Sunday, November 20, 2011

Splendor in the Grass and Angry pencils

What though the radiance which was once so bright

Be now for ever taken from my sight,

    Though nothing can bring back the hour

Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
WORDSWORTH
from  Intimations of Mortality

Shanna and I watched this last night. For its time, it was a breakthrough movie showing the angst of adolescence, a welcome change from the Beach Bingo films slightly later on. Basically 18 year olds played by Natalie Wood and Warren Beatty have this all-consuming hots for each other. They so much want to have sex but only bad girls  would agree to have sex. This is told to them over and over. She asks her neurotic mother if she herself ever desired her father. No, never...sex is just a chore and  you better not give in or you will lose him and your reputation. Now this didn't quite ring true. Not that one would deny ones sexuality but who would ask their mother, especially in 1928, what sexual desires they felt? Who would dare admit to their mother that they want sex? Not me, that's for sure. Not my daughters. Meanwhile, the Warren character falling in love interferes with his father's vision for him. The girl has to go and Natalie is dumped. This leads to a nervous breakdown evidenced by Natalie throwing herself in a steaming bath tub. If this bath water was so hot, why isn't her skin red and why doesn't her mom get her out of there? Then we noticed the water only was steaming in part of the tub..we could see the tell-tale chunks of dry ice providing the steam.

The title is of course from the Wordsworth poem they are studying in class, a class that no one is actually paying attention to anything aside from their own hormones. The Natalie character wiles away her time writing her beloved's name over and over. During the time she is having her nervous breakdown, she is able to correctly interpret its meaning as she is living through it. Her happiness will be just a distant memory.

Interesting. I could not pronounce the title of the poem. I thought it was Imitations...

Whatever crud Naomi had, I have now. I spent last night shivering despite all my blankets and throwing up. I can't ever imagine eating again.The last thing I ate and I will never have this again, is penne arrabbiata, literally angry pencils. Meanwhile I agreed to cook for our ever increasing family tonight..
I am so tired and feel so bad. I never even threw up on the Red Devil though I was in a constant state of queasiness.

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