Friday, June 13, 2008

Thoughts on 1) Fat Arms and 2) Seeing The Women for the 900th Time

It's odd, but fat, jiggly upper arms with that Sway underneath--about which women are often self-conscious--have great names. Did you ever notice? I just heard that in Australia they call them bingo wings. Heh. Also too fabulous: hi-Helen!s (Hanne told me that one) and my friend Fred calls them nervous puddin's, which I think is hilarious. yer puddins.

Re: The Women

1. Everything hostile and defensive that can be said about even the idea of the new version still holds. Hollywood is on probation.

2. I feel very protective of the hokey bits of this film that make people bark with oh-the-olden-days! laughter. Such as the last shot. Or when Peggy tells Mary she's pregnant*. These moments of sincerity haven't aged nearly as well as the snarkiness, so they need extra care.

3. There are a lot of people to love in this film, to idolize, to dress up as for Hallowe'en, but it's really still always about the Comtesse De Lave for me (by just a bit, but it's hers). She's farther out, less fleshed out, more tangential, but--maybe it's getting older--I love her valiant persistence and style. That would not have been true earlier in my life.

4. It would be hilarious to do a remake where you kept just the two lines that age really badly (the one about Joan Crawford's maid, and the one Mary's mother says about spreading out in bed). Heh. Or maybe some of the stuff little Mary says.

5. I don't like the hats. I appreciate them...but don't like them. Don't think they're flattering.

6. High, high, high on my list of things I'd buy if I could are an original Hurrell portrait of Norma Shearer. Would love it...I adore them.

* I am writing a song based on this bit. Kind of a girl group/Waitresses/Kay Starr thing.

1 comment:

skippy said...

I made peace with my fat upper arms. Then, I got older, and now they function like carbon dating systems. No matter how young my face looks, my upper arms are my sure giveaway.

Having said that? I am seriously thinking about campaigning to make peace with them. I get tired of not buying this or that shirt, or always leaving the damned house with a cardigan.