Skip to main content

National Glenn Close Day

"The Wife" was mediocre, and Glenn Close was fine, but I'M OK WITH LIFETIME ACHIEVEMENT AWARDS. Think of Glenn's impending Oscar win as a lifetime achievement compensatory gesture. And so it's time to revisit my favorite Glenn trivia:

*Glenn helped in one of history's most famous COMPENSATORY GESTURE events. I'm talking about Jeremy Irons's win for "Reversal of Fortune." Mr. Irons was OK in that sort-of-undistinguished movie, but he really deserved the Oscar for his work one year prior--his work in "Dead Ringers." Overlook the man for "Dead Ringers"? Hand him an Oscar for "Reversal of Fortune." Who assisted Mr. Irons in "Reversal"? That's right. Creepy Glenn Close.

*When did Glenn deserve to win? For "Fatal Attraction," obviously. Not that year? Then hand it to her for "Dangerous Liaisons." Good grief. She doesn't really deserve the prize this year; the rightful winner would be Carey Mulligan, or Maggie Gyllenhaal, or Melissa McCarthy. But, again: GLENN IS GLENN!!!

*Smart women work with Stephen Frears. Glenn Close discovered this BEFORE ANYONE ELSE. Her work in "Dangerous Liaisons" was a feast. A banquet that does not grow old. Which women learned from Glenn Close? Anjelica Huston (THE GRIFTERS). Mirren (THE QUEEN). Judi Dench (PHILOMENA). Meryl Streep (FLORENCE FOSTER JENKINS). These are all iconic performances by women in superb movies. (And let's hear it for Stephen Frears.) But who came before Streep-Huston-Bening-Michelle Pfeiffer-Dench-and-Dench-again in the Stephen Frears canon? You guessed it. GLENN FUCKING CLOSE.

*Smart women work with Adrian Lyne. After "Fatal Attraction," Adrian Lyne turned around and did another juicy potboiler, with another juicy role for a crazed lady. Yes, we're talking about the great masterwork "Unfaithful," with the unforgettable Diane Lane. But who colonized Lyne's terrain years before Lane? You guessed it again. GLENN FUCKING CLOSE.

*Smart women work with Stephen Sondheim. Oh yes. Oh yes. Glenn--being imperious Glenn--has deigned to do only the best Sondheim material. We're talking about "Send in the Clowns." She did it for Steve's seventieth birthday. A perfect match--because SS had written the song for someone who can't really sing. And Glenn can't really sing. She knocked the song out of the park. (Also, do you know how Sondheim is obsessed with "form matches content"? Here's the perfect example. Desiree is a mature person. She is the most adult of all of Sondheim's characters. Here she is coping with mortification, and how does she do it? By laughing at herself. "Send in the Clowns." A consummately mature gesture. Perfect song in the perfect spot in an almost-perfect show.)

Later, Glenn attempted "Losing My Mind," in a tribute to Barbara Cook. This wasn't a perfect match (though obnoxious Anne Hathaway, clutching her pearls in the audience, seems to have seen something I'm missing). Even if Glenn can't properly slaughter this song, we can pause and note what a masterpiece the text itself is. Taking us through a day: "the sun comes up," "the coffee cup," "I dim the lights," "spend sleepless nights." The speaker's neediness and lunacy conveyed through recurring questions: "Does no one know....it's like I'm losing my mind....?" Fabulous.

*Smart women play the villain. Who cares about the hero? The evildoer has all the fun. Close's iconic performance in Season One of (the under-rated) "Damages" still haunts my dreams. Ditto: Script-wielding murderess in "Sunset Boulevard." I'm ashamed to say I've not yet seen Scary Glenn Close in the much-beloved Chiklis vehicle, "The Shield," but that day will come.

We are all living in Glenn's world, helping her to be the best she can be. Buy your Norma Desmond hat. Plan your best rendition of I will not be IGNORED...Find 101 dalmatians. Do all you can to make your Glenn Close Night special. Wade through the tedious Alfonso Cuaron speech you'll likely hear, earlier in the evening. We're all just waiting for Glenn to arrive....

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...

Joshie

  When I was growing up, a class birthday involved Hostess cupcakes. Often, the cupcakes would come in a shoebox, so you could taste a leathery residue (during the party). Times change. You can't bring a treat into a public school, in 2024, because heaven knows what kind of allergies might lurk, in unseen corners, in the classroom. But Joshua's teacher will allow: a dance party, a pajama day, or a guest reader. I chose to bring a story for Joshua's birthday (observed), but I didn't think through the role that anxiety might play in this interaction. We talk, in this house, quite a bit about anxiety; one game-changer, for J, has been a daily list of activities, so that he knows exactly what to expect. He gets a look of profound satisfaction when he sees the agenda; it doesn't really matter what the specific events happen to be. It's just about knowing, "I can anticipate X, Y, and Z." Joshua struggled with his celebration. He wore his nervousness on his f...

Josh at Five

 Joshie's project is "flexibility"; the goal is to see that a plan is just an idea, not a gospel, not a guarantee. This is difficult. Yesterday, we went to a restaurant--billed as "open," with unlocked doors--and the owner informed us of an "error in advertising." But Joshie couldn't accept the word "closed." He threw himself on the floor, then climbed on the furniture. I felt for the owner, until he nervously made a reference to "the glass windows." He imagined that my child might toss himself through a sealed window, like Mary Katherine Gallagher, or like Bruce Willis, in "Die Hard." Then--thank the Lord!--I was able to laugh. The thing that really has therapeutic value for Joshie is: a firetruck. If we are out in public, and he spots a parked truck, he wants to climb on each surface. He breathlessly alludes to the wheels, the door, the windows. If an actual fire station ("fire ocean," in Joshie's parla...