The Movies That Made Me

Vol. 1: West Side Story

NOTE: I haven’t been writing much (“at all”) lately.  This is mostly (“entirely”) because I haven’t been able to think of anything I feel like writing about.  So, instead of regularly trying to plumb my psyche for interesting tidbits, I’ve come up with the brilliant (“lazy”) idea of a series in which I list movies that “loom large in my legend.”¹

First up: West Side Story

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I was only six years old when West Side Story movie came out.  And although I was born and raised in Michigan, I could swear I actually saw it for the first time in New York, where my father is from.  While I can’t say exactly what my immediate reaction was after that first viewing, I do know that my older brother, Doug, went absolutely apeshit for it.  Back in Michigan he went to see it several more times, memorized large swaths of dialogue, and then somehow managed to get his elementary school to allow him to produce, direct and star in a version of it for his 6^th grade class.  We’re talking school assembly in the gymnasium with all grades present.  That’s how apeshit he went.  And since I idolized my brother, I did my best imitation of apeshit… I willingly sat with him during all those repeat screenings.

But my affection for that movie wasn’t all due to big-brother idolatry.  I had very personal reasons for wanting to see it again, and again.  His name was Riff.  Or, rather, the actor who played Riff.  Russ Tamblyn.  I couldn’t tell you what it was specifically about him that got my heart pounding, but from the moment he looked up at Tony and said, “Look, I've never asked the time of day from a clock but I'm asking you, come to the dance tonight,” I was lost.  He backflipped right into my heart.  And if you know anything about Russ Tamblyn, you know that cat can leap!

My romantic fantasy life became all about Russ Tamblyn.  My grandmother had a coffee table book full of photos from movies dating from the first talkies.  It was cleverly called “The Talkies.”  I looked Russ up in the index and memorized every page where he appeared.  I learned the names of every movie he’d been in; The Boy With Green Hair, Father of the Bride, Gun Crazy, Tom Thumb, High School Confidential, and, of course Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, to name a few.  And, since cable TV and then the Internet wouldn’t be around for a few more decades to make my search easier, I made a point of scouring the TV Guide every week to see if the local classic movie programs – Bill Kenney At The Movies, and Rita Bell’s Prize Movie – were airing them.  Once, when my family made a trip through the Detroit-Windsor Tunnel into Canada, I made them stop at Tamblyn Drugs to see if he was in there.  When an issue of 16 Magazine included fold-out poster of Russ, I put it on the wall above my bed.  (Unfortunately that tender memory is somewhat tarnished, as I was subsequently forced to endure endless teasing from my brothers when they caught me kissing it.)

With the help of my father, who figured out where to mail it, I sent my very first (and second to last²) fan letter.  I asked Russ how old he was, and told him he looked twenty-two.  I was on Cloud Ten the day I got this response:

Lest you think there soon came a time when I outgrew my childish obsession, make no mistake; for years, whenever I had a chance, I watched any and every Russ Tamblyn movie I could.  That includes War of the Gargantuas, and Satan’s Sadists!   In fact, my crush on Russ Tamblyn was a theme so often referenced by my family as I grew up, that when I graduated college and moved to Los Angeles, my father considered having a bumper sticker made for me that read “Russ Tamblyn Where Are You?” 

But even without the bumper sticker, one day not long after moving to Hollywood, I finally was able to realize my (to then) lifelong dream.  When Neil Young’s movie, Human Highway, opened in Westwood, I bought a ticket to the premiere.   I sat, craning my neck, watching as Russ entered the theater and took a seat in the second row of the VIP section. This, at long last, was my chance! I swallowed all timidity and I forced my way into the row closest to the section where the cast was sitting, stepping on many toes, and ignoring several scowling faces in the seats along the way.  Speaking over two rows of heads, I announced to him that I’d been his Number One Fan for my entire life.  He seemed charmed. Although I noticed a confused expression on recent Oscar winner Timothy Hutton’s face, who was sitting directly in front of Russ and probably thought I had been addressing him, he graciously passed my autograph book to Russ so he could sign it.

And that’s my West Side Story story.  In later years I also came to be blown away by the script, music, choreography, directing, dancing, cinematography, and art direction. I understand I am not alone in this opinion.

1. A hint at a possible future post for you movie buffs.

2. My second and last fan letter was to Robert Gordon, the screenwriter who wrote GalaxyQuest.  That cat can write funny shit!