The furnace girl came in yesterday, as she said she would.
I know. I was floored too. And the kid with the fever was doped up on Children’s Motrin so he managed to keep his temperature below 100 until 3:30 when the daycare called his mom and told her to come and get her sick child. But that didn’t matter to me because I was out of there by 1:00 pm for my make-up half day! I actually ran from the building, certain that a long rubber arm was going to snake through the corridors and pull me back to my desk. I watch too many Tim Burton movies, I think.
Thus, I went home and began the slow and arduous process of trying to create a semblance of order in Club Chaos… aka Chez Weetabix. There is still luggage in our living room from the Atlanta trip. I began taking care of things, putting away dishes which had long ago air dried, taking out garbage, fixing our computer network which had lost internet connectivity, doing laundry, etc. End result: things are done but you can’t tell. I think I need a bulldozer.
I also watched Urban Cowboy on American Movie Classics. First off, does it disturb anyone else that Urban Cowboy is considered a classic? I think AMC is trying to appeal to a younger audience. I mean, I enjoy the heck out of that movie and will pretty much watch it any time it comes on, but a classic?
The first time I saw that movie, it was making its first appearance on HBO. I was 9 or 10 and we inexplicably had full cable (which, back then, only cost something like $15). They played Urban Cowboy nearly every day. And I was transfixed. Not just because Debra Winger reminded me of my Aunt Sharon and cowboy paraphernalia was all the rage, but also just the sheer trashiness of it all. It doesn’t shield you from the grit and sordid truth of that sort of life. It is unapologetic and therefore almost has a documentary feel. The way that Sissy goes braless and only wears tanks or halter tops throughout the entire movie. The way that Bud walks around as though there were an invisible string tied around his penis, pulling him forward. The way they live in a trailer and Sissy doesn’t wear pantyhose at her wedding and is wearing white cowboy boots with her bare feet. It’s like a primer on becoming white trash.
And honestly, Travolta and Winger are excellent. Winger can whine like nobody’s business and when you add a Texas twang, it’s breathtaking. Travolta truly does have a talent for playing big stupid boys, even though his range of emotions is portrayed by nostril flairs. Seriously. Depiction of being turned on: flared nostrils. Depiction of anger: flared nostrils. Depiction of drunkenness: flared nostrils. Depiction of fear at hanging by an ankle off an oil rig: upside down flared nostrils. But I forgive him for this because he’s very pretty and also who knew the man could ride a dang mechanical bull? And the writing is brilliant. Truly brilliant. It also has the character Wes, played by Clarice’s boss from Silence of the Lambs, Scott Glenn, and he almost exudes sex in a palpable manner. And he also eats the worm from the bottle of Tequila on camera. You’ve just got to love that.
My favorite line in the movie: “You all live like pigs!” (pronounced peegs) Bud’s aunt says, looking at the disgusting sink in Bud and Sissy’s trailer, complete with a rotting can of Hormel Chili. If she had then spelled it out (“P-I-G Pigs!”), ala Babs in Animal House, it would have been absolute perfection. And the remarkable thing is that Bud and Sissy have been married a week! One week and already the sink in their brand new trailer is disgusting and Sissy is already flirting with the guy she’ll later sleep with (not before Bud has diddled a socialite looking for a “real cowboy”, though). I also love the picture taking session at their wedding, where each picture looks horrible, but subtly and therefore realistically. Given the fact that the movie is over 20 years old, they look even more like quintessential bad 70’s wedding pictures. Winger looks positively fetal and Travolta had years of $cientology and Battlefield Earth to look forward to. It’s just so beautiful and real I can hardly stand it.
Word of warning, however, do NOT watch the cut version. The movie is roughly 50% cursing, hand gestures, and various rude comments that do not make it past censors. All that’s left is two-step scenes, Winger looking up through her feathered bangs, mechanical bull riding, wife beating, and Travolta flaring his nostrils. You’ll completely lose the trashy flavor of the movie. Also, it’s lovely to see a disturbingly young Bonnie Raitt as one of the entertainers at the bar. Not to mention Barry Corbin from Northern Exposure playing, essentially, a more humble working class Maurice.
It’s certainly no Citizen Kane but I love it for the same reason that I love the other movies which were in heavy rotation on HBO that summer. Xanadu comes to mind. You’ve just got to love Xanadu. Olivia Newton-John with perfectly feathered hair and on roller-skates. And there was also How to Beat The High Cost Of Living with Jane Curtin, Susan Saint James and Jessica Lange. And Jane showed her boobs in that one. Probably the reason you never see huge plastic balls of money in malls anymore… since one could suck the cash out of the bottom with a Wet-Dry Vac. And The Blues Brothers. I’ve still never gotten over my love of John Belushi. 9 to 5 also comes to mind. Mo and I used to repeat “One move and I’ll turn you from a rooster to a hen in one shot” to each other all the time, even though it really made no sense to another girl. I always identified with the Lily Tomlin character. Perhaps I knew, even then, that I’d feel stifled in my career.
And then there was Caddyshack. I didn’t get most of the nuances of that thing, but I still found it humorous. I practiced all summer to be able to get off my bike the way that Danny dismounts his ten-speed in the title sequence. And I’ve already talked about my Coal Miner’s Daughter thing. Tommy Lee Jones was growllll in that, despite his atrociously bad hair cut and dye job. And it also taught me the meaning of the word “horny”.
It was educational, really. Sort of an uncensored tutelage in the real world. In general, I learned that men like it when women take off their tops and when you have sex with a main character, the sheet is tucked very neatly under the armpits of the woman, concealing her breasts. Because sex is over then, so she doesn’t need to show them. And you only ever saw the man’s bare butt. Maybe. Unless it was American Gigolo, in which I seem to remember actually seeing Richard Gere’s penis going into Joan Collins somewhere. And that traumatized me for a good long time.
There were more specifics, of course. Modern Problems warned of the dangers of toxic waste. Seems Like Old Times(Chevy Chase and Goldie Hawn had a big year) showed that you should not talk to your ex-husband because it makes your current husband, Charles Grodin, unhappy. The Incredible Shrinking Woman reminded that shrinking is bad for your marriage, especially when married to Charles Grodin. The Blue Lagoon warned that cannibals are bad and sex with your adopted brother on an island will give you a baby. The Shining made me fear little girls and hallways which were flooded with blood and also Scatman Caruthers, simply by association. Bronco Billy taught me that the circus life is not fun and also Scatman Caruthers is scary even away from that mickey fickey hotel. Fame taught me that you don’t hold a violin bow as you would your dick and also not to answer adds in the classifieds asking if you want to be an actress. Private Benjamin taught me not to trust Eileen Brennan. Somewhere In Time showed me how to travel back in time if you thought about it hard enough and if you were also Superman. And it also introduced the time travel paradox into my feeble little brain (“But if she gave him the watch in the beginning and then he left it with her in the past, where did the watch actually COME FROM???”)
You know, this probably all really explains a lot.
