Sorry about bringing up clowns again, so soon, and outside of Halloween Season, and it’s not like I even love clowns all that much! And I’m not even saying that I am obsessed with them, but even so — obsessions don’t understand your notions of there being appropriate times or places. In fact, an obsession wouldn’t comprehend the word “inappropriate” at all, or “creepy” for that matter. And neither do I!
Anyway, I saw this beautiful gif the other day, while I was living on the internet as I do, and I became mesmerized with a thought. Mr. Rogers was a good man, a saint, and is very definitely a saint in our Sneerholic pantheon. He represents all that can be good in the world and is without blame. You know how we feel about him. On the other hand, clowns are commonly known to be evil, I guess, in these modern times. They are frightening and often up to no good. ALLEGEDLY. There are plenty of kind clowns out there, clowning for the sick and in parades, but every single one of us suspects their motives. Each of us wonders what possibly-literal skeletons are in the closets of their murderhouses. Thanks, John Wayne Gacy!
Have you ever watched Sunset Boulevard starring William Holden, Erich von Stroheim, and the unconquerable Gloria Swanson? If not, I won’t mind if you open Netflix or find some other method to stop everything you’re doing just to watch it right now. I can wait.
As you (now) know, this film is a masterpiece of cinema which laid bare the cruelty of these things: aging, celebrity, Hollywood, youth, pride, vanity, EVERY ASPECT OF LIFE, and probably some other stuff. I’m not writing a thoughtful essay here! It did nothing to fix any of it, as far as I know, but it is interesting to see how the old silent stars were thought of and treated in the 1950s. I imagine that the cycle continues and the young talent of today considers the actors and actresses of the 80s and 90s to be weird old fossils from another time. I assume that the fate of Norma Desmond is what every actress fears for her future — or maybe kind of wants it, who am I to say?
None of us will ever be as rich as she was, or as influential in any industry, that is a certainty. I have made a little maze so that we can pretend to know what it’s like. From the comfort of your ostentatious manor, embark upon the wobbly journey to your great return. You will encounter all kinds of obstacles from nostalgic reveries to suicide attempts to homicide, but if you can keep your focus, you’ll be in the pictures again. You’ll get the attention you deserve, you icon. You legend.
Anyone who knows anything about Marilyn Monroe is probably aware that she was insecure, tormented by fame, and battling addictions that were rooted in an unhappy childhood and an unhappy adulthood. A classic tale, was she, of the sorrows and stresses of the Hollywood Machine. If you didn’t know that, now you do. She probably had actual clinical depression, and mental illness is no laughing matter, but as I read through her various quotes the other day, I couldn’t help but notice that she said some pretty sad things! My heart went “boohoo” as I saw her pleas for help which I can only assume went ignored. She had to be the Blonde Bombshell when, had she been a pretty young thing any time after the 1980s, she could have been a goth-punk, a Suicide Girl, or a generic mall goth. Instead of quotes immortalized on imdb, her quotes could have been unseen on deadjournal, or carved into the skin of her own tummy and shown only to her myspace friends. Marilyn Monroe might have suffered so much because she felt out of place in every way, yearning for a subculture that didn’t exist, and then she was taken from the world far too young.