From the Master

If you were watching an independent film, you'd probably be best off seeing it on the NYU campus. For a political documentary, you'd get a lot of perspective watching it at Berkeley. For a Star Trek production, you'd be best off at M.I.T. But if you were watching a Herbie movie, there's no better theater than our family room, seated right next to Ian. Daniel is one of the few people to be able to learn "on the spot," watching these movies, again and again and again, with the world's expert on Herbie Studies. Ian has watched all those self-absorbed little mini-commentaries that accompany the DVD, and understands the real story of Herbie better than most people understand local or national politics - especially in America.

Tonight, the three children were watching "Herbie Goes Bananas" - a production with which we're all quite familiar. I was in the dining room, and Amy was telling me about the day's adventures, but there was a point when I knew I had to turn from everyday spousal chatter to the hard academics of the next room: it was the point in the movie when Herbie "walks the plank." In this particular film, the cheesy American crew on the tacky cruise liner where Herbie is a passenger, has finally figured out that Herbie really is riding around on the ship, making mischief - or what would seem mischief to anyone who didn't know Herbie's deeper purposes. Herbie, of course, is "the Love Bug" - a VW Beetle circa 1968, trapped in a series of daffy 70's movies - who rides by himself and undertakes all kinds of feats, using his mobility, his doors, his headlights, etc. to help good people and hurt lurking villains.

So there's a point in this movie when the crew realizes that Herbie is a "loose cannon" - that he's driving around the ship doing things that seem mischievous, and so they decide to get rid of him by making him "walk the plank"; they actually push him over the edge of the ship, and as he falls, he "cries," letting out long, slow, mournful honks. (I have to admit, this thought made even me sad, not to mention Ian, when we learned from one of these mini-documentary commentary pieces that follow the film, that Herbie was actually "crying.") Of course, our sorrow is all for nought; as soon as Herbie lands in the Pacific, he floats, finds his way ashore, and completes his mission of preventing a couple of goofy American bad-guys from stealing some Mayan ruins.

But anyway, I understood the solemnity of this moment in the film, so I gave my full attention to the "theater" in the next room, and of course, Ian did not disappoint. As Herbie was being ritually, mercilessly dumped over the edge of the ship, Ian commented to his understudy:

"Daniel, did you know that this is known as the saddest moment in History of Herbie?"

(February 20, 2012)