Читать книгу The Rise of Comic Book Movies - Benny Potter - Страница 6

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Foreword

I must’ve been three years old when my father brought home that damned inflatable Batman. That godforsaken sack of grey and blue plastic. I’m sure my father meant well. I mean, I was a boy, and that was Batman. It made sense! My memory of receiving the toy is faint, but what he did with it later is as crystal clear as if it happened yesterday. You see, I was a mischievous little one, and I just couldn’t live without perusing my father’s cabinet of cassette tapes. It didn’t matter how great the band was—Creedence Clearwater Revival, Dire Straits, The Beatles—if that shiny brown tape could be removed, I was going to make sure my parents found me with it all of its inside contents strewn across the entire room.

I don’t blame my father for what he did, if I found my child destroying my film collection, I certainly wouldn’t react calmly. But still, the image of that inflatable Batman COMING ALIVE is burned into my brain.

Of course, it didn’t really come to life. But at that age, I was positive that when I crawled over to my father’s cabinet, opened it, and Batman popped out… I was witnessing the demonic possession of an inflatable superhero.

My devious father had realized that the most effective way to keep me from getting into his cabinet would be to terrify me. So, he’d placed that horrible toy inside the cabinet, closing the doors in just the right way so that when I opened them—and he somehow knew I would—Batman would pop out. I cried for a long time, and I’ve spent the last twenty-four years since then hearing my father tell everyone with a pair of ears how hilarious that was. Thanks, Dad.

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