Months before beginning this piece, I found a photograph of my father doing an impersonation (he is a few generations too old for “cosplay”) of Walter Pidgeon's iconic Dr. Morbius from the classic sci-fi film Forbidden Planet (dir. Fred M. Wilcox, 1956) (fig. 1). I framed the photograph and placed it on a pile of books, and as I drew closer to putting words to this essay, I moved the photograph to my desk. At this moment, the framed photo is angled toward me, and it evokes a multitude of feelings. For one thing, I was rather unceremoniously forced into participating in my father's eccentric iteration of “home movies.” These projects were in fact parodies in homage to his favorite things, B films and pulps of the 1950s and 1960s, that featured bumpy, string-maneuvered miniature flying saucers or clumsy, handmade, full-body Robby the Robot suits (figs. 2...

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