Before Sunrise (2/5/95)
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At some point (the protagonist begins) I come across the opening sentence of the fifth chapter of Chaplin’s autobiography: “Joseph Conrad wrote a friend to this effect: that life made him feel like a cornered blind rat waiting to be clubbed.” Concurring with the sentiment, Chaplin nonetheless acknowledges his own luck, which at this dismal moment (it’s only the fifth chapter, times are still hard) lands him a part in
Jim, The Romance of a Cockney, “the story of an aristocrat suffering from amnesia, who finds himself living in a garret with a young flower girl and a newspaper boy ... .” — Aha, I say to myself. I always knew Perelman wasn’t making this stuff up.
Meanwhile Baywatch bimbo Pamela Anderson reveals herself attracted to Carl Gustav Jung, though she feels she has the most in common with Friedrich (Bubba) Nietzsche. — I never thought Perelman made this stuff up either, I suppose. Though the two thousand words he would have extracted from it for the moment escape me.
I convey this intelligence regarding Ms. Anderson to Dave Schmaltz while we’re standing in front of the Camera just before the major meeting with the management goons. “Hmmm,” says Dave. “Jung? Nietzsche? Those guys are dead.” — “Yeah, Dave,” I say, “but we’re still alive. I think.” — “Hmmmm,” says Dave. — Somehow this isn’t reassuring.
The meeting goes like shit (the protagonist continues.) I find myself rather at a loss to guess what Perelman might have said about this too.
Instead (the protagonist concludes) I lurch off to the theater to watch
Pulp Fiction for the third time. For the third time Pumpkin and Honeybunny stick up the coffee shop; for the third time Mister Big mumbles “I’m gon’ get
medieval on yo’ ass”; for the third time Uma and Travolta do the twist.
It washes some of the bad taste out of my mouth. But not all.
____________The war of the words (12/7/94)
