Saturday, 29 June 2024

Lazy Sunday Ponderings

 A few nights ago, my 19-year-old son clicked his nail against the plastic tumbler containing the water with which he was washing down his antiseizure medication (seriously, one of the tablets in his evening dosage looks like a horse pill). He clicked it again, several times and with feeling. He said, 'Mum, this sounds like Low Rider.' Sure enough, he clicked out the telling tattoo: Click-clickclick-click-clickclick-clickclick-click-clickclick, then he and I 'rapped' in unison: 'All...my...friends...know the low rider'. Maybe not an event of great significance, but it was a fun mother-and-son moment. As the youngsters grow up and away from you, it's special to cherish those moments. That song makes me think of the indie film Dazed and Confused (not to be confused with the Led Zeppelin one), set on the last day of school in 1976. I've seen it a few times since its release in the Nineties, and last night, I watched it again, courtesy of a streaming service. 

I do enjoy that movie. It has an unrecognisable Ben Affleck as O'Bannion, a senior school bully who is even more loathsome than Biff Tannen from Back to the Future. The movie's non-diegesis is particularly effective when O'Bannion is is using a wooden paddle on the butt of a freshman named Mitch, whilst the viewer hears No More Mister Nice Guy by Alice Cooper. The whacks are filmed in slow motion, and the young actor playing Mitch shows his humiliation and agony in a way that made me, the viewer, want to weep for him. But don't worry, O'Bannion gets his comeuppance and it's just as enjoyable as watching George McFly sock Biff Tannen in the jaw. 

So, I'm having a bit of a lazy one today. With practicum completed, I am now in the process of organising internship, which is very exciting. I was thinking of booking some theatre tickets through the week, but unfortunately, my cooktop has to be replaced. Damn it all 

What am I pondering of late? This is the sort of comment that is going to upset some purists, but I think the Kinks had better songs than the Beatles. There, I said it. This is probably going to fling the yowling feline among the cooing birdies, but I stand by what I said. 

What say you?

No comments:

Post a Comment