Today, I found your picture in some stuff I was moving to the attic. A shiver immediately worked its way through me, starting first in the middle of my heaving chest and moving outward, through all my extremities. The picture was that one of you and me at one of your formal date parties. You, as always, looked beautiful in your gleaming dress and exquisite countenance. I, as I generally was at that time, looked content in a way that could be seen from the deepest part of my being. Also today, I saw “The Pink Panther.”
The over-the-top silliness of the movie only functioned to further stir my memories of the happy, silly times we used to have: debaucherously arguing over whether or not someone was a lesbian right in front of them, drinking Brother’s completely out of Gin on those $3 G & T nights then screaming at strangers until 4 in the morning, and of course that time your friend slapped me right across the fucking mouth and then we spent the night in the park, unable to find our way home until the break of morn over the softly moonlit sky. As such, the movie left me forlorn and wanting for many things – one of which includes at least a consistent French accent for Steve Martin and Kevin Kline. It would have been nice if they had both the same accent and kept it throughout the entire film. But, alas, they did not, much as you did not keep me, a young man in the prime of his life, seeking only to make his lover happy.
I was also dismayed at the lack of Edwards-esque subtleties displayed in the direction of the film. It was as if they reached inside his very essence and ripped his still-beating heart out of his torso and tossed it aside for what they perceived to be “greener” and, perhaps, more broadly sillier pastures. I, for one, never saw this idea coming, and when I realized what was happening, I felt a load as heavy as stone and a bone-chilling cold come onto my ever-burdened shoulders. I asked myself, “Why, God and Mr. Steve Martin, why?!?!” Sadly, they, like you, offered no response. I will try to avoid this movie for the rest of my life, for nothing will come close to the original, just as… ah, woe is me…
Rating: 4 out of 10 broken lovers