Category: Fourre-tout

A little bit of everything

That smoking fetish

I just finished watching an old French movie called “Les choses de la vie” (The things of life) starring Romy Schneider and Michel Piccoli.

It is a good, well-acted movie, and unlike many French flicks it has a beginning and (wonder of wonders) even an end.
I thoroughly enjoyed watching it and I would recommend it, with a caveat.

But before I go any further, I would like to point out that this movie was made in 1970 and this date is important because it reflects the mores of the time.

In practically every sequence, the (rather selfish) hero is smoking. And you can tell by the way he is handling his cigarette that this guy is not a recreational smoker.
He is not smoking just for the movie. This guy (like most of his contemporaries) is a hardcore smoking addict.

As a non-smoker I found this rather annoying.
One cigarette once in a while maybe, but chain-smoking? Give us a break!
I kept thinking “enough with that stupid cigarette”…
And how could any woman be attracted to a guy who reeks of tobacco and smells like an old ashtray? Life is full of mysteries…

You have got to admit that the cigarette industry did a masterful job in glamorizing the stinking weed.

Since I am also fond of old movies, I watch TMC (Turner Classic Movies) and in the 30’s it seems that there was a non-stop drinking and smoking binge.
In every movie sequence, men and women alike would light a cigarette and reach for a drink.
Of course, drinking and smoking in tuxedos added a little glamour to those pagan rituals, but still…
I bet that even Asta (Nick and Nora’s pooch) also smoked…

In our movie, Piccoli is not only a smoking addict, he is also a driving maniac.
Buckling up? Not for such a macho dude. And of course he is puffing on a ciggy while speeding in a blinding rain.
Personally, I cannot walk and chew gum at the same time. How can anybody puff on the weed and drive simultaneously without being distracted?

Piccoli is much older than me, but he is still part of my generation and I shudder thinking that I went through that period rather unscathed.

And the temptations were there. While in the French army, every two weeks I was provided with a dozen packs of Gauloises.
The food was lousy, but to keep the troops happy (and addicted) the French government (who had a very profitable monopoly on cigarettes) made sure that every recruit had his daily fix of cigarettes.
Future customers you know…

Anyway, “Les choses de la vie” despite its noxious fumes is still a good movie and I still recommend it, but I am surprised that Michel Piccoli (at age 87) is still able to breathe.

Alain

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Fame is not a part time job

Some people, especially young girls, dream of becoming movie stars.
The lure of fame is very extremely powerful, but one ought to remember that the path to stardom is fraught with pitfalls.

marilyn-monroe-04Becoming a star often starts with a Faustian deal.
The would-be celebrity strikes a bargain with the Devil, exchanging her/his soul for worldly pleasures.
For a while, everything will work out swimmingly. People will adore you and shower you with praise.

But the fine prints of the Devil’s contract stipulate that once you have signed on the dotted line, you forsake any claims to privacy.

And there is no gentlemen’s agreement between the press and luminaries; in the paper chase everybody and everything is fair game.
Especially for paparazzi.
Your mug, your flaws are their bread and butter and they are hungry.

Often overlooked by eager applicants, the fine lines in the Faustian contract also stipulate that you are bound to remain young and beautiful forever, otherwise the deal becomes null and void.

But beautiful people (like all of us, but to a lesser extent) are cursed with a condition called “aging”.

A song written in 1948 by French poet Raymond Queneau warns young girls about this predicament.

The words go:

Si tu crois petite
Que ton teint de rose, ta taille de guêpe
Tes mignons biceps, tes ongles d´émail
Ta cuisse de nymphe, et ton pied léger
Vont durer toujours
Ce que tu te goures..

 If you imagine little girl
That your rosy complexion, your narrow waist,
Your cute biceps, your polished nails
Your nymph’s thigh, your light foot
Will last forever
You are mistaken

If with time your body loses its tone and luster (and it will), don’t even think of the beach or bikinis anymore. And be wary of public appearances.
Paparazzi using sniper’s telephoto lenses will hit you at the most inopportune moment.
And their shots are not always flattering.

If you are not extremely careful (to the point of paranoia), cellulite, flabby stomach or drooping breasts will soon be plastered all over the Internet.
And the people who once adored you will forsake you for the next starlet sensation.

Personally I am not worried. I am just ruggedly handsome but not worth any paparazzi’s time.

So, before wishing upon a star, watch what you are asking for, for you might just get it!

Alain

 

Anti “High Five”

 “What kills a skunk is the publicity it gives itself.” Abraham Lincoln

epic-high-five-batmanOne of the qualities that I find most endearing in a man is humility, a modest view of his own importance.
And that’s why I have such a strong dislike of the commonly named “High Five”.
That childish practice in which two people slap each other’s palms in a gesture of self-congratulation.

Everything that is overused becomes a worn out prop for people who lack imagination.
When you cannot come up with an original idea, you start stealing somebody else’s shtick. You start aping those dubious sports figures bulging with steroids, and those individuals are not exactly shining examples of propriety.

In a world swarming with sycophants, a man needs to remain grounded.
When accomplishing something slightly above average, he could acknowledge his satisfaction with a modest hand gesture or a slight bow, but definitely not with a low-class High Five.

The High Five is not even a distant cousin of humility. It basically says: I just did something exceptionally good and I deserve applauds for it!
Bollocks! as our British friends would politely say.

Only spectators are licensed to pass judgment. If they deem your actions meritorious, they will applaud you. If not, it is definitely not up to you to pat yourself on the back.

Nothing is more unpleasant than showing off, and High Fives are tangible signs of hubris.

On the pétanque field or anywhere else, it would behoove you to avoid these childish displays of narcissism and stick to more restrained forms of jubilation.
It would be greatly appreciated.

Alain
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