Last night I went to EPCOT and saw Michael Jackson’s Captain EO, the 3-D movie that was a collaboration between Jackson, George Lucas and Francis Ford Coppola. I went to the Magic Kingdom, saw the Carousel of Progress and got to marvel at the fact that Walt Disney put this all together in 1964. And then I got to watch the original Electric Parade.
I flashed back to being 10, going with my dad to see Captain EO. Just my dad and me, leaving my mom and siblings behind. “The men”, out on the town. We went on rides, ate food that my mother would have frowned at, and had the best night of our lives. We stayed until the park closed and the parade had stopped, and it was late and dark and empty on the road when we headed home. On the way back home, we stopped at Perkins and had some Mother Butler pie. The memory, one of the very few that I have of quality time with my father, is still crystal clear, like it happened yesterday.
And while tonight’s viewing of Captain EO reminded me how cheesy and horrible it was, and the 3D was miserably done, and the Carousel of Progress is peeling and getting more decrepit each year, and the parade is like the masturbatory wet dream of a cracked out artist, the memories they elicited were just as magical as the first time.