Sometimes I spend a lot of time contemplating which albums and films I want to submit for these weekly "sermons." I haven't even finished writing the rants for this week yet and I'm already plotting next week. Even when the idea comes to me quickly (I actually knew last week what album I wanted to share with you all this week), it's usually a very time-consuming process to figure out what I want to say about it and how exactly to do so. This is one of those rare occasions where my film choice was actually influenced by my album selection. And it's not that the two are related in any way, shape, or form. But my memories of the two are interconnected.
In my album "sermon," I mentioned a woman that I'm calling Marie. She was the assistant manager at Barnes & Noble in the Cleveland suburb of Richmond Heights where I had recently been hired as the manager of the music department. We bonded over a mutual love of... many things, actually, and became good friends. Since I lived somewhat near the store and didn't have a car at the time, she even offered to pick me up for our Monday morning managers meetings so I wouldn't have to walk--particularly during what can be brutal Cleveland winters. As I stated, I developed something of a crush on her which, believe it or not, is a fairly unusual occurrence for me. I'm one of those odd people for whom finding someone attractive and being attracted to someone are two completely different situations. I can honestly say that if I really sat down and thought about it, I can count the number of women I've been attracted to in my life on one hand. (For the purposes of this rant, I won't even discuss the idea of "falling in love," which is an entirely different can of worms.)
I know you're all (however few of you are actually reading this) now wondering, what ever happened with Marie? Honestly, nothing. I never told her that I had a crush on her. I have a hunch that she was smart enough to figure it out on her own, but I probably should have said something. No matter how foolish that sounds in hindsight, I did have my reasons in the moment--most notably the fact that she was technically my supervisor and the company kind of frowned on romantic relationships in those situations. I've often reassured myself that if either one of us worked elsewhere and/or I hadn't made plans to eventually move back to Indiana, I would have asked her out. At least that's what I like to tell myself so that I feel less like a loser, but who knows if that's actually true? In spite of how sad that might sound, I don't regret anything. I have a lot of fond memories that make me smile when I think of her, and even though U2's music has been making me think of her even more over the last few weeks than I normally do, I don't think I would have done anything differently, for better or worse.
One of the things we bonded over was John Cusack movies. A week or two before I moved back to southern Indiana, I did ask her if she wanted to go see his latest film with me, which she seemed happy to do. I've often said it was the closest thing I had to a date in the entire year I lived in the 440 area code. I know I had a good time and I hope she did as well. I particularly enjoyed the fact that she laughed--out loud--at some of the dirtier jokes in the movie, which, like her love of U2, I found rather endearing. She did have a great laugh (I assume she still does). Looking back on it now, it's not a great movie. It's not bad--I might even call it pretty good. But, like so many pieces of music, the unrelated sentimental feelings that it evokes make up for any deficiencies in the film itself. And every time I find myself watching this film, I think of that Friday summer afternoon with Marie and smile.
In the movie, Eddie Harris (Cusack) is an actor who's had a nervous breakdown after his breakup with frequent co-star Gwen Harrison (Catherine Zeta-Jones) who has since taken up with another actor named Hector (Hank Azaria speaking with a humourously bad Thpanish acthent). Before they broke up, they did complete one final movie. The studio is desperate for a hit and studio publicist extraordinaire Lee Phillips (Billy Crystal), with a tremendous amount of help from Gwen's sister Kiki (Julia Roberts), has to convince both of them to show up for the press junket. Ultimately you come away from it liking the characters you're supposed to like and not liking the characters you're not supposed to like. I tend to look at it as an indictment of Hollywood phoniness. Gwen is incredibly vapid and self-centered (as is Hector come to think of it). Kiki tries hard not to be, but has taken on the role of her sister's personal assistant, so she frequently finds herself having to fake a lot of things. The person I liked the most, however, was the character of Lee. As a publicist, he knows his job is completely phony. He's a salesman. His job is to sell people on this upcoming movie. It's because of that knowledge, that he can play that phoniness with a certain level of depth, which makes him much more likeable. As an actor, I would imagine that would be a difficult part to play, but Crystal did it beautifully.
Co-written by Crystal with Peter Tolan and directed by Joe Roth, the film co-stars Stanley Tucci, Alan Arkin, Seth Green, and Christopher Walken as the eccentric director of Eddie's and Gwen's as yet unreleased movie (this was the film where I learned that Walken can tap dance. #WhoKnew?) If you look carefully, you can even see Rainn Wilson in an early pre-"Office" role as well as small appearances by frequent Cusack collaborator Steve Pink as well as Cusack's sister Ann in an uncredited role (I assume Joan wasn't available for this one). From 2001, please enjoy America's Sweethearts.
Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you.
Yours in peace, love, and rock and roll!
The Reverend Will the Thrill
No comments:
Post a Comment