Last week, for reasons too banal to explain, the cinetrix was unable to have a screening for her film class. Left facing a midweek discussion without a film to anchor it, I decided to expose the kiddies to a little star theory. Those of you already familiar with Richard Dyer's groundbreaking work on the subject probably also don't need to be told that it's less than a gripping read for students who have little to no firsthand knowledge of the classic Hollywood stars Dyer makes his subjects.
So I added a little more recent reading: Murray Pomerance on Johnny Depp and Sarah Vowell, from those halcyon days of 2000, on the ineluctable aloneness of Tom Cruise. But basically the discussion devolved into a focus on not just movie stars but the familiar faces gracing celebrity tabloids at the local supermarket. Are stars "just like us" and should they be? Why does it matter?
I'll be honest: I had a blast. Imagine standing in front of a classroom and writing Johnny Depp and Tom Cruise on the board, then throwing scare quotes around each of their names. After all, I asked, what do we know about "Johnny Depp" or Johnny Depp? Everything was fair game, so Tim Burton's name soon nestled next to "Wino Forever tattoo," "lives in France," and so on. Is Depp a character actor? Why do we know the names of Tom Cruise's children?
It used to be that after one's tween years, when august publications like Bop or 16 delivered breathless precis about how you and whatever unthreating tv heartthrob du jour were clearly meant for each other because you both love pepperoni pizza, this sort of trivia mostly melted away. OK, there'd be the occasional high-profile, headline-grabbing affair, and the gents might feel a certain thrill because Miss September likes Adam Sandler movies, too, but that was pretty much it.
Now, though, for a certain tier of celebrities, that information is available everywhere. For example, we are all so sad about Reese and Ryan. They seemed different; what about those poor kids, etc. That said, it's tough to totally quash that little buzz of connection when you find out, say, Jonathan Lethem is screening Scarecrow at the IFC Center [which he did last Thursday]. Even though I'm not enough of a fan, personally, to have gone given the chance, I'm fascinated because the entire event is predicated on the idea that if you like his books, and he likes this movie, then maybe you'll like this movie. Or you love the movie and have been meaning to pick up his books for years. He'll be there. You'll be there. We're talking BFF by the end of the evening! Eeee!
Where am I going with this? Good question. Shared favorite movies can be almost a secret language. I guess I was just wondering whether you'd ever had the experience of learning that a "star" you admired--in whatever medium--loved a movie that you loved. Or, better still, that you hated. Is the bloom off the rose forever more, in the latter case, and did you feel that little frisson of "we would totally be best friends" in the former?
