The First Time I Ever Watched.

Humorist Kevin Lawson has stepped away from his usual survival guide duties, and has decided to explore his movie maven tendencies. From The Godfather to Forrest Gump, from On The Waterfront to Some Like It Hot, Lawson shares his recollections of a life spent in total darkness, armed only with a box of popcorn and a soft spot for classic films.

The Godfather

So, I finally decided to watch "The Godfather." You know, that movie that everyone claims is the pinnacle of cinema, the film that supposedly defines the mob genre and has been quoted more times than any other film in history. I mean, how could I resist? It's like saying no to pizza. You just don't do it. So, armed with a bowl of popcorn and a slightly stale soda, I settled in for what I thought would be a cultural experience.

First off, let's talk about the opening scene. It's dark, it's moody, and it's just a bunch of people talking. And not even interesting talking! It's like they're having a really serious conversation about... well, I don't even know what. I'm sitting there, popcorn halfway to my mouth, thinking, "Is this a movie or a really long episode of a soap opera?" I mean, I'm all for character development, but come on! If I wanted to watch people talk without any action, I'd just go to my family reunion.

And then there's Marlon Brando. Oh, Marlon Brando! The man is a legend, but can we talk about his voice for a second? He sounds like he's trying to talk while chewing on a mouthful of mashed potatoes. I found myself leaning forward, straining to catch every word. I had to turn on the subtitles, which felt like cheating, but I wasn't about to miss any of this legendary dialogue. I mean, I had to know what the "offer I can't refuse" was all about. Spoiler alert: It's not a pizza delivery.

As the movie progresses, the plot thickens, and I'm still trying to keep up. There are family dynamics, betrayals, and enough drama to fill a season of reality TV. But here's the kicker: I couldn't help but chuckle at the sheer absurdity of it all. These guys are mobsters, right? They're supposed to be tough, but they spend half the movie sitting around a table, discussing their feelings. I half expected one of them to pull out a therapist's couch and start venting about their childhood. "You know, Vito, I just feel like my father never really understood me."

And don't get me started on the wedding scene. It's like the world's most awkward family gathering, but with more guns and less potato salad. Everyone is dressed to the nines, and there I am in my pajamas, feeling like I crashed a party I wasn't invited to. I mean, who has a wedding where the guests are more intimidating than the bride and groom? I half expected the DJ to start playing "Gangsta's Paradise" instead of the traditional wedding march.

Oh, and the food! They're always eating, and I'm sitting there, staring at my sad little bowl of popcorn. I swear, if I see one more cannoli, I might just lose it. I felt like I was watching a cooking show where the main ingredient is guilt. "Hey, you want a cannoli? Sure, but remember, you owe me a favor. And, by the way, that favor might involve breaking a few kneecaps."

As the movie reached its climax, I realized I was invested. I was cheering for the Corleones, despite the fact that they were basically running a crime syndicate. I mean, how did I get here? I started the night thinking I was going to watch a classic, and here I was, emotionally rooting for a family of mobsters. I was in too deep...