Last week in the care home dad asked me to bring him a movie to watch. I am totally aware that because of his dementia he can’t really follow a complicated plot and it’s hard to find a movie that suits.
I finally settled on 12 Years a Slave, figuring he can dip in and out and is familiar with the history and horror of slavery.
So dad and I settle down to watch the opening scenes of the slave master shouting at the slaves and showing them how to work the field.
At that moment in comes the lovely wee curvy funny chatty black nurse with a distinctive African accent
“Hello, what you watching? Something good?” she says and stares at TV as she sits beside dad.
Dad looks at me stricken as if he can’t say “a film about black people and slavery to the black nurse”
so I rescue him and say “12 years a Slave” just as the slaves are
being beaten to fuck on screen.