Early in the time my family converged at my niece's home to process the approaching death of my sister Martha, several people were around her in the curtained alcove her daughter Bonnie created for the hospice bed. She was still conversing with visitors at this stage, though she sometimes wandered. Bonnie and Kathryn (the sister I came with) was helping her with a garment, and I heard her say something that caused some mistaken assumptions about my sister complaining. It's not that she didn't complain, or have a lot to complain about, but they were mistaken and I had to correct them. A minute or two later, I called Kathryn and Bonnie over and explained.
The lady of the house comes home at midnight. She pulls the long cord, and a moment later, her butler appears. "Madame?"
She speaks in a low voice. "Charles. Please remove my wrap." "Yes, Madame."
"Charles, I'd like you to unzip my dress." "Yes, Madame."
Garment by garment, it continues. Then: "That will be all, Charles." "Very good, Madame."
"And, Charles?" "Yes, Madame?"
"Don't ever let me catch you wearing my clothes again."
See, they thought she was complaining, but she was actually quoting the punch line of a story she'd told me when she was about ten, and it was important that they know what she was saying. Punch lines were our life. Also, it was a good story, so.
BEDAZZLED, the Faustian comedy feature by Peter Cook and Dudley Moore, delighted me instantly, though I soon started thinking that this part or that part was dated or awkward or embarrassing. Oddly, as time went by and I got older--two things that occurred simultaneously--the awkwardnesses seem to have hit closer to the mark than I knew, and the dated aspect becomes the perfection of a period piece. In short, the good bits keep getting better and the weak ones either do or become unimportant, and what's left is one of my generation's classics.
Dudley Moore, aka Stanley Moon, is a diner cook in love with the unattainable waitress Margaret Spencer (Eleanor Bron, who I remember best from HELP). Stanley is approached by George Spiggot (Peter Cook), who being Lucifer the Lord of the Underworld offers George seven wishes. Seven chances to win the amazing Margaret, and any one of them should do it, right? Stanley lets himself be convinced: his original sin. The movie shows us the relationship between these two men, with Margaret as a pawn We never see her internal world, and most of her time is spent in scenarios concocted by George in order to ruin Stanley's wishes, and her role is akin to that of another castaway playing a part in a dream sequence on Gilligan's Island.
George also manages the seven deadly sins, each personified by an actor. Raquel Welch as Lust lights up the screen with a broad Southern accent. He also takes Stanley with him on some of his rounds, which consist of a series of petty annoyances against people (and perhaps animals), because it's his job, as he explains to Stanley at some length. God makes him do this, in a pretty direct way. It's not George's fault. Nothing ever is. (I knew a George.)
A favorite scene of mine has the two men dressed in white and showing up at an elderly woman's house. George says that they're the Fruney Green Eyewash men, and if she has five bottles of Fruney Green Eyewash in her home, she will win a tidy little prize. Of course she doesn't, but George encourages her to nip to the chemist and bring them back, and he'll pretend they were there all along. After she goes off on her bike, George raids her fridge and eats her raspberries and cream. Stanley complains, but has some too. Anyway, George offers, it's all her fault because she wanted to lie about the eyewash.
Speaking of raspberries, the deal is that Stanley can end any wish and go back to status quo by blowing a raspberry. George's preferred magic words are "Julie Andrews!" but he can substitute. The scenarios of Stanley's wishes, egged on by George's devilish suggestions, are the formal set pieces of the movie, and they get more and more exacting as Stanley endeavors each time to make THIS one George-proof. Witness ye now my favorite, a self-contained "Ready, Steady, Go!" parody on a show called "Going, Going, Gone!" Stanley has wished for fame, and he has wished to win the heart of the fair Margaret (I love the moment when she's watching Stanley on the stage and is suddenly transfixed by Stanley on the monitor.).
So Stanley goes on, singing a song written by Dudley Moore, and everything goes according to plan for a while.
It's the ultimate (as Dudley could well deliver, and often did) in its field, and its field is NEEDINESS. You will never hear a needier pop song, more baldly delivered. Watch the choreography. Then note the exact opposite of all fo it in the follow-up, also by Dudley, delivered by the guy who just couldn't help being tall and handsome and cold.
(Incidentally, Bongwater covered "Bedazzled," the song, gender-flipped and hilariously camp. Recommended.)
DFT pitched the first one months ago. This was quickly knocked together for a Twitter post using the photo that prompted it and an image search result, and I'm putting it here so I can get it with equal facility if I need it again.
And when I take walks, I pass yards with INVISIBLE FENCE signs, and I always think of this. So today I drew it.
After I drew this and redrew it (using card stock this time), I started thinking maybe it should be a poodle. But they're not really a French dog anyway. They were bred in Germany, for retrieving game in the water. I did a little work in Photoshop to make the sign neater, completely missing the vague remnant of grey in the bottom corner because I was too lazy to scan it and took a pic of it with my phone instead. Paying for it now.
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