On Father’s Day, I find myself remembering a moment in 1967 when I sat in the movie theatre next to my dad. We had a stormy relationship over the years, but I fondly recall watching “Bonnie and Clyde” together on screen, the only movie we ever experienced as father and son.

The 1967 movie “Bonnie and Clyde” instilled in 11-year-old me a profound life message, expressed through cinema by the actors’ performances. It was Faye Dunaway as Bonnie (more so than Warren Beatty as Clyde) who truly exemplified that people only have one life to live. The characters and the real Bonnie and Clyde they portrayed robbed banks, but the essence of their shared story is to step out of the norm to experience as much as life has to offer. Metaphorically feeling “We Rob Banks,” I internalized every spark of energy emanating from that screen. It would not be an understatement to say this movie and Faye’s portrayal of Bonnie Parker impacted most of my later life choices. I didn’t “Rob Banks,” but I took chances, step out of bounds and followed unique paths that enriched my world.

My dad was a social worker and my mother a nurse. Two professions that require a great deal of caring and concern. But at times it meant there was often less care or concern remaining for their family. Like the characters in the movie, both my parents saw themselves as underdogs, fighting a good fight. They identified strongly with the myth/story of Bonnie and Clyde, seeing through their outlaw behaviour to the deeper human struggle beyond law-and-order with feelings of sympathy and defiance. I suspect that’s the reason I was taken to the theatre.

I quickly became infatuated with Bonnie and Clyde. Read books, watched documentaries and scanned old newspapers to satisfy my curiosity. But it was always that lingering feeling of taking chances that nourished my passion.

This year, a long-held dream came true when I had the honour to meet Faye Dunaway on a film set. Her character in this movie didn’t rob banks, but she is the key to a timeless love story, connecting the present with the 1950s. Like her character, Faye also connected me with my father.

Anxiously, I awaited Faye’s arrival, hoping to introduce myself. But she went straight to wardrobe, hair and makeup. I greeted her son Liam who was travelling with her to make sure Faye was happy. When it was time for Faye on set, she was quickly chaperoned past me so I hovered around the background watching her perform the first couple of scenes. Naturally Faye was magnificent, prepared, beautiful and glowing. As the camera prepped for the reverse angle, a voice loudly called out: “Man with white hair, you’re in my eye line.” It was Faye and this was our introduction. Not how I imagined it would be. But I was in her eye line so I sheepishly moved. (After that, some of the crew started to refer to me as the man with white hair.) Following our abrupt introduction, I am happy to say Faye and I had moments to talk. She is a true legend and a charm to be with.

It surprised me that talking with Faye sent my mind and heart hurtling back in time to a theatre on Fraser St. I realized then how grateful I was for the day father and son spent two hours enjoying the story of a couple who lived and died by their own rules, mutually enthralled by characters brought to life by Faye Dunaway and Warren Beatty.

As a father myself, I’ve tried to build many moments like this with my children. I wonder which they will remember?