I don’t know if it’s the cold, that Christmas approaches, or that my schedule has shifted again now that Molly’s into exam-mode, but I’ve been in a sentimental mood of late. I first noted it when I was walking Maya and the playlist brought up an unexpected song: Barry Manilow’s New York City Rhythm.
Most days that would have wrenched an epithet from these lips. I would have flung my gloves into the snow, fumbled for my iPhone and blasted some hip-hop as an antidote. The ToolMaster hates Barry Manilow’s music with a blind and abiding loathing; I guess I’ve absorbed some of his attitude.
He also hates hip-hop, but then, that’s another post.
Instead I listened and I tapped my toe and I may have altered my usual zesty walk to incorporate a bit of sway. By the time I’d reached home, the mood had gelled. Translation? I’m craving things with patina, solidity and staying power.
Hence the photo to the left. Hence the fact that I’ve made more traditional O’Hara foods in the last month than in the preceding year. Hence the old movie marathon I began, including most of Steve Martin’s celluloid.
That would include Roxanne. I love that movie. It’s sweet, tender, silly. But that opinion put me on Alice Loweecey‘s perma-ignore list. She considers the play on which it’s based a seminal work of art, and the Steve Martin adaptation an abomination in the eyes of the Lord.
Peeps, although there can be no doubt of her mistaken opinion, I did not engage her in a smackdown. Two reasons:
1. I’m interviewing her here in January, and have a teensy hunch it might be bad to have a guest hating on me before she answers her questions. (After is par for the course. That Timothy Power’s so not the way he presents in his interview.)
2. It’s just sensible to think twice before crossing an ex-nun. (Cross… Ex-nun…. Get it?) I grudgingly allow she’s more of an authority on abominations than I. 😉
Anyway, I rented another golden oldie from the library and enjoyed it, though not enough to fork out the money.
Remember Danny Kaye in The Court Jester? No? The good stuff starts about minute 1:10.
The only bad part about this entire week, besides Alice’s extreme mistakenness and social faux pas in contradicting her future host — never to be referred to again — is my realization I was born a generation too late.
I could have written those lines. I really think so. Doesn’t that seem like my kind of silliness?
But imagine me trying to cram them into a contemporary romance.
Or put this dialogue in a tender farewell scene between a vampire and his lady love, right before she goes off to kick ass and save the world.
See what I mean?
Anyway, do you feel a yearning for the days of yore? And if you do, what music or movies would you choose to revisit?