Eddie Valiant and Jessica Rabbit in Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988).
One of the things I learned from John Ashbery was to be myself, especially when it came to movies, the subject we talked about most, with poetry a distant second. He showed me that I could be a fanboy because I was one. He made it clear that I did not need to be embarrassed about my enthusiasms, which ran the gamut, from the campy science fiction and badly made horror films of Ed Wood to the low-angled, stationary camera of Yasujiro Ozu and Hong Kong noir films starring Chow Yun-fat. Though John was a shy man, and kept a lot to himself, he was not afraid to be silly, serious, and emotional about an artificial world that was to him more real than the world we lived in. John and I talked about movies, directors, actors and actresses, cameramen, everything having to do with film. He once sent me a VHS of Wood’s Orgy of the Dead (1965), starring strippers in a graveyard at night, and guaranteed it was in “pristine condition.” Another time, knowing I was interested in “yellowface” and all the non-Asian actors and actresses who played Asians in films, he gave me a book on the subject that had been sent to him by an academic press. When I was doing research on the silent film actress Anna May Wong, I met a man at a movie-memorabilia fair who published a monthly newsletter about minor Hollywood stars from the silent era. The inexpensively produced stapled publication consisted of short articles summarizing the subject’s career, where they were at the present moment (often in an assisted living facility), and their filmography. John was very happy that I got him a two-year subscription, which he later renewed, and quipped: “Do you think he will ever run out of material?” John couldn’t get too much of films. He was endlessly fascinated by those who lived in what his friend, Frank O’Hara, in his poem, “Ave Maria,” called “that glamorous country.” This essay is about the adventures that John and I had while watching and talking about movies and TV shows, and the different rabbit holes that I discovered and I scurried down.
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One night, John and I watched The Letter (1940), directed by William Wyler. Leslie Crosbie (played by Bette Davis) is married to Robert Crosbie (played by Herbert Marshall), a rubber-plantation owner whose extensive land holdings are just outside the city of Singapore.
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