Hell, upside down.

Today's release of Poseidon and Paul's recent post on the same subject have taken me back to my childhood growing up in San Diego. When I was very little and my parents were scraping to get by, every Friday night was movie night. We'd pack all kinds of snacks and goodies and pile into the car to go down to the local drive-in. Since I always fell asleep about halfway through the movie, I would be all dressed for bed in my jammies with the feet in them and would bring along a pillow. I think I probably even brought "Tuffy," my mangy, erstwhile stuffed dog teddy bear surrogate.

I remember those nights very fondly. Munching on Milk Duds and popcorn, slurping Cokes, wondering why anyone would like Good-n-Plenty. Spending the time in close proximity to my parents, sharing quality time. And then there were the films themselves. I remember watching Billy Jack kick the bejeezus out of the townies that poured a milkshake on the head of an innocent Indian boy. I remember the immortal words of The Lawgiver: "Ape Must Not Kill Ape." Robert Redford, against his better judgement, leading the moronic whitey soldiers through the Crow burial ground in "Jeremiah Johnson." Not understanding a damn bit of "Paper Moon." Lots of Disney.

But none of those cinematic experiences will ever match the impact that Irwin Allen's Poseidon Adventure had on me. For you see, dear reader, the PA was a watershed moment for me. It marked the first time I ever managed to stay awake for the whole picture.

Maybe it was the hard-charging, gung-ho attitude of Gene Hackman. Or the leggy performances of Carol Lynley and Pamela Sue Martin. (Sure I was only 4, but come on). Perhaps I felt a sort of kinship with young Eric Shea, who played Master Robin Shelby. Shelby's boyish curiosity about the mighty SS Poseidon lead to more than one clever recommendation as the survivors tried to escape their underwater tomb. Or better yet, maybe it was Roddy McDowell's riveting performance as jolly, injured English waiter "Acres." Liberated from his ape suit, McDowell mesmerized the audience with his disshevled limp. You always found yourself asking..."When is Acres going to get it?" Then again, maybe it was the spirited, loving interplay between veteran performers Jack Albertson and Shelly Winters. Watching "Belle" brandish her swimming medal before taking the plunge at the behest of Hackman was inspiring, but watching her swim was deeply troubling. I'm not sure what it was, but something about Poseidon Adventure made me want to see it through to the end.

In the days since I first saw PA, I watch it nearly every time I see it on TV. It remains as fresh and vital as it was when I first watched with my parents. And, yes, I will probably be going to the theater this weekend to see the Josh Lucas version. I know it won't be as good as the original, but it is interesting that I will go see it the first weekend it is out, which is something I only do with a handful of movies. I think the last time I did that it was for the re-make of Planet of the Apes. Do the math.

While the film surely won't be as good, neither will the experience. I won't be in a car with my parents and Tuffy. There won't be the same excitement or familiarity. About the only constant will be that Good-n-Plenty still suck. And proving that we all come full circle, I probably won't be able to stay awake for the whole thing.