This is the next entry in a Theatre… a Movie… and a Time, a series that was begun here. Blogger Hammy Reviews inspired this memory download by reminding readers of one of the all-time great remakes that reaches its 30th this summer. Maybe I’d forgotten because I’m getting old. Or, inasmuch as the film’s brilliant bleakness coincided with a relationship passing its own expiration date.
“I’m saying… I’ll hurt you if you stay.”
The Marina Del Rey Six:
August 17,1986: Had an inauspicious feeling for this particular year the way it started. No, not the first PC virus, Brain, which began to make its presence1 felt that January. Heck, didn’t even have a personal computer then. At home or work — the latter had minicomputer and mainframe terminals, though, but they only on my periphery. Sadly, it was watching the immediate replays of Challenger getting blown from the sky on TV while at a nursing station the 28th of that month.
Tainted it from that point on, cruelly.
Navy divers found the astronauts’ bodies, in their largely intact but damaged crew compartment by March. Even if we were somewhat distracted the next month over with Geraldo Rivera’s farce2 as he planned to open you-know-what on live American TV with The Mystery of Al Capone’s Vaults, days later we’d be back on tragic course. Some out of way place in the Ukraine, then part of the Soviet Union, called Chernobyl. Spelled N-u-c-l-e-a-r D-i-s-a-s-t-e-r by most news outlets.
No surprise she-whose-name-must-not-be-spoken and I began our official separation act this very annum.
Unofficially, the signs were already there by ’85, the previous Olympic Year being our last good one together. If I were smart, would have done things differently. Then again, if I really reflect on the results, that may have changed what eventually came to pass. Perhaps missing the love of my life and the children that came from its upshot. With that perspective, for sure whatever misery lay ahead well worth whatever the distress it caused to, as Brenda Russell put it, “Get Here.”
Thus, distracted for the release of David Cronenberg’s redux of The Fly was I; the original shook me up long ago as a youngster one Saturday night. Surely, now as an adult, no way was anything going to shake me that much anymore. Yeah, ’86 had kinda sucked to that point, even if Greg LeMond3 won the Tour de France the month before. Since you-know-who was away on a two-week cruise, which turned into four, asked a co-worker if she’d be interested in seeing the flick.
Ended up back at the Marina Del Rey Six once again…for what turned out the last horror movie she’d ever see with me.