fireballs & tsunami

Since the JLM listed his favorite Halloween films (his list includes a cheap shot at ABBA, by the way) I would like to direct you to my recommended Halloween films, which I compiled a couple of years ago. I have not updated this list recently, but I would like to post it now since today is, you know, Halloween (in case you were wondering about all those women on Sixth Avenue wearing tassles and nothing else).

Steph and Jared threw a fantastic Halloween party this weekend. I demanded that all partygoers call me Nancy (as in Nancy Sinatra, although my knee-high boots, go-go accessories, and ’60s hairdo prompted more than one guest to tell me how much they liked my Nico costume). My boots were not made for dancing and running, clearly; my feet were tired by the end of the night. Photos soon, hopefully.

I am still amazed that I did not see one Napoleon Dynamite costume this year. It seems like it would be an easy enough get-up to assemble, but I think Just Like Heaven might have scared off many a costumed Jon Heder.

See photos of Emily‘s “Small Wonder” costume. I love it I love it I love it.

And finally, a sad note to end my Halloween post. Remember Max Cantor, the young, strapping actor who played Robbie, the sleazeball waiter in Dirty Dancing who romanced Baby’s sister? My coworker and I discovered today that not only is he deceased, but he died in the most curious way: He died of a heroin overdose after becaming an addict while writing an article on addicts for The Village Voice.

Even more bizarre, this article purports that the Harvard grad, first of all, was actually writing for the New York Press, not the Voice (as IMDb reports), and secondly, he was found dead with a hotshot of undiluted heroin in his arm, which was possibly administered by a junkie he was researching (scroll down on the page near the bottom for details of his death).

Who knew he was a writer? Who knew he was dead? In any event, I will think of him every time I watch this scene from Dirty Dancing:

Robbie: I didn’t spend all summer long toasting bagels just to bail out some little chick who probably balled every guy in the place.
[Baby is pouring water into glasses for him]
Robbie: A little precision please, Baby… Some people count and some people don’t.
[Brings out a copy of The Fountainhead from his pocket]
Robbie: Read it. I think it’s a book you’ll enjoy, but make sure you return it; I have notes in the margin.

Sigh.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, November 1st, 2005 at 1:04 am and is filed under Random. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.