Autonomous Straight

"You're going to have to accept the fact that sometimes we can't save everyone." Shemar Moore, toffee muscle

We never see Bobby Goren romantically involved with a woman, only the implication of prospective involvement. Forget Nicole Wallace (sheesh); forget the occasional utilization of Eames as the faux lover despite its dual implausibility-- dual because they often play act couple for the sake of solving the case, but by the end of season six certain insinuations goad Bobby into aggression-- his dying mother, his brother whom he loses to murder, the denouement with the brass busted shrink (again, sheesh), no, the more subtle interstice is with the blond foil with the attachment disorder, or his flirtation with the brunette who had a summer girl crush on the Russian mob girl killed by the cross dresser who killed his mama out of natal jealousy.

I know exactly zero about D'onofrio's ballet with metal affect, but he did not get Goren's stressor imbalances out of method acting, and the beginning of the end of Vincent's deconstruction of his best known character is quite interesting when juxtaposed against the dying Scheider. Even with a multiple myeloma, Roy is the consummate ladies man pitted up against a suffering buffoon whose analytical abilities aren't enough to keep him together anymore. The deconstruction of the super human predator/prey motif is as superlative as it has always been with the use of psychopathy as entertainment, but this is very much an insider's industry script, a homage to Schneider the super cool against Spielberg's super monster. And should Steven feel guilty for the frightening decline of our monster fish? I think about how much fear orcas and sharks inspire real terror within. There is a bucket to do, eh? Go to Seaworld, drive to the edge of the sea tiger's liquid prison. Voila, spastic is an abstract seal to stun into edible submission.

But the intangible fascination lies in the fact that Schneider has aged, his eyes muddied, his neckline in rivulets, and he is still the Schneider who could sexually satisfy, could be for me the alpha coitus of the century, while D'onofrio has to give mea culpas to tattles that his weight gain in season seven was due to medication. 

Different cultures have different values when it comes to physical vanity-- and I wonder, actually, if this is the real problem with the nature of being human. We conceive perfection, dignity, metaphysical harmony, unable to reconcile this entirely with a strictly biological, material narrative, chemically manipulating pain and suffering, altering and sometimes torturing the female shape. Demi Moore's fortune spent on plastic surgery isn't quite enough to fool the close observer that she is now preserved as opposed to attractive. But Liz Taylor was forever Cleopatra. She just had that goddess aura straight through to cessation. 

I have my own vanity, but it never laid in the attempt to compete with an ambulatory woman's considerable advantages. Perhaps a more ruthless humility would have served my old age.