An argument can be made that it’s not necessary in life to be thought of as “cool” and still have a pretty damn good life, especially when one considers just how subjective “cool” can be. I was one of those kids whose mother once said it wasn’t important. Of course, most young people who’ve heard that statement from an older loved one were likely being consoled because they had made the mistake of lamenting on their status for all to hear. No parent wants their child to feel like an outcast, so the usual remedy is to say, “I think you’re cool.”
Never really helped, did it, even if you realized as you got older that they were probably correct.
It might not be important to be “cool” in the overall sense of the word, but it’s imperative that at least someone thinks you might fall into that category.
I was a bit late coming to the movie True Romance. It might have premiered in September of 1993, but I didn’t catch it until the following year, my freshman year of college, until it was released on VHS. Honestly, I had never even heard of the film until one of my new college friends, who just happened to be cool, recommended it.
Freshman year of college is an interesting time, especially for those of us who’d grown up in a small town surrounded by the same people day after day and year after year. These people know you in all senses of the word. Pee your pants in kindergarten, it’s likely someone remembers it and will remind you of it your senior year. These people have seen you at your best and worst and your identity is solidly formed in their mind. If you were lucky enough to be considered one of the cool kids, or even cool adjacent like I was, you were able to coast through high school on that alone. But for those of us who went away to school, we soon learned that absolutely no one knew a damn thing about us.
For many entrepreneurial young people, that was likely seen as a good thing, a blank slate to build whichever identity they wanted. They could finally pierce their ears, dye their hair, or do something else to be the real person they’ve always wanted to be. It must feel so freeing.
I didn’t know what the fuck to do with myself. I had just spent four years of high school trying to come into my own and realizing after graduation that I didn’t know a damn thing about myself. I certainly liked music, especially the Seattle sound, because as I wrote about in an earlier post, discovering the music of Nirvana, Soundgarden, Alice and Chains, and Pearl Jam was the first time I’d actually felt cool. Senior year of high school I wore flannel and grew a goatee and for that I honestly felt a little special. But now I found myself, not in my tiny burgh of a hometown, but in the city of Boston, where in the fall of ‘94, approximately 40% of everyone I met was wearing flannel and had a goatee. And guess what, many of them liked the same music I did. To put it mildly, I certainly didn’t feel so special any more and because I’d chosen to purposely go to a school where none of my friends were going I was beginning to feel just a little alone.
My roommate John was nice enough but he certainly didn’t enjoy the same things I did. Our roommate relationship was more cordial than anything else, but I can give him the credit of introducing me to people who would eventually become my friends, namely Paul. Paul was an interesting dude. He was on the smaller side, approximately Seth Green like in stature, and played one hell of a guitar. The bastard had perfect pitch and could play any song within minutes of hearing it. He happened to love the same music I did, as well as some stuff I’d never heard of like The Pixies. He was also really into movies and had a VCR in his room (which sad to say was a big deal at the time) and introduced me to Akira, The Killer, and most importantly, True Romance.
I’m not sure if I’ve ever thanked him enough for this gift, especially since we haven’t spoken in over twenty years.
Directed by Tony Scott and written by an as-yet-to-be-famous Quentin Tarantino, True Romance tells the story of Clarence Worley, played by the ever wonderful Christian Slater, and the love of his life Alabama, played by the enchanting Patricia Arquette. When we first meet Clarence he probably looks like many other people we knew at that time. He dresses a bit funky with his hawaiian shirts (a look I sadly tried to pull off and failed) and an army jacket (a look I think I did manage to pull off) but he seems rather normal. We learn that he works at a comic book shop, a job you either think is freaking amazing (raises hand) or is something you’ve never even considered to be actual employment. It might not pay much, but he gets to spend his days lost in the world of Marvel comics and that works just fine for him. He likes his life.
I’m not sure if anyone would describe Clarence as cool, but I don’t think that would particularly bother him. He’s more than happy to spend his birthday alone at the movie theater steeped in the cinematic oeuvre of Sonny Chiba (a name I didn’t know until this movie) with plans to grab a piece of pie afterwards because he always likes to eat pie after a movie. Honestly, even now, I kinda dig his life. He didn’t do anything in his life to necessarily impress anyone else. He did what he wanted and seemingly enjoyed his days not wanting for much. However, his boss at the comic shop felt he was lacking a little in female companionship and arranged for a prostitute to meet him at the theater without Clarence’s knowledge.
What follows is the type of wonderful first dates that most romantic comedies can’t even comprehend. The “meet cute” involves Alabama, the hired date, spilling popcorn on Clarence and then striking up a conversation. They spend the night watching the movie, eating a piece of pie afterward, and Clarence introducing her to the comic shop. Before we know it they’re spending the night together and all seems right with the world. Funny how things can work out when a relationship is bought and paid for?
Much to her surprise, Alabama has developed feelings for Clarence and decides to tell him the whole story, which he accepts rather matter of factly. Before long she’s ready to get away from her pimp Drexl Spivey, who is played by a nearly unrecognizable, but amazing Gary Oldman, and Clarence, being the good man that he is, is going to help her do just that. Moments later, Clarence is a wanted man with a suitcase full of cocaine and the story just propels forward from that moment on.
**side note. During my sophomore year of college I somehow worked up the courage to ask out a girl who was way out of my league. She was impossibly cool so when we talked about our favorite actors on our first date I said Gary Oldman. While this might not have been the complete truth, he had been excellent in such films as Leon the Professional, Dracula, True Romance, and Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead. I specifically mentioned the latter because we met in a Shakespeare class. Luckily she hadn’t seen True Romance which made for a perfect segway into date #2. **
I believe an entire essay could be written about the relationship between Clarence and Alabama. In fact, I’m sure if I did a quick Google search I’d find more than a few. To me, it’s one of the sweetest movie relationships of all time and it’s an incredibly impressive feat that Scott and Tarantino managed to tell their story while throwing in gangsters, stoners, coked out movie producers and even the ghost of Elvis Presley. By this point, Tony Scott already had a solid career, having directed Top Gun, Revenge, and The Last Boy Scout, and he continues to put out solid work year after year, but the true star of the movie is the script from Tarantino. As I said earlier, when this came out he wasn’t QUENTIN TARANTINO, but he had written and directed his first film, Reservoir Dogs, as well as written the screenplays for this and Natural Born Killers (which will come up in future essays). And like many other film fans my age, we couldn’t get enough of him, and for me, this goes back to the nature of being “cool.”
Much like Clarence, Quentin Tarantino did not look cool. He was tall, gangly, and without sounding dismissive, looked like the guy who’d rent you videos at the independently owned video store. But he knew what he loved. He loved pop culture and kung fu films, and wasn’t afraid to sprinkle his movies with references that you may or may not have understood, and he didn’t care. If you “got it” then you “got it” but he wasn’t taking the time to explain. Watching his movies made you feel like you were discovering something that only a few people knew about and that came through with his characters.
There is nothing about Clarence that would make him stand out as a guy to be reckoned with. But he loves what he loves and because of that you can’t help but believe in him. When he tells his buddy Dick Ritchie (Michael Rapaport) to introduce him to his actor friends so he can unload a suitcase of coke, it almost sounds like a reasonable plan. And when he eventually meets a big time producer with a big time coke habit, you know he somehow is going to be able to make the deal. That is probably most evident when the middle man, Elliot Blitzer, played by 80s television staple Bronson Pinchot, is wired for sound by the FBI. Clarence threatens to shoot him in an elevator and the feds listening in, Tom Sizemore and Chris Penn, openly state their adoration of Clarence. Perhaps this is the “it” factor that movie producers are always looking for, but Clarence definitely has it.
We can learn from that.
I’m certainly not suggesting that we all murder pimps, steal their cocaine, and try to sell it, all while avoiding future Tony Soprano himself, James Gandolfini, but if you’re going to do something, anything at all, do it with the gusto and confidence that Clarence has. And it’s important to look at where his self-confidence comes from. As stated, it’s not just his love of Sonny Chiba and pie that keeps him going, it’s his ability to state exactly what he loves, why he loves it and why you should love them as well. Such honesty is what enables him to truly connect with Alabama, and if anyone has ever looked at you the way she looked at Clarence in the comic book store, you know exactly what I mean.
One of the things I love most about my fiance is that I can say “hey they’re doing a Mooby’s pop up store in Boston next week” and her reply is “let’s go.” Within minutes we’re planning out how we’re going to make that impulse thought a reality and a week later we find ourselves enjoying and sharing a moment that could’ve easily passed us by. Our sense of adventure might not be quite as dangerous as Alabama and Clarence, but we’re just as ready to embrace each other’s quirks and dive right in. We appreciate each other’s passions and do our best to promote them and it’s a lesson I wish I’d learned a long time, and many relationships ago.
Look for someone in this world who will pass you a note on a Beverly Ambassador Hotel napkin that simply says “You’re So Cool!” with a little heart added for endearment and then hold onto that person.
True Romance came into my life when I wasn’t ready for it. At the time I appreciated all the cool dialogue, that amazing sceen between Christopher Walken and Dennis Hopper, and the assortment of characters that came rolling though, especially Patricia Arquette who I’ve done an injustice to by barely mentioning. In all honesty, I’m not sure if there’s a movie out there with a more talented cast. Like many Tarantino films, it was easy to be dazzled by what was thrown up on screen, but at the time I wish I’d really taken a deeper dive into what was trying to be said underneath all that, to look beyond the cool exterior and find the heart underneath. I’m glad I can see that now and share it with you.
Because if you’re reading this right now, you’re so fucking cool.
