Scary Movies

When Adri was around 6 or 7, she used to like watching “scary movies,” and that didn’t mean stuff like “Halloween” or “Scream” or what have you, but rather selections from the old Universal Monster movies oeuvre of the 1930s and 40s. An hour and twenty-minute black and white stuff such as “Bride of Frankenstein,” “Creature from the Black Lagoon,” “The Mummy,” etc.

I had enjoyed these films as well when I was her age, watching them every Friday night on Creature Features on WGN in Chicago during the summers when I was allowed to stay up late enough to view them, usually on a small black & white 10-inch TV in my bedroom with the lights out. It was fun. It was fun to be scared just a bit watching these over-the-top movies that relied more on atmosphere and lighting rather than gore and terror.

One of her favorites, the one she wanted to watch the most, was “The Wolf Man,” starring Lon Chaney, Jr. and his scenery chewing performance. I think what drew her in was the transformation from man to wolf depicted in the cutting-edge special effects of the time: a slow stop-motion sequence that showed the sprouting hair and brow ridge form under the dangerous moonlight.

However, at one point her granny in Louisville told me that she shouldn’t be watching such movies, that they terrified her and she was having bad dreams. It surprised me given my interactions with her and discussions about this when she was with me, but I promised to address it the next time Adri was with me.

We did, because literally the first night she was back after dinner she asked if we could watch “The Wolf Man.”

“But I hear that it is scaring you too much, that you’re having bad dreams,” I said.  “Maybe we should watch “The Aristocats” instead.”

“Well, sometimes I’m afraid that the Wolf Man will come and get me, that’s all,” she countered.

I reminded her that it was just a movie, and she agreed, but then countered with “…but you never know.”

We watched something else that night and I told her we’d try something the next day.

I had an old gaudy ring that I had found as a kid at some second-hand shop. It was brass with a coiled dragon on top with “ruby” eyes… and it opened up with a secret compartment! It was great. I showed her the ring and told her it had magical powers, that it was able to ward off werewolves, mummies, and various other creepy ghoulies.

She looked at the ring with extreme skepticism, took it in her hand and examined it like she was some grad student working on her doctorate thesis in archeology before looking up at me slowly shaking her head and replied,

“But daddy, there’s no such thing as magical rings!”

“True,” I agreed, “but then there’s no such thing as Wolf Men, either, right?”

She sat for a few seconds in pensive silence, then slowly nodded and put the ring on one of her fingers, and that was that.

We watched “The Wolf Man” that day.

Adrianna always faced her fears head-on. She’d use reason and logic when necessary to tackle issues and problems she might have faced, but was also willing to make room for emotion and intangible factors when trying to explain and assimilate with the world she found herself in. She had both a complex brain as well as heart, and I miss her.