Sometimes our psychic conflicts come unbidden. I am embarrassed to say it, but I have a Charlton Heston problem. As a kid, I loved Charlton Heston. Having sat before the big screen, I saw the Ten Commandments (the acting was so wooden it amazes me now that adults could have seen anything worthy in it. It confirms the speculations of sociologist, Theodore Roszak, that the 50s was the matrix from which the craziness of the 60s was spawned. The fifties really was a strange decade indeed!) and Ben-Hur so many times that the chiseled countenance and chiseled acting of Heston have been chiseled in my brain. He was an iconic figure bigger than life, and my early movie going has come back to haunt me.
Now that I am grown up, and Heston morphed into a far-right wing figure, whose politics represents everything anathema to me, I am left with two Charlton Hestons duking it out in my psyche.
Maybe it's just an exotic type of mourning.
Time will cure it, as it does - even if not completely - everything else.
Monday, April 07, 2008
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