Caramel Laryngitis

Last night Dr. Theresa and I were watching a movie called SKYJACKED, about some poor saps getting skyjacked, and from his radio tower, the mousy character actor John Fiedler said to pilot Charlton Heston, "You are five by five," which those of you who recall with fondness a certain "blog" "post" from October 28, 2019, will know why I am telling you, and if you do, will you please tell me? I had a lot of good reasons for not typing this. I was like, well, no one will know who John Fiedler is. He has a certain kind of voice I associate with Sterling Holloway and Percy Helton, and nobody knows who they are, either. It's a voice... well, laryngitic, high-pitched, and to use Megan Abbott's adjective, caramely. (It's her birthday today! Happy birthday, Megan!) I was surprised that John Fiedler's voice wasn't as caramely or laryngitic as I recalled in his SKYJACKED performance, though it did remain high-pitched. "I should put a photo of John Fiedler on the 'post'!" Or so I mused silently to myself in the privacy of my own home. He was a meek patient of TV psychiartrist Bob Newhart and he was cast against type as - John Fiedler spoiler alert! - Jack the Ripper on STAR TREK. But even if I add such details, no one will know who he is, and even if I "post" an image, no one will know who he is, they will be like, "Who's that?" and I really should "post" a photo of Percy Helton instead, though I won't, because certainly more people have forgotten Percy Helton. Furthermore (I continued to think), I believe I learned somewhere around 2009 that the "blog" is only allowed to upload a certain number of images, and when you go over the limit, the "blog" people just unplug your sorry ass and your "blog" disappears. Pardon my blue language! But it's all so distressing. That's no excuse. Anyway, I've been doing this for (dear God!) for just about 18 years now, and will a pointless image of John Fiedler (bespectacled, to the left of the aforementioned Newhart) be the thing that brings us all sweet relief?

Saps

Laura Lippman has written down some good, insightful thoughts for you to read about James M. Cain's MILDRED PIERCE (different than the earlier Slate magazine essay of hers on the same subject, which you can find after a few "clicks" here). Here's a sample sentence: "The not-so-secret dirty little secret of hard-boiled fiction is that it’s awash in sentiment; those tough guys, for all their intelligence, can be the biggest suckers of all." See, that is close to something I have been pointing out to my hardboiled fiction class... so often your hardboiled protagonist (especially in a traditional detective novel) NEEDS to be a sap for the story to work. How often does the detective with an ill-advised soft spot end up working for a client who has no money? How often does the client who starts the book betray the detective's tender trust? I will tell you: EVERY TIME! I mean, how often does our hero fall hopelessly in love with a photograph (Sughrue in THE LAST GOOD KISS) or painting (McPherson in LAURA) of an alluring young woman who is presumably deceased? Forget sentimentality! Half the time we're practically wallowing in gothic romance. Hardboiled fiction is as full of ghosts and castles and raging thunderstorms that reflect the wildness in the characters' hearts (see MILDRED PIERCE!) and vampires as anything. Isn't Veda a vampire? Doesn't she blossom as her once-vibrant host is reduced to a shapeless, worn-down shadow, "a panting, dumpy little thing in a black dress"? Lippman's point is about the comparative lack of sentimentality in Cain (as opposed to Chandler, for example), a true observation, but even tough, practical Mildred is a sap where Veda is concerned. (Bled dry! Fed upon! "Sapped"! Vampire!) And I guess Captain Ahab is a sap for Moby-Dick. Can't you see what literature is trying to tell us? We're all a bunch of saps!

Verdell's Stang Reminder

Verdell would like all of us to remember on this happy occasion that "Stang" is the great new slang term for money because we say so. I hate to break it to the rest of you saps, but Verdell is the only one keeping it real anymore. (Hey, look! The randomly assigned illustration turned out to be my birthday party which is totally weird because today is Arnold Stang's birthday and the guy who told me it's Arnold Stang's birthday was at my birthday party! I'm freaking out.)

The Monkey I Missed

But somehow I missed a mention of monkeys in a New York Times "blog" yesterday. The "blogger" was writing about how animals get drunk in the wild "via the fermenting fruit, sap and nectar of various plants." And he quoted Darwin on the subject of monkey hangovers: "On the following morning they were very cross and dismal; they held their aching heads with both hands, and wore a most pitiable expression: when beer or wine was offered them, they turned away with disgust, but relished the juice of lemons."

Another Reading

Hello, everyone! Do you have friends and relatives in Chattanooga? Neither do I! That's why I'm so scared about my reading tomorrow night at Rock Point Books. Deep in my heart I'm afraid nobody cares. I'll look like a big sap and the staff will sadly shake their heads and try to make me feel better. Come out and prove me wrong! They seem like nice people and their store looks intriguing on the "internet." Okay! Let's have a reading!

From Dr. "M."

There is no reason for me to take out my confusion about "blogging" on Dr. "M." and our other innocent correspondents. Here, then, I present a message from Dr. "M.": "I just wanted to echo my blog colleague Theresa's assessment of Dirty Dancing," Dr. "M." writes, "and I also would like to thank her for putting up with my catcalling, whooping, and cheering at last night's screening on the film. Despite our near-death experiences on the way to the theater, including almost getting sideswiped by two--count them, two!--semis and my almost driving straight into a roadblock that clearly said STOP to everyone but me AND despite my fear of the Atlantic Station underground parking lot (it's so big and scary!!) AND despite the fact that my windshield is covered in some sap that made driving very difficult, it turned out to be a magical evening in which we enjoyed made-on-the-spot guacamole at our pre-screening meal and the hot, steamy, and downright 'dirty' dancing that lends itself to the film's title. The theater was packed with women of all ages, many of whom seemed to giggle uncontrollably throughout the showing. Was I one of those ladies? I'll never tell! Perhaps the crowning moment of the evening was when Johnny (Swayze) states the classic line, 'Nobody puts Baby in the corner,' and the entire theater erupted into cheers. You tell 'em, Johnny! On another note, I am sad I had to miss what sounds like a stellar episode of the Gilmores. Of course I was having 'the time of my life' at DD, and I did get to see Emily Gilmore on screen in the role of Baby's mother, Marge Houseman." Thanks, Dr. "M."! You remind us of what "blogging" is all about, or what we THOUGHT "blogging" was all about but now our head hurts.

Sweet Sap, Shady Sleaze

MILDRED PIERCE is on. Theresa's watching it for her class. She's going to show those lucky kids choice scenes from MILDRED PIERCE, DISCLOSURE, and 9 TO 5. But anyway, watching MILDRED PIERCE gets us to thinking about Jack Carson, one of our favorite actors in the Pendarvis Building. Mr. McNeil and I have discussed his virtues several times, generally agreeing that any movie with Mr. Carson in it is worth watching. He was typecast, but not as the usual single character over and over. He would play either a sweet, vulnerable, dimwitted sap OR a shady, carnivorous sleazeball con man. He could do either one! And I believe those are virtually the only two roles he ever played, direct opposites. In MILDRED PIERCE, he's on the creepy side. But he was ideally suited for the former kind of part as well. What a strange kind of versatility. Go out and rent a Jack Carson movie today. And tell 'em the"blog" sent you!