While Bruce was in Washington, I was at a place where I’m sure he’d rather have been, indeed the place where we last saw each other, the Reagan Library.
I went up on Saturday with three Hollywood conservatives and two of their wives. The images of the Gipper made me forget my anxiety about the coming transfer of power in our nation’s capital. It seemed everyone there was just so friendly. I kept thinking of the last lines from Shane, just wanting to replace the name of the title character with that of the greatest Republican president of the last century.
I think I’ll be making regular trips up there over the next four years.
I had thought I’d be blogging more tonight (I write this just before I head to bed on Sunday night), but not in much of a writing mood. Perhaps, it was a combination of the Reagan Library and my resumption of serious work on my dissertation. I have a meeting with my dissertation adviser on Wednesday which has forced me (in a good way) to focus my thoughts. As I organize my notes, I’m feeling a little less depressed than I once did, realizing how much I’ve learned since I began my research, so I should soon be able to start writing.
I’ve also been watching a lot of movies lately, revisiting classics and old favorites (and occasionally discovering a new one). Lately, I’m been working my way through a Bette Davis collection I had bought this past summer when I chanced upon it on sale at Amoeba. It’s amazing how all too many gay men focus on Davis‘ campy and bitchy performances and ignore her more dramatic roles where she demonstrates a range that few of her peers could match. Too often, we discount (or downright ignore) the vulnerability she so masterfully portrays, a vulnerability that often puts that bitchiness into a psychological context.
Finally, it’s been kind of weird this past forty-eight hours having barely checked the Internet and barely glancing at my e-mail. I do hope to get back to things. I attended a West Hollywood townhall on Proposition 8 today (Sunday) which should provide fodder for at least three posts.
Hey, who orignated “The Internets”? I forget.
(the phrase, with an ‘s’)
It’s amazing how all too many gay men focus on Davis‘ campy and bitchy performances and ignore her more dramatic roles where she demonstrates a range that few of her peers could match.
This is part of why I consider camp to be hateful and more than a tad misogynistic.
Ditto that on camp, Attmay.
I’d say that the quintessential gay Bette Davis film is “Now, Voyager.” You are either Paul Henried, or Bette (a) before her makeover or (b) after her makeover.
To me, that is the film that captures La Davis’ true essence.
Regards,
Peter H.