I don’t have much to say about the Blake Lively and Leo DiCaprio pairing. It bores me. Who hasn’t seen a guy in his 30s date young women in their early twenties with blonde hair? That sort of thing may actually be the bane of my existence. Anyway, whatever, all those icky feelings aside, this pairing is pretty predictable. Statistically speaking, some of us have to have crushes on movie stars, musicians, bald film directors, entertainment CEOs, whatever, and grow up to actualize those dreams. Or dye our hair.
When I was 12 years old I had a mild to moderate case of a crush on Leo. My BFF, a scrappy mean Taurus, was in love with him. She was also in love with playing “Truly Madly Deeply” by Savage Garden on repeat on her CD player, despite my protests that one can only hear that song so many times. Anyway, we decided to rent as many Leo movies as we could. We made popcorn. We drank her mother’s endless supply of Coca-Cola products. And we proceeded to watch the usual: What’s Eating Gilbert Grape?, Romeo and Juliet, and, of course, The Basketball Diaries.
The problem with many tween girls, no matter how mature they are (which I won’t claim to be), is that they can’t necessarily handle learning what a chickenhawk is by witnessing acts performed between an older gent and a young Leo in a bathroom stall in the film.
Needless to say, we turned the film off.
Thirteen years later, as a former graduate student who became interested in Jim Carroll, I bought the book at BookCourt in Brooklyn for two dollars in the bargain section:
The tag line (about the movie from the book) reads “The hot new movie about growing up hip on New York’s Mean Streets from New Line Cinema.”
For youngsters out there, may your coming-of-age feature tons of movie star crushes and absolutely no chickenhawks. And I’m sorry to say this, but don’t let it be hip. Hip can’t happen when you’re fifteen. You should be uncool because then when you grow up, you can be Lady GaGa. Or one of her personal assistants.