Saturday, March 10, 2012
Am I George Valentin?
Last night, I finally saw The Artist. Unlike many of my peers, I enjoy & have seen silent movies. Charlie Chaplin was a genius. Without him, the film industry wouldn't be what it is today. Google him if you don't know. Needless to say, I loved the movie. I deeply loved & identified with the main character, George Valentin. He was a silent film star in the new talkie era. I saw his life as a metaphor for my love life. An aging star having to make way in a new world. He tried on his own & failed. He fell into deep depression & drank. I guess that's why I cried like a baby watching the movie to the shock of my two friends. It was so sad. He just wanted to carry on in life as it was. He was happy. Then things changed. He had a hard time changing with them. I felt his pain. I know what it's like to feel old & out of place. Try dating nowadays. It's brutal. I think I broke down even more when Peppy Miller tried to save him. To know that he had unseen hope. To see that he might have a future. Let me tell you, I feel hopeless 90% of the time. I'm like Charlie Brown after the fucking football gets pulled out from under him. I should have a "whomp-whah" noise to accompany me. So to see George have a future & to have love gave me hope. Now, I'm not as goddamned dashing as he is, but I haven't given up. Oddly, I don't know why. There's some stubborn resistance to this dismal search for love. I've found it before-twice. I can find it again. No matter how old I am or how washed up I seem. Fucking Dick Van Dyke just got married again. I mean, surely there's hope for me. My Peppy is out there somewhere.