Watching Top Gun in Tehran
At 5 o'clock every Monday afternoon when I was in my early teens, Masoud rang our doorbell. He would flash a toothy smile when I opened the door. Tall and bony, in his early 30s, he'd walk with long strides into the hallway and then our living room ...
December 11, 2014
At 5 o’clock every Monday afternoon when I was in my early teens, Masoud rang our doorbell. Tall and bony, in his early 30s, he’d walk with long strides into the hallway and then our living room, his black boxy briefcase in his hand. our rendezvous took place at the same time every week. But for years, my sister, Goli, and I made sure one of us was there to greet him. Once in the living room, Masoud would place his briefcase on the coffee table, lift its top with care, and then turn it around so Goli and I could peer inside at his precious cargo: rows of neatly arranged Betamax and, later, VHS tapes, labels... Masoud would tap on each tape as he gave us a staccato rundown of what he had to offer. “This is a horror movie, and you won’t like it,” he said on one visit, knowing what genre of movies we preferred. It won the Academy Award this year. You’ll love it. ”. “Not the silly crocodile man,” Goli interrupted. I promise to bring you the Academy Award show next week,” he said, knowing how eager we were to see it. The Oscars had been awarded over a month earlier, and Masoud usually had several copies of the show. Goli picked up an MTV show along with Out of Africa.