My first R-Rated film was a little police procedural Slasher hybrid called 10 TO MIDNIGHT starring CHARLES BROSON. I believe I was only 7 years old when the film premiered on HBO. My parents and some assorted aunts and uncles were gathered around the TV watching this trashy flick and nobody seemed to notice that I was even there. The plot, as interpreted by my 7 year old mind, goes like this: A serial killer gets naked and then kills naked women; it is up to a detective (Bronson) to kill the serial killer.

My most distinct memory of the film is when the killer goes after a black girl. This gorgeous and quite voluptuous young woman is taking a very steamy shower when the killer strikes. The image of a nude
man stabbing the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen (up to that point) has stayed with me for over two decades.

While this shower-scene-gone-terribly-wrong is taking place, my aunt looks at me with a bewildered look on her face, as though she just noticed I’m even in the room. She then looks to my mother and she says, “Should Ricky be watching this?”

My mom, without missing a beat, says, “Oh, he won’t remember this!”

I have yet to revisit 10 TO MIDNIGHT since that fateful night, despite the fact that it has finally appeared on DVD. This memory is too special (for good and for bad reasons) for me and I’m worried that seeing the film again will spoil it for me. Was my obsession with horror films (especially Slashers) hatched right there and then? Probably. One thing’s for sure, my mother’s theory on the absorbency of the adolescent mind could probably have used a little work.

Hey kids, go crash the non-stop viewing party at Richard’s great site Doomed Moviethon.