Oct. 2, 2009
COMMENTARY: Be Kind. Rewind.
By Shelly Reuben
After recently watching Brigadoon on TV, I remembered that just over a year ago, Cyd Charisse, the long-stemmed beauty who swirled her skirts and flashed her go-on-forever legs in all of those great MGM musicals, died. From dust she came and to dust she returned. Elderly. Earthbound. Of mortal clay.
This, however, is not the way that it should have been, for Cyd Charisse did not come from earth dust, she came from stardust. She was more than mortal, and she should not have died that way.
I don’t begrudge her the aging process. No indeed. There is much to be said for setting new goals, mulling over happy memories, and pulling out gray hairs.
What I resent is the tortured and tortuous ending. I would rewrite it. I would provide her with a simple, inexpensive, easy-to-install, rewind button. Tasteful. Color coordinated. Small and recessed to blend with any décor.
There she would be. At the far end of a life well lived. Height diminished. Bones creaky. Joy and felicity on the ebb. She would lean forward, reach out, and press the rewind button. Instantly, her life would go into reverse. Her health would improve. Her bones would strengthen. Wrinkles, sagging skin, and arthritic joints would all disappear. Her skin would be youthful and dewy. Her legs would be long, lithe, and lovely.
LIGHTS. SOUND. ACTION.
Cyd Charisse sings, dances, leaps, and pirouettes. Then, suddenly, she stops, right in the middle of a graceful swoon into the arms of Gene Kelly or Fred Astaire. He – Gene or Fred – lifts her back to her feet. She looks directly into the camera and smiles her slow, secret, sensuous smile. Then she begins a rapid sequence of spins that carry her off screen, her swirling skirt giving us one last look at the whiplash beauty of her long, long legs. And that’s it. She is gone forever. Still young, vital, sexy, energetic, and beautiful.
That is how she should have left us. That is how we should all go.
Gary Cooper? Press the rewind button. Lean, lanky, still handsome and still defending law and honor in some small Western town, he dies at high noon.
Press the same button, and there goes John Wayne. Tall against a John Ford sunset, his slow, graceless swagger bristling with manhood, both of his lungs still intact.
Paul Newman. Not one of my favorites, but we can give him a crack at the rewind button, as well. Let him be a hustler again. Be Hud. Be Ari Ben Cannon. Work a sting, reclaim his cocky confidence, and exit strutting.
And Charlie King. My husband. My own particular hero. Press the rewind button for him, too. For him, especially. Let the winsome devil of mischief spring back into his diamond blue eyes as he shrugs into a pair of fireman boots, saunters to the ugliest burned-out building in town, digs through the ashes, and figures out how that miserable son of a bitch fire began. Then, one last devilish grin, a flash of lightning, and like the phoenix, he disappears forever in a glorious burst of flames.
One last stride down Main Street. One last stroll into the sunset. One last poke through the ashes. One last leap and swirl across a stage.
Press the rewind button. CUT. PRINT. THAT’S A WRAP.
What a wonderful way to go.
Copyright © 2008, 2009, Shelly Reuben Originally published in The Evening Sun, Norwich, NY - evesun.com Shelly Reuben is an Edgar-nominated author, private detective, and fire investigator. For more about her books, visit www.shellyreuben.com. Link to David M. Kinchen's reviews of her novels "The Skirt Man" and "Tabula Rasa": http://www.huntingtonnews.net/columns/060605-kinchen-review.html
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COMMENTARY: Be Kind. Rewind.
By Shelly Reuben
After recently watching Brigadoon on TV, I remembered that just over a year ago, Cyd Charisse, the long-stemmed beauty who swirled her skirts and flashed her go-on-forever legs in all of those great MGM musicals, died. From dust she came and to dust she returned. Elderly. Earthbound. Of mortal clay.
This, however, is not the way that it should have been, for Cyd Charisse did not come from earth dust, she came from stardust. She was more than mortal, and she should not have died that way.
I don’t begrudge her the aging process. No indeed. There is much to be said for setting new goals, mulling over happy memories, and pulling out gray hairs.
What I resent is the tortured and tortuous ending. I would rewrite it. I would provide her with a simple, inexpensive, easy-to-install, rewind button. Tasteful. Color coordinated. Small and recessed to blend with any décor.
There she would be. At the far end of a life well lived. Height diminished. Bones creaky. Joy and felicity on the ebb. She would lean forward, reach out, and press the rewind button. Instantly, her life would go into reverse. Her health would improve. Her bones would strengthen. Wrinkles, sagging skin, and arthritic joints would all disappear. Her skin would be youthful and dewy. Her legs would be long, lithe, and lovely.
LIGHTS. SOUND. ACTION.
Cyd Charisse sings, dances, leaps, and pirouettes. Then, suddenly, she stops, right in the middle of a graceful swoon into the arms of Gene Kelly or Fred Astaire. He – Gene or Fred – lifts her back to her feet. She looks directly into the camera and smiles her slow, secret, sensuous smile. Then she begins a rapid sequence of spins that carry her off screen, her swirling skirt giving us one last look at the whiplash beauty of her long, long legs. And that’s it. She is gone forever. Still young, vital, sexy, energetic, and beautiful.
That is how she should have left us. That is how we should all go.
Gary Cooper? Press the rewind button. Lean, lanky, still handsome and still defending law and honor in some small Western town, he dies at high noon.
Press the same button, and there goes John Wayne. Tall against a John Ford sunset, his slow, graceless swagger bristling with manhood, both of his lungs still intact.
Paul Newman. Not one of my favorites, but we can give him a crack at the rewind button, as well. Let him be a hustler again. Be Hud. Be Ari Ben Cannon. Work a sting, reclaim his cocky confidence, and exit strutting.
And Charlie King. My husband. My own particular hero. Press the rewind button for him, too. For him, especially. Let the winsome devil of mischief spring back into his diamond blue eyes as he shrugs into a pair of fireman boots, saunters to the ugliest burned-out building in town, digs through the ashes, and figures out how that miserable son of a bitch fire began. Then, one last devilish grin, a flash of lightning, and like the phoenix, he disappears forever in a glorious burst of flames.
One last stride down Main Street. One last stroll into the sunset. One last poke through the ashes. One last leap and swirl across a stage.
Press the rewind button. CUT. PRINT. THAT’S A WRAP.
What a wonderful way to go.
Copyright © 2008, 2009, Shelly Reuben Originally published in The Evening Sun, Norwich, NY - evesun.com Shelly Reuben is an Edgar-nominated author, private detective, and fire investigator. For more about her books, visit www.shellyreuben.com. Link to David M. Kinchen's reviews of her novels "The Skirt Man" and "Tabula Rasa": http://www.huntingtonnews.net/columns/060605-kinchen-review.html
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