Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Someone Without A Name
One of my favorite movies is Saturday Night Fever because of John Travolta. He's one of the rare men that emotes pure beauty and tragedy at a young age and his portrayal of the tortured Tony M. is one that breaks the heart. I've heard lots of people complain about this movie -- the thin plot, the sometimes corny dialogue, the rape scene. I almost never think about anything but the dance sequences in this movie, the times that Tony is a king in his limited world, a moment of beauty in rather diminished circumstances.
I still love John Travolta (even have forgiven Stayin' Alive ), but he's never surpassed that early brilliance. Sometimes an actor's fame can intefere with his or her ability to get lost in a part. You keep thinking, that's so and so doing such and such. You wish you could start over, forget all that had happened. Just like with everything else.
Michelle's Spell of the Day
Without A Name
30 ml brandy
30 ml rum
whie sugar to taste
Benedictions and Maledictions
None of us learned sign language even
though my grandmother was nearly
deaf after being boxed in the ears by my
grandfather after coming home late from
babysitting me. I could hear yelling through
the trailer window, and nobody knew what
to do so we drove away and left her there
with the only man she had ever loved. Even
then, I understood you couldn’t save someone
unless you were willing to crucify yourself.
Our car rolled over the gravel and onto a paved
road that led us to our house. It wasn’t much,
that house, with its long black bars covering
the windows, part decoration, part prison, but
it was a house, you see, and it didn’t move every
time the weather changed like the trailer did.