If you’re reading this and you’re over 40, then you know the magnitude of the following two words in the early 90s: Basic Instinct. We’re talking Sharon Stone at her apex, THE SCENE (you know which one), and an unbelievable amount of nudity and sex in a non-X-rated movie. You remember where you were when you saw it, especially if you were a young teenage boy and you weren’t supposed to see it yet. That was me back then. And this is where we begin our story:

It’s the summer of ’92 and I’m visiting my grandparents solo in Florida. I’m 14.  

The main activities were the dog track, dinner at 5pm & movies with my grandfather.  He wasn’t into movies so he’d see whatever I wanted as long as it was “appropriate”. That’s when I hatched a devious plan that turned disastrous…

First thing to keep in mind:  

We weren’t seeing movies on opening weekend.  No.  

My grandfather did not spend money on entertainment. We were hitting the Delray 6 Cineplex built in like 1958.  $2 movie tickets for films that had come out months earlier.  

Now to point #2…

The movies available to me on this trip in the summer of ’92  were the new releases that came out in the spring of ’92. No opening weekends. These were movies (back then) caught in the dead period:  

Two months out of the theater and 5 months from being released  at Blockbuster.

So…

In the spring of ’92 the ultimate, “I want to see this but I’m too young but I’m a teenage boy how can I see this” movie came out:  

Basic Instinct  

This is pre-internet. I was in 8th grade. I knew NOTHING about it other than Sharon Stone was hot and I heard you saw boobs…

So I float to my grandpa that we should go see Basic Instinct. I dance around the plot and why I’m excited and call it a “Michael Douglas” movie. The guy from Wall Street (which I also hadn’t seen).  My grandfather says “fine”, then out of nowhere asks my grandmother to come.  

Whaaat? She never came to movies with us. Ever. But apparently she liked Michael Douglas. Who knew?

Now I’m freaking out.  

Remember, I don’t know much about this movie, but I KNOW my grandmother shouldn’t see it. Especially with me. But there wasn’t anything I could do. I wanted to see it and couldn’t think of a way to tell my papa that grammy shouldn’t go because of, well, graphic sex and tons of naked women and all the things grandmothers shouldn’t see with their grandsons.

So off we went… The whole ride to the theater I’m half-excited / half-terrified. Then we pull up.  Get 3 tickets for $6. Get 3 popcorns for $3 and…  

The theater is PACKED.  

It’s loaded with horny old WWII vets wanting to see Sharon Stone naked.  

“This must be some picture,” my grandmother says….

Oh boy…

My grandparents wave to various friends as we try to find three seats. I’m mortified, realizing what’s about to happen. What have I done?  

We end up in the 2nd row up front.  

Me, jammed in between my grandfather and grandmother. I’m a sandwich of humiliation.  

Then, the movie starts…

Now. I don’t know if you remember the beginning of Basic Instinct.

But there’s nudity. And hardcore sex. And more nudity.  

And I’m watching it. In public. 

Sitting between my grandparents…  

I wanted to disappear. But it gets worse.

As the opening credits rolled and as the sex on the screen gets more intense…  

My grandfather blurts out so the whole theater can hear:  

“You see that, Geraldine! We should have been actors!”  

The joke brings the house down. 

It was like a peak Chris Rock punch line.  

The entire room of old dudes is hysterical. Then, my papa says loudly:

“You’re not gonna believe this! But my grandson took us to see this picture! I should listen to him more often!”  

Another wave of laughter rocks the theater.  

I wanted to shrink to nothing.  

I didn’t know embarrassment could make you shake.  

But I was vibrating… Sweat poured over my whole body. 

For the next 100 minutes or so I had to watch Sharon Stone’s boobs ten feet tall on the big screen in the front row.  

Sitting between my grandparents.  

Red faced. Filled with regret. 

What a movie though. 

And what a memory.

 If this made you laugh, think, nod, or say “yep,” get Jon’s next Manalogue delivered straight to your inbox here.

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Jon Finkel
Editor-in-Chief, Midlife Male
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Check out my latest books at jonfinkel.com

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