Monday, May 08, 2006

A confession, and one that isn't really even all that embarrassing: I heart the 1972 movie The Poseidon Adventure.

Yes, it's campy. But c'mon, it's fun! And if you were a teenager kid in the early '70s, you can't help but have great memories of it. Uh... and when I write of memories, I mean *cough* real memories *cough*, not made-up stupid shit posing as expertise when in reality you don't know what the fuck you're talking about.

I own it on VHS. I own it on DVD. I've read the book. I even inserted a reference to The Poseidon Adventure into my new book. So you'd think I'd be excited about the remake that's being released on Friday, wouldn't you?

Uh... no.

It's not the B-list cast that bothers me. Please... I love a movie that stars Carol Lynley, Stella Stevens, and Roddy McDowall.

It's not the hype. In September, I am going to positively flog people into buying When the Stars Come Out, so I won't be a hypocrite about it.

It's not even that the remake stars Kurt Russell, about whom I have my own theory.

No, my problem is this (and if you originally guessed Kurt Russell, you would be half-right): Russell's character, Robert Ramsey, is a former mayor of New York City.

Think about that for a moment.

Then think of the former mayors of New York City.

See what I mean?

In real life, mayors of New York City are not capable of leading people to safety through the bowels of a capsized luxury liner. That is what maverick preachers, ex-cops, and Shelley Winters (before she *cough* doesn't *cough* "drown" with "bulging eyes" and "flailing arms" in "boiling water") are for. Mayors of New York City are capable of some significant things -- banishing smokers, dressing in drag, taking credit for the success of others, nagging and whining, et cetera -- but rescuing Richard Dreyfuss? I don't think so. Hell, even the arguably most heroic ex-mayor -- Rudy Giuliani, of 'saving the Roosevelt Island Tram passengers' fame -- would stay right in the overturned ballroom until every last shard of glass was picked up and he figured out who was to blame for the mess. Don't tell me he'd be squeezing his combover through ventilation ducts. Nuh-uh... no way.

That having been said, I'll probably see the remake at some point. I cannot live forever in the past with the classics. But will my heart be in it? I doubt it.

Could be worse, I suppose. Could be Silent Hill.