Girl, I'm Just A Hamster For Your Love
Now Playing: The Stone Roses--"She Bangs The Drums"
I'd hardly consider myself "macho," but it's always entertaining and instructive to think about how easily jealous and immature I get in a romantic situation. The possessive instinct is always very strong, and I always find myself fighting it, especially when in a romantic relationship. I haven't been in one in six years, and nothing of that sort is even close to occurring, so I'm not sure why I've begun thinking about this sort of thing recently. It might be the random mental associations I've had from conversations with the sensible and intelligent females of my acquaintance (practically all of them, really). I recently had a long phone talk with my long-not-really-lost-but-just-out-of-touch-and-it-wasn't-really-anybody's-fault-the-out-of-touch-thing-that-is first ex-girlfriend Jessica, which was very enjoyable, and had a swell chat with my friend Maria after listening to the tail end of Jim Roll's show at the Old Town a couple of weeks ago. I suppose I think that I should be on my game and watch myself the next time I get into a relationship, thinking that perhaps I'll be "prepared" that time. I came close to ruining a relationship through jealousy (it petered out anyway, but I'd rather have that than screwing it up myself), and I terribly fear it happening again. And, of course, it could (yet again) be the movies I've been watching.

Bad Day At Black Rock (1954) and A History of Violence (2005) feature Spencer Tracy and Viggo Mortensen. Reluctant alpha males. Deceptively iconic rural settings in, respectively, inland California and Indiana. John Sturges and David Cronenberg directing. Black Rock has mysterious WW2 vet Spencer Tracy arriving in the title town and immediately running afoul of the small-town machismo that's caused this country so much damage and embarrassment over the years (especially the last six). Chief among his foes is Robert Ryan, the unreconstructed, unapologetic badass swingin' cock, whose dark secret has brought Tracy to Black Rock. Anne Francis, as Ryan's adoring admirer, unknowingly embodies just about every negative female stereotype cherished by "sensitive" guys from that moment on (attracted to bullies and money, etc.), lending the flick complications I doubt they were all too concerned about in the Fifties. Violence has Mortensen (no stranger, as in Lord of the Rings, to playing the strong, silent type) as an almost cartoonishly loving and stalwart huband and father, which makes sense, as Violence goes on to satirize the whole phenomenon. Mortensen, as kindly diner owner Tom Stall, may or may not be ruthless Philly mob enforcer Joey Cusack, facing down his wife (Maria Bello), alleged former adversary (Ed Harris), and alleged estranged brother (William Hurt), in a desperate quest to maintain a normal life. As with most Cronenberg movies I've seen, the ending isn't quite happy or conventional. Cronenberg is actually a director I respect far more than I like--I don't really share many of his obsessions or concerns, but I admire his commitment to exposing humanity's fascination with mental and physical mutilation (and then relentlessly displaying it, particularly the latter).