After reading
The Great Gatsby, my 9th grade English teacher had us watch the film
adaptation. To be clear, I’m
referring to the Mia Farrow and Robert Redford version, because… I wasn’t
born yesterday. The film
adaptation left me both disappointed and confused. See, I’d overheard my mom and her friend talking about how
much of a heartthrob Robert Redford was.
How handsome, how sexy… and I really didn’t get it at all-- even when I
saw the younger version of the man.
“Eww, Robert Redford?
He’s got all those pot-marks on his face and like skin cancer, doesn’t
he?” I said with the sly
smile only a teenager can pull off.
My mom replied “Honey, you’ll understand when you’re older.”
And I do.
Not
the Robert Redford part of it; I still don’t really get that, but good for him
for starting the
Sundance Institute.
I do, however, understand the movie star heartthrob part.
Recently,
The Los Angeles Times did an
article on male movie stars who are aging gracefully onscreen.
I took note primarily because “Oh,
shit!,” these are the heartthrobs of the generation a few steps ahead of
me. [I’d say
my generation, but I’ve always been attracted to older
guys so that’s not entirely true… not technically.]
The Times mentioned
Brad Pitt and Johnny Depp and George Clooney mostly. Brad Pitt and Leonardo DiCaprio were the youngest of the
older bunch in question. It was
odd in a way because a couple of months ago I was sitting on the back porch of
a house where we were filming and Johnny [Depp] sat down for a smoke across
from me. At the time, I remember
glancing up at him and thinking, “Crazy, he’s almost 50 and he’s still a
looker.”
There are few things about men I understood as a kid. Like women twice my age, I did understand there was something about Warren Beatty.
At thirteen, I went to see Dick Tracy and I came out of the theater with a little girl crush on a much older
man.
It wasn’t the first time
either. Two years earlier, I’d
fallen head over heels over Harrison Ford. I wanted to become an archeologist, travel the world, and
hang out with Harrison. Sadly, the
reality was that I was in fifth grade and the only real thing I’d accomplished
that year was getting my mom to let me wear a training bra. Nor was I good at math or science. None of this would impress Mr. Ford; I
was doomed. (Maybe Sean Connery
would still hang out with me.)
Upon watching Gone With The Wind for the first time as a
kid, I just knew Scarlett O’Hara was a moron for not going for Rhett Butler,
hook-line-and-sinker. Clark Gable
was ruggedly handsome. Leslie
Howard, not so much. Obviously. Come on, Scarlett-- get with the program, but I’ve seen the
film multiple times in my life and it ends the same way each and every time. Scarlett single once again. Because she’s a moron and a tad too
selfish and conniving.
Like any woman worth her weight in estrogen, I was attracted to Patrick Swayze and I've seen Dirty Dancing more than my share of times. I even recall watching it at slumber parties and girls rewinding the VHS tape so we could watch and re-watch a quick flash of Swayze's bare rear-end. It's just a glimpse. I won't tell you which scene. Most women probably already know.
More strangely, I had my Albert Finney phase. I thought he was cute and, more importantly, had a super sexy
voice. Albert Finney, folks. And yet I fail to understand my mom and
her Robert Redford.
It did make me
feel better when I learned that Audrey Hepburn and Albert Finney had a
little
flame all their own. See, I’m not
crazy. Audrey thought he was hot. Watch Two For The Road and you’ll understand. Even watch Annie
and you’ll sort of get it. Who
doesn’t want a Daddy Warbucks with a voice like Finney?
I also had, shall I say, a fondness for Laurence
Olivier. I read his autobiography
and flipped through old photos of him.
Very handsome gentleman, I thought. And he married Scarlett O’Hara [Vivien Leigh.] She didn’t
end up alone after all! I thought
they had the perfect romance until I learned of a rumor that he wasn’t really
much a gentleman after all.
For any woman there comes a time in your life when you’re
faced with the reality that, like you, little girl crushes grow old.
My brother got me Harrison Ford’s
autograph a few years ago and I’ll admit, as an adult, it didn’t elicit the
same excitement. Ten years ago, when
I first moved to Hollywood, Warren Beatty came into the coffee shop where I
worked.
The
13-year-old girl lurking somewhere inside my soul was alarmed to see a man who
looked like he had just rolled out of bed. He was somewhat aloof, but very polite. Glimmers of his handsomeness still
stood out amid the pillow creases and lines etched onto his face. I remember him being disappointed that
we didn’t have wheat rolls. But I was I
thinking of how damned good he looked in that yellow fedora so many years
ago. Then, I sheepishly apologized
and told him I’d ask my manager that day to order wheat rolls—at his
request.
We got wheat rolls. I never saw Warren again. Damn you, wheat rolls.
At twenty-four, I understood firsthand the charisma of Jack
Nicholson. I was standing and
talking with a group of male co-workers on the sound stage where we were
filming. Nicholson came waltzing
in wearing a white, terrycloth bathrobe [for the scene.] He looked at me, flashed a broad smile,
and said “Good morning.” My co-workers watched him pass by and muttered later
that Mr. Nicholson didn’t even look over at them at all. Um, you're not female, boys. And that’s Jack for you.
He may not be classically handsome, but charisma goes a long way. And the guy’s got charisma.
Not so long ago, I made a male co-worker recoil in horror
when I mentioned that Russell Brand was hot in a roguish, dirty sorta way. Then, my Albert Finney revelation made him
nearly fall out of his chair. As a
result, he became utterly confused by the way my brain works. Sometimes I can’t
even pinpoint what attracts me to certain men whether it’s a grown woman 'movie
star crush' or a man in my personal life. My former movie star crushes are surprisingly odd, even for
someone like me who is well, odd.
Or more pleasantly put… quirky in a Diane Keaton sort of way. Sometimes they make sense, like Robert Downey, Jr and Johnny Depp. Who's to argue those movie star crushes? In the end, it doesn't matter because your little girl movie star crushes are yours and yours alone-- even if you shared them with millions of other adolescent girls. To anyone who's ever had a little girl crush on a big movie star, may all your crushes age as well as George Clooney.
Copyright ©2013 by KLiedle
When I’m in that state, I certainly don’t feel like being around people yet I don’t necessarily feel like being alone either. That’s where movies come in. To get myself out of a depressed funk, I’d like to say that I watch comedies or feel-good chick flicks. But I’m not a comedy, chick-flick sort of girl in these instances. Misery loves company, they say. And when I’m depressed, I watch depressing movies. I hate to say it, but they make me feel better about my sad, little life. Much better than a forced laugh. Trying to fake myself into a better mood by watching a comedy never seems to work.
