We watched the 97th Academy Awards show on Sunday. Well, let’s say that I watched it and Dear Richard tolerated it. We’ve only been married for 12 years, and he didn’t realize early on that he had joined a family of dedicated film buffs. Whether you call it film, movies, or cinema, we are three generations who enjoy good flicks. It started early for me.

As a kid, I went every Saturday afternoon. For years. It was so long ago that the ticket price was 12 cents! Candy bars were a nickel and both popcorn and those boxes of Good and Plenty, or Milk Duds were 10 cents. Back then I didn’t have any fillings to worry about. Now I’m convinced that Milk Duds are a wholly owned subsidiary of the American Dental Association.

Candy aside, I loved my four-hour Saturdays at my hometown theater. Cowboy movies and musicals had just begun to be filmed in color. And then, in 1954, everything changed.

My mother took me to my first night movie. I’ll never forget it. I was really surprised that a grown-up film was in black and white, the subject even grittier than the many greys on the screen. The movie was “On the Waterfront” with Marlon Brando. It changed my movie-going experience forever – I came out of the theater stunned. There was no happy ending. These were real people with real problems in a challenging adult world. The film focused on union violence and corruption among longshoremen, while detailing widespread extortion and racketeering on the waterfronts of Hoboken, New Jersey. Saturday movies suddenly became kids’ stuff.

I was too young to know that the writer, director, and a wonderful cast were the reason why. And naturally, it was years before I understood that cinematographers, editors, wardrobe experts, and an army of other specialists are also critical. Little did I know that my first grown-up movie was so important.

“On the Waterfront” is considered one of the greatest films ever made. It received twelve Academy Award nominations and won eight, including Best Picture, Best Actor for Brando, Best Supporting Actress for Eve Marie Saint, and Best Director, Elia Kazan. In 1997, it was ranked by the American Film Institute as the eighth-greatest American movie of all time.

It was one of the first 25 films to be deemed “culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant” by the Library of Congress and selected for preservation in the United States National Film Registry.

The only other movie I ever went to with my mother was in 1983 – 29 years later. I cannot forget that one either, but for a very different reason. My dear step-father was very ill, hospitalized, and had opted for a surgery with a small chance of success.

We were in his room the evening before the scheduled procedure. Mom kissing her beloved Fran goodnight, telling him “I’ll see you in the morning.” She sobbed in the elevator as we left the hospital for the 42-mile ride home. I was desperate for a way to lighten her mood.

I pulled into a mall hoping to get dinner and noticed that the movie “Tootsie” was playing at the adjacent cinema. Mom decided she couldn’t eat, so I laughingly said, “Why don’t we go see ‘Tootsie’ and have some popcorn?” She hesitated, then agreed that maybe it could take her mind off her worries for a while.

“Tootsie” was a huge success, starring Dustin Hoffman, Jessica Lange and Teri Garr. Its subject matter was both silly and serious, thought-provoking and funny. It garnered ten Oscar nominations, winning only for Jessica Lange. But “Tootsie” was also esteemed by the Library of Congress and selected for preservation in the national film registry. Mom enjoyed it, and even laughed a bit before returning to her harsh reality. My wonderful step-dad died the next morning.

The specific movie doesn’t really mean much in this story, but it did what a good film is supposed to do. It transported us – its audience – for an hour or two on a difficult night.

After Sunday’s Oscars, I began to think how many significant films I’ve seen, and where, when, and with whom. Quality movies, whether serious, fun, thoughtful, or breaking new ground have been an important element in our family’s learning experiences and delight.

My daughter’s family often goes to “the show” on opening night of a big movie. It’s an occasion. It obviously made a strong impression on the next generation. My granddaughter is a sophomore at New York University majoring in cinema studies. Screenwriting is next on her horizon.

At the Oscar ceremony, there was much talk about seeing movies on the big screen – the best way. My adult children and I do watch films at home, but given a choice, we are in a theater with the big picture, big sound, and a big bucket of popcorn. These days I pass on the Milk Duds.

Marcy O’Brien can be reached at Moby.32@hotmail.com.