Matinee Idol

I read something about this, somewhere.

Thinking it was Jonathan Miller,

Not sure.

 

Did you ever read a book,

Entranced by the protagonist,

Then go to the movie,

And feel, well, disappointed?

 

Mirrored image.

Tracing the territory of his face.

 

Not quite right.

Not right at all, actually.

Miscast, you think.

At first.

 

Etched furrows.

Hollowed plains.

Seen through those gauzy appraising eyes.

 

The actor is too old,

Or something.

Can’t put your finger on it, exactly.

 

Men can get by with all that.

Right?

 

What’s happening isn’t about putting

Pierce Brosnan in a Steve McQueen role.

No, it’s something else.

 

But how are we to see as seen?

 

We are entranced by the idea

Of that man in the book.

Not some pinned down image,

Or some actor we cast in that role.

It’s the very idea of him.

 

Try this.

Step out of the skin box,

look back at Him.

There.

 

Seeing that idea embodied is the problem.

Always too confined, too small,

Too actual.

Doesn’t matter who they cast.

 

Not the gravitational center,

Not larger than this so called life.

 

When you invest a character with all that,

You are bound to be disappointed when

He actually shows up.

 

Scuttle back.

Hunker down.

Your martini shot coming.

Soon enough.

 

Anyhow,

I just thought

That an interesting idea

To throw out.