On consecutive days,
she waits
For the tall, pocket-filled, bag-filled foreigners to escape
From the pristine chill of
The supermarket's icy grip
Hoping,
For five hundred,
Or
One thousand,
Riel
Or,
Possibly even
A dollar,
American,
Because two days
Without food
Is long
Enough.
Monday, January 31, 2005
"I'm Chevy Chase, and you're not."
Thank God for Chevy Chase.
And I'm not the only one who thinks that way, either. I've been meaning to write a blog about the need for more Chevy in American cinema, and then, lo and behold, the online edition of The New York Post today featured in interview with Chase at the Sundance Film Festival, where he plays a part in a new independent film that allows him to show a little more depth and emotion than in his past, comedic roles.
About time, I say.
Bill Murray was given a big-time career rejuvenation by filmmaker Wes Anderson in Rushmore and The Royal Tenenbaums and The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou.
Why has it taken so long for directors of my generation to latch on to Chevy Chase?
In the Fletch and Vacation films, we saw the Chevy persona in all its glory. He was either the rogue or the naif, the sly one or the clueless one. Not too many people could pull off one of those parts believably, let alone two.
Ah, but then again, few like Chevy have walked the face of this earth. If Chevy and Jesus had lived at the same time (and who's to say they didn't), Jesus would have said: "Dude, the water's all yours. Go walkin' on it, bro."
Like most comedians, you either get Chevy, or you don't. I know people that despise Mike Myers, who I love; the Canadian sketch show The Kids in the Hall is another one of those, well, acquired tastes. To all those who dislike Chevy, who haven't thought of him in years, who wonder what all the fuss is about, let me make it clear that I hear your voices, and I respect their worth. Dissent is the cornerstone of a healthy democracy. (Even though you're wrong...)
Like Bill Murray, Chevy has an often pompous, arrogant self-confident exterior that hides a great, deep, boundless, endless, depthless inner pain. (A little dramatic, I know, but too much exposure to Mr.Chase has that effect on people.) The great mark of an actor, I think, is to be able to see that character thinking -- to believe that something unspoken is going on beneath the lines that actually are being spoken.
Chevy has that, in spades. (David Spade, despite his name, doesn't have it in spades. Go figure.) That kind of silent judgement. Works great in comedy, for those long, lingering deadpan looks. Works great in drama, too.
In the above-mentioned article, he sheepishly mentions being a bit of an arrogant s.o.b. in the past. (He's a legendary dick, in other words.) Who cares, say I. If we were to judge the worth of our actors by their real-life personalities, who among us would be innocent?
So I say: Now that Chevy Chase's back on the silver screen, let's keep him there. And give him some drama to play, alongside the comedic stylings that shaped my pre-pubescent mind.
He deserves another shot.
The world needs more Chevy.
And I'm not the only one who thinks that way, either. I've been meaning to write a blog about the need for more Chevy in American cinema, and then, lo and behold, the online edition of The New York Post today featured in interview with Chase at the Sundance Film Festival, where he plays a part in a new independent film that allows him to show a little more depth and emotion than in his past, comedic roles.
About time, I say.
Bill Murray was given a big-time career rejuvenation by filmmaker Wes Anderson in Rushmore and The Royal Tenenbaums and The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou.
Why has it taken so long for directors of my generation to latch on to Chevy Chase?
In the Fletch and Vacation films, we saw the Chevy persona in all its glory. He was either the rogue or the naif, the sly one or the clueless one. Not too many people could pull off one of those parts believably, let alone two.
Ah, but then again, few like Chevy have walked the face of this earth. If Chevy and Jesus had lived at the same time (and who's to say they didn't), Jesus would have said: "Dude, the water's all yours. Go walkin' on it, bro."
Like most comedians, you either get Chevy, or you don't. I know people that despise Mike Myers, who I love; the Canadian sketch show The Kids in the Hall is another one of those, well, acquired tastes. To all those who dislike Chevy, who haven't thought of him in years, who wonder what all the fuss is about, let me make it clear that I hear your voices, and I respect their worth. Dissent is the cornerstone of a healthy democracy. (Even though you're wrong...)
Like Bill Murray, Chevy has an often pompous, arrogant self-confident exterior that hides a great, deep, boundless, endless, depthless inner pain. (A little dramatic, I know, but too much exposure to Mr.Chase has that effect on people.) The great mark of an actor, I think, is to be able to see that character thinking -- to believe that something unspoken is going on beneath the lines that actually are being spoken.
Chevy has that, in spades. (David Spade, despite his name, doesn't have it in spades. Go figure.) That kind of silent judgement. Works great in comedy, for those long, lingering deadpan looks. Works great in drama, too.
In the above-mentioned article, he sheepishly mentions being a bit of an arrogant s.o.b. in the past. (He's a legendary dick, in other words.) Who cares, say I. If we were to judge the worth of our actors by their real-life personalities, who among us would be innocent?
So I say: Now that Chevy Chase's back on the silver screen, let's keep him there. And give him some drama to play, alongside the comedic stylings that shaped my pre-pubescent mind.
He deserves another shot.
The world needs more Chevy.
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