One of the reasons that I have posted so little in the last several days is that I have been consumed by anger and a feeling of depression at what is happening in America these days, even though I am only a fortnight away from my second vaccine shot, which you would think would cheer me up. So I thought I would spend today giving you one example of the wit in movies and then invite any who wish to post comments to give us other examples that they like.
My example comes from an old Clint Eastwood movie. All of us are familiar with the movie cliché of the couple who, consumed by desire for one another, stumble into an apartment and start tearing their clothes off, dropping them on the floor as they make their way to the bed. In the non—R-rated versions, we never see them naked on the bed making love. We simply see the trail of clothing leading up to the bed: a shoe, a bra, a sock, an undershirt. I have no idea what imaginative director created this trope but it is now so stale that one yawns when it begins and it no longer has the power to arouse.
In the Clint Eastwood movie, he plays a Secret Service agent tasked with defending the president (I think, I may misremember that). His partner is a female Secret Service agent and sure enough, they get the hots for each other and go to his or her apartment. The scene starts conventionally enough but the director, with what I consider a marvelous wit, shows us a somewhat different trail of dropped accoutrements: a side arm, a pair of handcuffs, a bra, a bit of body armor. When I saw it I laughed out loud. It was such a lovely bit of inter-textual critique, as the lit crit people say. I do not remember much else about the movie but I will never forget that scene.
Okay. That one is mine. I invite you to contribute yours for the general amusement of the readership and to lighten the burden under which we all labor these days.