Today I watched An Affair to Remember. An old favorite for many reasons. One through one hundred being Cary Grant. Even now, no male movie star comes close. How could they? He never disappoints. Even a “bomb” with him in it is eminently enjoyable.
I don’t recall why I tuned into this, or how. But there it was on You Tube. And I couldn’t resist.
Call me nostalgic. Who cares? The past is with us right here, right now, at every moment, in more ways than we recognize. It connects me to my romance gene. And I choose to honor it with both sentiment and longing.
I’ve attached a clip from the movie. Watch it. And see the most romantic, sexy, classiest scenes, without any real sex in them at all. A look. A glance a nod, a raised eyebrow, a flirtatious smile, was all it took
Today, they hammer us over the head with whatever it is they want us to feel and know. They tell us. They show us. Then they tell us they told us and show us again, to make sure that we get it. They don’t trust us to get it on our own. Cary never did that. He didn’t need to. All he had to do was to “be there”. A hand in his pocket, that look on his face.
Grant created himself anew at the age of fourteen. From humble beginnings. From his father’s lie about his mother’s death. Then learning 20 years later she was alive and well, he literally tumbled and leapt his way into a new life in the U.S where he struggled on stilts at Coney Island, then made it to the Broadway stage, and on to Hollywood. After that, the way opened and it never closed.
Married five times, rumored to be bi-sexual, a rumor he neither confirmed nor denied, and while in his sixties, fathering a daughter and diving into the off- limits world of LSD as a form of psychotherapy and an exploration of spirit, he walked a walk like no one else’s. Even the wives he left in his wake, loved him to the end. They couldn’t help themselves.
They say George Clooney is the new Cary Grant. They are Wrong! There is no new Cary Grant. There never will be. There’s only one Cary Grant. The one who left us too soon. It doesn’t matter that he was 81. I miss him. And wish he were here.
But I guess we need to make do with what we have. I’m glad I’m not young anymore. This way I don’t need to fake it. I don’t even need to try.