Last Action Hero

It is a fine line between spoof, fantasy, and authenticity when Bruce Willis dons this particular American archetype. Even in his work for M Night Shyamalan, which was exceptional, seeking out and attempting to pinpoint the Willis cornerstone is not an easy task. His comic ablations have sharp edges, while his dogged trots, swaggering in valor, carry an undercurrent of the topsy turvey, quite different from Bale's globular alienation, which nearly thuds, like the way a thick glass bauble strikes a linoleum floor. Wherever you'd like to trace its roots, (radio?, noir?, the gunfighter?) the action hero illustrates that Protestants are not so far removed from the iconic indoctrination of the Catholic sensibility they rejected in the 15th century. I am not quite definitive on how it injected itself into my bloodstream, projected into my mind, like Mary's grandiose and submissive humility before the divine, it molded into my erotic needs, my emotional attachments, the way I handled intimacy with my female friends, those that mattered, and probably will never share again, certainly not with disabled women. Is this unfortunate? I feel guilty about pushing the younger Louise away, I do, but aside from authorial distance, I feared corrupting her, or hurting her, the pain of Linda's image hovering in the channels of my injured psyche. It is difficult to clear away the scars and look dispassionately at my personal loyalty toward this woman, why it mattered, why at one time I would have sacrificed and subordinated my own ambition for Linda's success. I never saw this as homoerotic; that was her fault, and mine, due to my need to confide, which Anthony LaPaglia dissects so succinctly in Bulletproof Heart, worth viewing for his lead performance alone. I nearly ended up dying over having my belief in her shattered, hurled as violently as Fanny hurls the bowl which haunts the great Jamesian novel. Don't ever believe in a leader like that, ever. What I saw in Linda wasn't exactly inaccurate. Liberty promotes her as an attractive centerpiece, a soothing counterpoint to the brawn and hyperinflation of a Cassie James Holdsworth.

Is it unfair? I suppose, but I hate Cassie and Jimmi, and would hate Erik, but Erik is spent, more dead than alive; much like my aunt's relation to her mother, Jimmi would defy hell itself to see Erik's humanity in Erik's carcass. But hating Linda is another matter. She is a tragedy in some ways; hate is too easy; the moral in payback, that is the treacherous terrain. Much as we see in a public, cosmetic fool like Todd Akins, self-preservation is ferocious. I know Ruth Marcus will not mind the artful stealing. She is the established fourth estate. I hang with very spacious bylines. Welcome to @BKAttorneyNJ. I will take all the lawyers in my contentious universe that I can keep in orbit. Am I fearful? A little too obsessive, perhaps?