Let’s agree I couldn’t really pay attention to them till I was three.
That being the case, between going to the theater, television, VHS and Beta rentals,
DVD purchases and rentals, Netflix, Hulu Plus and network websites …
how many movies do you figure I’ve seen since September 2, 1954,
my third birthday?
In all that time, I have seen four performances which immediately come to mind
as being perfect.
The first: Gregory Peck in “To Kill a Mockingbird“.
The second: Robert Duvall in “The Apostle“.
The third: Bruce Dern in “Nebraska“.
And, after having watched it for the third time in this past week since I bought the DVD and downloaded the digital version to my laptop …
Jennifer Lawrence in “Silver Linings Playbook”.
Every word spoken, every look in their eyes, every nuance of every motion, the way they stood or walked or sat or sneezed or smiled or smirked, their timing and rhythm, even the way they would take each and every breath transformed them into someone you came to know. Someone who reached out to you and into you and left an indelible mark on how you would forever look at that character and who they represented.
I did some ensemble theater in college, some amateur Summer Stock community theater, did a short film in college, so I’m no Pacino or DeNiro. I read some Stanislavski, but I sure ain’t no Lee Strasburg.
I’m just some guy whose met a whole bunch of people over the years and forget most of them.
I will never forget Atticus Finch or The Apostle E. F. or Woody Grant or Tiffany Maxwell any more than I could ever forget Marty and Brad and Greg and Jimmy and Bryan and Marcie and Mama Wags – people dating back over forty and even over fifty years in my life. Even if we’ve lost contact.
And I’ve forgotten most of the people I worked with for fifteen out of the past eighteen years.
This isn’t a movie blog. I don’t even have a “Movies” page to put this on as much as I love movies. Even some of the cheesiest of them. I mean, come on … there’s a certain tackiness to “Showgirls” that transcends the T&A and the classic “nipples” moment that makes it a guilty pleasure worthy of cinematic immortality.
Check out the tags I have on this post.
I have made the only statements I have to share on this post.
The rest I am opening up to all the folks it’s addressed to.
Some of you know who you are already, some of you haven’t even gotten here yet. Maybe those tags got you here somehow. Or maybe a referral or a mutual blogger we follow or fate or blind fucking luck.
So you know who you are, and you know what I’m thinking and I have one question for you:
is there something recognizable and either comfortably or uncomfortably familiar about Tiffany Maxwell?