Friday night the action didn’t stop. Aleks and the Ramps delivered one of the shows of the year and I held a shaker for part of it. The afterparty was a bit weird how everyone turned into reptiles and shellfish except Carla (oh my darling hot hot Steve) who was this haloed beacon of light.
I have been wanting to talk about Buster Keaton and Jerry Lewis all week after seeing a smashing double feature on Wednesday, but an inability to write a worthwhile word or two about either of these comedic geniuses had prevented me. Sometimes words don’t cut it. Keaton is a profoundly moving and inventive slapsticker/surrealist. I wonder how long it would last if we shared a flat together. My temperament would probably suit him, though I doubt he'd appreciate my fascination with his deadpan and the subsequent fixation for hours on end. I would fetch his waistcoat and maybe we could go see a Fatty Arbuckle movie together. You know he broke his neck taking a fall in Sherlock Jr? He is a very alluring apparition in this film. See it before you die. It’s absolutely wonderful. He’s a spectacular dreamer and an amazing deliverer of hair-raising stunts.
Second on the bill was Jerry Lewis' The Bellboy. Nowhere near as transcendent as Sherlock Jr. nevertheless it is, to borrow a phrase from my eloquent movie cohort, Jesse Jackson Shepherd ‘a brilliantly executed series of gags’. Jerry Lewis is a total stud.
In other news, chickpeas have secured a place in our weekday meal rotation. A type of salad De Campo makes with zucchini and couscous. I'm not just saying that because she's been unwell either, poor tootsie covered in hives, most recent break-out occuring Saturday night while watching Taxi Driver. She was like what’s happening to me and I was like listen honey a lot of people break out in hives while watching Taxi Driver. It's not that uncommon.
I then considered writing a thesis on Taxi Driver and Punch-Drunk Love: A Study of Great American Loners. It would be fairly excellent.