Frankie and Johnny (1966)
“Several retakes were required, because Elvis' form fitting slacks were judged to be too revealing, but the cost of re-filming crowd scenes was considered to be too expensive, and so Elvis and his bulge were occasionally left intact.” Yes, I noticed. Elvis’s pants are very tight, in some — not all — of his scenes. As Noel Coward once remarked: “For God's sake, go and tell that young man to take that Rockingham tea service out of his tights!” Elvis’ bulge is not consistent; or let’s say when it is there — it is absolutely consistent, one can pretty clearly see everything, and that’s very pleasing. But in other scenes there is no bulge at all. After reading the IMDB notes above I understood why. It’s comforting to know that I didn’t imagine ‘that thing’ — there, resting gently beneath the thin material of his left pant leg. Let’s face it, ‘that thing’ was the problem. And I’m afraid to say (as I know this is heresy) that I think ‘that thing' — was more prodigious than his talent, or rather, ‘that thing’ WAS his talent. He is quite an adequate performer. But I like Garland or Jagger, performers who displayed an embarrassing, frightening emotional exhibitionism; Elvis does the opposite, holds himself back. But this, I think, is sexier. When he’s singing, his posture, his very demeanour, says: “I’m not actually going to ‘let loose,’ I’m just giving you a peek — everything I’m doing has quotations around it — I’m ‘singing,’ and ‘dancing’ and ‘emoting’ and I know that turns you on, but I won’t give my all, here, I’m saving that for later, afterwards, in the dressing room.” There’s something teasing and tantalising about his presence; and I don’t resent it, I think that’s what gives elderly matrons permission to love him to death. They wouldn’t watch a porn movie, they would deny any curiosity about what’s in those pants, but they know what he’s strutting, so they go on about his singing voice which (heresy I know) isn’t actually that fabulous. There’s nothing wrong with all this, really, it’s just Elvis’ particularly appeal, and it's attractive to both sexes. The men — like elderly matrons — would not wish to watch a porn movie with Elvis in it, but nevertheless enjoy imagining that women want them in the same way they do him. After all, Elvis is effortlessly sexy — he lets his cheekbones, hair and those fleshy, pouty, baby-fat lips do all the work (the Rockingham tea service in his pants is just an added bonus). Elvis gave America permission to enjoy black music, because he was the whitest boy who ever lived. And he did his duty, volunteered for the army — and came back alive, and cuter than ever. There was something wholesome about him; he was the straight Liberace, and you’ve got to love him for that. And Elvis was as black as America could handle at that particular time. Speaking of which, last night we watched historic race riots across the USA; and I think they are just what America needs right now. On the one hand this is television as historic as it gets, like O.J. Simpson’s unforgettable 1993 car chase in that Ford Bronco. (I saw that at a very gay party, in very gay San Francisco, with Daniel MacIvor, and I was dressed in a kind of sailor outfit. We were there to see a movie that I had created and he starred in. I remember Daniel saying something to the effect that viewing this car chase was an historic moment, one we would never forget. I am less conscious of such things, and that’s why I am making note of the present moment, now). These riots symbolize —or excuse me, simply are — the end of America. The cat is out of the bag, racism can’t hide under the couch, and the poor and disenfranchised just won’t take it anymore. But to imagine this has nothing to do with COVID-19 is naive. The people who are looting these buildings are also the people who have not been able to enter a store for last two months during the pandemic. They know very well that when this COVID-19 lifts and these stores eventually open (the big chains, the rest will die) that they will not be able to afford to buy anything, because the lock down has destroyed their livelihoods and hence their lives. And lo and behold, the looters are mask-less. No, they are not socially distancing, no. These are the poor, after all. For the ones who march so self-righteously, wearing masks are — many of them — white, respectable, and middle class, or black, respectable and middle-class. But the mask-less looters are the real victims of this pandemic, and they will be the victims of the depression which follows it, even though they are more liable to die of COVID-19 than the middle classes (who are just too busy baking pies and practicing meditation to die). They couldn’t care less about ‘putting others first,’ they just need to get their hands on that flat screen TV. You see, COVID-19 is a disease created by the middle classes, for the middle classes. The rich will ignore it, and the poor will succumb to it, but it is the middle classes who will proudly wear it as a banner — just as they wave their cellphones about in public places, performing loud annoying conversations about love (women) or big job deals (men). The horror of what happened to George Floyd is simultaneously unimaginable and imaginable in this mad, crumbling, 21st century America; and the middle class protesters speak to that. But the looters and rioters speak of something else. They say ‘We will not stay at home.’ This stirs an old coot like moi even more than the nether regions of Elvis, though Elvis was a man who had the courage to be a male sex object in a culture that was terrified of him. Call me old fashioned, but I must reserve my highest praise for those who dare.
