that was a more participatory adventure, Wildwood allowed us to relax and enjoy the film without worrying about getting doused with bird seed or toilet paper rolls.
For me, it was a chance to take a full look at the past few months. How I thought at one point that I would spend the rest of my life as someone no one could ever truly love. The spurtive previous attempts at romance, that all fell like clay cups onto concrete.
And then something changed. Maybe it was a different perspective. Maybe it was the divine hand of a celestial being who finally said to himself, “Chuck’s gone through enough. He deserves some flowers.” Or it could be a hundred thousand different things.
And in that theater, all I could think of … as I watched this fantasy movie … was that the girl to my immediate right has gone on adventures with me. Photo trips. Train excursions. And I’ve gone on adventures with her. Art shows. Karaoke nights. Heck, even a trip to Costco can be romantic if you’re in the right frame of mind.
And each adventure, each get together, each connection has brought us closer. She’s spoken with my son Kris. I met her family. This all seems like it’s working.
And as the closing credits spooled on the Wildwood film, Suzanne said to me, “Wait a second, there might be an end credits scene.” Ah, she knows the drill. Almost every film now has some sort of end credits scene, something that either sets up a sequel or pays off one dangling plot point.
Well … no sign of any clues for a Wildwood 2 sequel, at least not from the film footage.
But as we left the theater, Suzanne turned to me. She took her hands and placed them on my cheeks.
And she looked me dead straight in the eyes.
And she whispered three words.
Yes. THOSE three words.
Unprompted. Out of the blue. The three words I thought would only be said to me by accident or in jest. But she meant them. I could see it in her honey eyes.
Yeah. THAT was the true end credits scene that definitely encouraged me for more adventures.
More adventures for both of us. Whatever it takes.
We can do it. Together.
And I’m totally good with that.
Oh yeah, and if you get a chance, see the Wildwood movie. It’s absolutely breathtaking. π
I would also recommend the movie Wildwood. It was fabulous. There were scenes where Chuck grasped his chest, cried out and at one point I thought he was crying. The animation was spectacular, story line and plot at times gut wrenching. Pink lemonade and buttered popcorn topped off a great movie experience. Holding hands in the almost empty theater I glanced over, to find him staring. Hmmmm, ummm ok. Then it hit me the warm fuzzy, smile on my face, tingle in my tummy. So like any terrified adult I told him and braced for impact. The shock and wonder on his face priceless, biggest smile ever. Next adventure on the horizon, together.
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