Yes. Hell yes. I am so glad this movie was voted in for this year. I would not have minded any of the three movies that I put up, but I was pulling for Ghostbusters. A lot. Ghostbusters has been a prevalent force in my life almost as much as Star Wars, or breathing for that matter. The first movie I ever went to in the theater was Ghostbusters 2. I was a bulbous-headed little boy with an Egon action figure and Ghostbusters footed pajamas. I also had a Ghostbusters sleeping bag.

Imagine this, but decked out in Ghostbuster gear.

When I was starting school I told my mother I wanted to be smart, like Egon. It turns out I am fashioning myself more and more after Peter, but who doesn’t want to be Bill Murray? I mean, come on. He is Bill Murray.

You must understand, as a wee Becca, I was very much in love with the fantasy genre. I had unicorn posters on my wall, read about wizards, and fought dragons daily. As I grew, this evolved into a love of mythology, fairy tales, and fables. However, I would never consider myself a lover of the fantasy genre. I haven’t read any J. R. R. Tolkien. The Lord of the Rings movies were more of a chore than any films deserve to be. I hear that Narnia is a cool place, but the C. S. Lewis novels I own purposefully do not belong to that series. Harry Potter is the closest I’ve come to dipping back into the fantasy genre, and I haven’t read the books or watched the films in years.

Now, as an older Becca, my film preferences have changed. I land more on the side of the science fiction, action, and Western genres, with the occasional chick flick. So, throwing out a children’s fantasy film as one of my favorite movies was a tough decision on my part. But, dear reader, you have to understand that The NeverEnding Story was an adventure film to me. The fantasy elements were only embellishments to the true nature of the story. As a child, I’d pop the VHS in after school and sink into the film like Bastian sinks into the novel. I fiercely wanted to be Bastian. He and I were made of the same stuff, surely. A lonely boy who escapes into books to hide from the imperfect world he inhabits seemed the perfect hero for an 8-year-old. My mother encouraged me to watch it since she wanted me to get the message: read. But I, thinking myself very clever, knew what the real message was: dream.

JURASSIC PARK AND I:

The moment I heard about Jurassic Park, I knew it was a movie I had to see. I’m not sure how old I was (probably six or seven), but I knew that filling an island with dinosaurs was, perhaps, the best idea anyone had ever had. But it was not to be. PG-13 was deemed an inappropriate rating for a child of my age, so I had to be content with watching little bits and pieces on TV. I’m not sure when I finally ended up seeing it in its entirety, but anticipation had not spoiled the experience. It has remained, to this day, a movie that I always feel like watching. I can’t recite it from heart, but I immediately recognize most any quote from it. I frequently get the theme stuck in my head. I simply love it.

I love Jurassic Park THIS MUCH!

As such, it was an obvious choice for year two of this experiment, in which we each will be watching a movie we love. But will the experience of watching Jurassic Park 52 times in as many weeks spoil the movie for me? Will the sense of joy I feel when I watch Nedry taunt Dodgson disappear? Will I cease to enjoy Malcolm’s inquiries regarding the presence of dinosaurs on that dinosaur tour?

Or will things swing the other way? Will I sink into a pit of fandom so deep that I will not be fit for civilized society, unable to have a conversation without slipping in “clever girl,” “hold on to your butts,” or “spared no expense”? (I’m halfway there already.) Will John Williams’s score run a never-ending loop in my brain for all time?

My father committed a grave error in raising me. (At least one that I can clearly identify.) His major sin… was showing me Back to the Future Part III before the other two movies. Were I interested in having tiny Bills, I would never, ever show them a sequel first. This is sacrilege. But, somehow, I coped. Even when Doc sends Marty back in time and there is, for some reason, an older Doc there, even though they’re in the past… Dad, what is going on???

Still, I must have been six years old, as Part III had just been released on VHS. I think this was my first introduction to time travel. Ever. My mind was blown. So you get in the car, you push some buttons, and you are in another year? Give me more, Dad. Who else has this power? How do they do it? What can you show me in a phone booth?

There are two phone booths?!?!

Dad made up for his mistake quickly by renting the original Back to the Future (though not before I saw George Pal’s The Time Machine on TNT). Wow. Just wow. I wasn’t even sure I would like it as much. “So it’s the same movie without cowboys? Lame.” And to be honest, I was smiling, but I wasn’t as nuts about it as III at first. Because kids are stupid. But after a couple of years, I came to see it as an amazing beginning to a great journey.