Stuck in 'The Apartment' Because I'm Not a 'Working Girl'

Movies were movies when you paid a dime to escape. Cheering the hero and hissing the man in the cape. Romance and action and thrills, pardner there’s gold in them hills. – ‘Movies Were Movies’ from “Mack and Mabel”

Having grown up in a family that loved the arts — my mom and I never missed an opportunity to see my dad and my brother, Ben, on stage — we thrived on auditions, rehearsals, opening nights and every night thereafter. I was destined to adore the magic of live theatre: the acting, the dancing, but most importantly, the singing. (I even have a Spotify playlist called “Broadway Baby.”)

Credit: Michael Lifshitz — Dad and me after his performance in "Mack and Mabel" (1999)

When I was a little girl, I remember staying up past my bedtime to watch “Singin’ in the Rain,” “How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying,” “Oliver!” and “Some Like It Hot” (among others) with my dad in our backroom on our 15-inch television. (Mom had fallen asleep on the couch to the nightly news with Sophie, our Vizsla, sleeping at her feet.) My dad would move his hands to the choreography and sing along as I stared at the screen mesmerized by what was in front of me.

And maybe that’s why musicals (including Disney movies, duh) are my favorite genre of movie. Or maybe it’s because I’m just constantly blown away by Gene Kelly and Donald O’Connor every time I watch “Singin’ in the Rain.”

I’ve always loved movies but have never had a chance to sit down and watch some of Hollywood’s most revered stars in all their glory. And that’s why Currie — my roommate and one of my best friends — and I set out on a mission almost six weeks ago to watch as many classic movies as we could during L.A.’s stay-at-home initiative.

Today we hit No. 104.

We asked our friends and families to recommend some of their favorites, and Currie — a pop-culture mastermind — used his affinity for film to cover everything from the first sound film to win an Oscar (“The Broadway Melody” in 1929) to a beloved Fred Willard comedy (“Waiting for Guffman" in 1996).

We watched masterpieces of film noir (“Sunset Boulevard,” “Gilda,” “Casablanca”), black-and-white features (“All About Eve,” “The Philadelphia Story,” “It Happened One Night”), some spooks (“Whatever Happened to Baby Jane,” “Rebecca,” “Rosemary’s Baby”) and, of course, Best Picture winners (“Amadeus,” “On the Waterfront,” “Kramer vs. Kramer”).

I saw Sally Field basically become typecast as a Southern woman. I watched Robert De Niro and Joe Pesci’s friendship grow from a bud to a beautiful flower. I also saw more gore and blood in the last six weeks than I ever needed to see in my life (thanks, Martin Scorsese). I laughed till I couldn’t breathe because of Charlie Chaplin, Jack Lemmon, Walter Matthau, Shirley MacLaine and Julie Andrews (to name a few). I also made a new group of friends (sorry, Currie) with The Brat Pack. And I watched, begrudgingly, the career of a problematic favorite, Woody Allen.

We used streaming platforms and Currie’s library of 1,500-ish DVDs to reach this milestone number and we have no plan to slow down, especially because we’re not supposed to leave our homes until the end of July.

There are times now when I think back to when I’d sit with my mom at the Royal Palm Dinner Theatre in Boca Raton to take in whatever shows my dad and Ben were in, like the time my dad was in “Mack and Mabel” and “Meet Me in St. Louis” or when Ben was in “High Button Shoes” and “George M!” I’d gaze up at the productions and be in a completely different place for a couple of hours.