Lady and The Tramp

I just watched The Last Days of Disco, directed by the same guy (Whit Stillman) who did Metropolitan and Barcelona.  By the way, I heard that this movie isn’t and never will be on DVD, so do yourself a favor and dowload it immediately. 

The point is, though, that although LOTS of things really struck me and were brilliant about this movie, the following monologue REALLY perked up my ears:

[referring to Lady and the Tramp] There is something depressing about it, and it’s not really about dogs. Except for some superficial bow-wow stuff at the start, the dogs all represent human types, which is where it gets into real trouble. Lady, the ostensible protagonist, is a fluffy blond Cocker Spaniel with absolutely nothing on her brain. She’s great-looking, but – let’s be honest – incredibly insipid. Tramp, the love interest, is a smarmy braggart of the most obnoxious kind – an oily jailbird out for a piece of tail, or… whatever he can get….he’s a self-confessed chicken thief, and all-around sleazeball. What’s the function of a film of this kind? Essentially as a primer on love and marriage directed at very young people, imprinting on their little psyches the idea that smooth-talking delinquents recently escaped from the local pound are a good match for nice girls from sheltered homes. When in ten years the icky human version of Tramp shows up around the house, their hormones will be racing and no one will understand why. Films like this program women to adore jerks.

And this, my friends, is what I was talking about w/r/t Dylan McKay, and that’s why I love/hate him.  I love him because I was programmed to, and I hate that even though I intellectually understand this, I cannot transcend it.  And that is why I am retarded.  Thank you, and goodnight.

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