Here’s another reason I love living in NYC — on a random Wednesday night its possible to see an obscure classic of Soviet Cinema. Mne dvadsat let (I am Twenty) by Marlen Khutsiev was playing at MoMA last Wednesday. It was a great, sprawling film. The MoMA description describes it as “evoking the spiritual, intellectual, and sexual restlessness of young Muscovites during the Thaw.” And indeed 1965 Moscow did look very hip in this film. The signature scene of the film comes at the very end when the main character Sergei encounters the ghost / vision of his father who died in the trenches of WW2. Sergei has so much to ask his father, there is so much he wants to learn from him. His ghost/ vision father ask Sergei how old he is. Sergei replies that he is 23. And then his father responds, I am only 21. The scene is moving. And it came to mind again just a couple days ago when my son Huck, who is 8, asked me if I had any pictures of “the guy who helped make him” (Huck was made with the help of a sperm donor). I told him I did have a picture of the guy, but in the picture the guy is actually the same age Huck. Huck didn’t say anything. I’m guessing he just filed the information away to revisit later. But I wondered how odd it could be to show Huck the photo of his “donor dad”. The photo is of a kid. It’s a school picture with a bluish sky background. The kid is dressed up with a button up shirt and a pointy collar. What would Huck make of a little boy his same age being his “dad”. And so, for a brief moment that final scene in I am Twenty came to my mind. Fathers, sons, time… Anyway. Maybe I’ll just file this thought away, to revisit later.