Dear Dad...

Someone's having a very big birthday today

Dear Dad…

I spent my Sunday afternoon working, and as I worked, I threw on On Her Majesty’s Secret Service. I haven’t seen it in a while, and I was just reading this big book that is an oral history of the production of the entire Bond franchise, and it sort of got me itching to see this particular one again.

And of course, watching a Bond film always makes me think of you. It’s impossible for me to think of James Bond and not think of you. Like… I literally can’t imagine how to untangle that connection. For me, James Bond started on an afternoon in 1977 when you told me you were going to take me to the theater to see a film with you, and I remember being surprised that it was just you and me. You and Mom had certainly taken me to see movies before that, and Star Wars had just turned my little brain inside out a few months earlier, so I know I had the movie bug already. I know we’d seen Smokey and the Bandit together that summer, but I don’t think that one was just you and me. It seemed special that you would want to take me to see something by yourself, and on the way there, I remember you telling me a little bit about James Bond the character, enough that by the time we sat down, I knew that this was something you were excited about, and that made me excited because I wanted to see what it was that you liked so much.

In some ways, The Spy Who Loved Me remains the gold standard by which I judge film experiences. That opening sequence, ending with the ski dive off the mountain and the reveal of the Union Jack parachute, was all it took for me to fall in love with Bond, and by the end of the opening title sequence, I was pretty sure I was interested in girls. Very interested in girls. And also that James Bond was the coolest guy ever. I mean, he had an underwater car.

An underwater car, for god’s sake!

When I show my boys films now, I always think of that afternoon or the evening we drove to the Tampa Theater to see Red River when I was 15, moments when you showed me a film that was significant to you, and you did more than just casually turn it on. You set the stage for me, and you let me know that something special was about to happen. Those experiences were set in my mind because it was clear that you were going out of your way to share something with me. I hope that when my boys are older, there are films and filmmakers that automatically make them think of time we spent together.

I really can’t believe you’re 80 years old today.

Holy crap. I find that more often than ever, I grouse about being old these days, but that’s just me adjusting to the reality that I am (hopefully) going to keep aging. I should stop grumbling and start paying attention to the way you’re doing it because, more than ever, you inspire me.

Part of what I find so inspirational about you is the way you’ve embraced your retirement. When you were still working, I remember Mom talking about how impossible it was going to be to get you to finally walk away and take some time for yourself. Not only did you do it, but you’ve really flourished as a retired person. You’ve leaned into your own art, something that seems to have made you happy in a whole new way, and knowing that you can embrace new experience so completely at every stage in life is something that is important to keep in mind.

Part of it is that you remain open to new things. You don’t love everything you see these days… in fact, you seem to love less of it than ever before, but that’s not a surprise. You were a teenager in the ‘50s. You’ve seen entertainment go from pre-television to whatever the hell Quibi is, and you’ve gone from being an underseen demographic to being the dominant demographic in the world to being an underseen demographic again. There was a point in time when all of the entertainment was being made for you, directed at you, targeted at you, and that time is fairly brief for all of us. Or at least it used to be. My generation made the decision at some point that childhood never ends, and so we’re still making and watching the exact same things we loved when we were kids. I’ll admit it… that’s weird. It’s also bent pop culture into a very strange kind of feedback loop where they just keep making the same stuff over and over. I love that you will try almost anything, even when studios are making nonsense like Transformers: Rise of the Fallen, and I hope I stay as open to new entertainment as you’ve always been.

I wish you were going to be here in LA in April. I’d love to see the new Bond film in the theater with you. It’s very likely the last time Daniel Craig’s suiting up, and it’s been fun actually caring about James Bond again for the last decade and a half. One of the greatest moments I’ve ever had during a visit to a studio was when I got to goof around during the making of Casino Royale and I was on Pinewood for another film. Just knowing that James Bond was in the actual James Bond 007 soundstage while I was there made me giddy. It made me feel connected somehow to that thing that you passed along to me, and I knew the first person I would tell that story to would be you. I’d love for the boys to see one James Bond film with their grandfather, so they could have that same memory I did. As it is, we’ll dedicate that day to you, and I’ll do my best to make it as special for them as you did for me.

You may have introduced me to Steve McQueen, Bruce Lee, Paul Newman, James Bond, John Wayne, Charles Bronson, Clint Eastwood, and a whole slew of other iconic Hollywood tough guys, but you’ve always been my hero and my role model, and you continue to set the bar preposterously high for me in every way.

Happy 80th, Pop. Here’s hoping this is just the start of your second wind.

I love you, old man.

Drew