How the hell do I know...?

April 11th – I guess in many ways I’m as predictable as a clock. The things I enjoy most in life are the same as most folk and are things that I never tire of. Just ask the gang who work in Café’ Neros; I walk across the road and they’re already getting the medium latte, four sugars on the go. I did tinker with the idea of walking in there one day and saying;

“No. What did you do that for? I want a skinny Americana with warm milk…”

but I don’t think I could stand the look of disappointment on their faces if I did. There are certain things that cause the majority of us to drop into automatic pilot in much the same way. Small babies in arms widen the eyes; boxing matches cause the watcher to dodge the punches; genuine compliments redden the cheeks; the sight of great food makes us salivate; muddy white dogs make us want to paint like Monet… OK, I made that last one up, but all of us are predictable in some ways. But this predictability also leads to deep, deep confusion when I’m faced with the conflicting female images we’re presented with each and every day.

I’m a puzzled chap. When I watch the film, Grease (now there’s a bold statement) you tell me what’s wrong with the character of Sandy in the beginning of the film? I thought she was lovely; and why does she have to dress and act like a cigarette-smoking hooker at the end of the film in order to be taken seriously and get her man? What was wrong with her in the first place…? Was it because Danny couldn't afford to look uncool to the gang by going out with just an ordinary girl and, if so, what does this say about him…and, more to the point, Kennickie? Why does Rizzo not have to be pregnant in order for her to get her love, Kennickie, to stay with her? Why would you want to be saddled with an arse like Kennickie in the first place? A guy who’s willing to drop you if you become pregnant…by him…? For me it fills out all the tick-boxes for female stereotyping that, so I’m led to believe, women rail against.

I gather from the silence that I've completely misread the movie… I have, haven’t I? Well, I never said I was anything else but predictably confused, did I? Is it because I’m so conditioned by repetitive press and ad-copy that I now fail to differentiate between lady and hooker? If so, why? It would seem my conditioning is complete. You see, this is the same stereotype, dress like a hooker to get taken seriously and get your man, which Cher uses in the video Dead Ringer for Love and for me, I get. Not that I don’t find a leather-clad Sandy unattractive; not at all. It’s just the story thread in Grease that rankles a bit is all, whereas the video for Dead Ringer… has no a pretension to be about anything else but carnality. Grease confuses lust with love whereas Dead Ringer… is all about…well, shaggin’ really…Yup, I know, I need to get out more, right, point taken. For those of you that know me, this’ll give you some idea of why I seem to be ‘away with the fairies’ most of the time; my head works like this all the time.

What it was, you see, was that on this day in 1988, Cher won her Best Actress Oscar for her role in the film, Moonstruck and I sort of compared the two persona; Dead Ringer Girl, out for a shag and seemingly so desperate that she’s willing forge a union with Meatloaf, and Loretta Castorini, the confused daughter in Moonstruck who's sweet, sensible and yet looking for a love that's only found in novels… (Cher really is excellent in the movie although, for me, the mother – Olympia Dukakis – steals the show).

So, we have these two characters that Cher plays and it just occurred, it’s no wonder blokes like me are confused. I’d prefer to spend my life with Ms. Castorini and kindly, thoughtful Sandy and yet what I’m peddled by press and TV is Dead Ringer Girl and a slinky, leather-clad Sandy… Confused? You will be after the next episode of…