It’s midnight madness movies at 3 a.m. Hercules this time and as I watch the all too familiar scene that for years I thought was a female stunt double driving the chariot it occurs to me it’s not a woman but a man, a man in a wig. In fact as I focus I’m certain the features, the face is much too strong, that it is definitely a man’s face in charge of those runaway horses who brings the chariot to the edge of the cliff struggling not to plunge into the sea beneath as Hercules grabs an entire tree, roots and all with that mystical-spooky music playing implying he’s not like everyone else, and throws it in front of the charging beasts saving the damsel, the female actress, in distress. Of course it’s been her the whole time the close up tells us as she collapses into a graceful faint. I get that same sensation, that excitement-warmth I felt as a young girl watching Steve Reeves, when WOR-TV had Sunday movie marathons and Hercules, Hercules Unchained, Jason and the Argonauts, Sons of Hercules, et al would play again, again, and again. I could shut the television, have Sunday dinner, put it back on and possibly watch from where I’d left off because the movie was playing one more time. TV was free, granted there were commercial interruptions but for these things they were limited, and there was always excellent programming, movie marathons being one of my favorites. Nowadays we pay a fortune and there’s never anything good on, or we’re paying big money to watch that one station not included with a basic cable package.
I feel an espresso coming on right after this fit of sneezing stops. I’m dusting today, no two ways about it.