High life
A matter of money
Taki
In a typical Hollywood manner, the film loses it right away because of the casting. Now don't get me wrong. I'm no fan of Redford's, in fact he reminds me of the draft dodger because of the way he always has his mouth open, but still, I know of few floozies who would kick Robert out of bed. Woody Harrelson, I'm told, plays a man who hangs out in a bar in a television sit- com called Cheers. And judging by the pic- tures I saw of him — I have not seen the film — he looks the role. Which means Oemi's dilemma is already a lesser one. She's not exactly leaving Tyrone Power for Quasimodo, even for one night. In fact it's the other way around.
The critics have been kind to the film, although they've zeroed in on unacceptably capitalistic lines such as, 'Do you think you can buy people?' to which Robert Redford answers, 'that's a bit naive. I buy people all the time.' The reason I like the idea of the film is because it touches upon money, Power and sex, as serious subjects as, say, feminism, sexism, ageism, or politics for that matter, not to mention racism.
My spies tell me that in the film Redford turns on the charm at the end, not only buying her for the night, but also telling her at the end that he loves her. If I know Hol- lywood, he probably tells her that after hav- ing done the dirty deed. So likely in real life. Liberals and feminists have pointed out that although only a film, it neverthe- less treats Demi as the property of her hus- band — something I find quite normal but in fact Redford's ploy is masterly because by making an offer neither of the two can refuse, he drives a wedge between them. It's another version of the oldest Joke in the book. A man asks a woman to go to bed with him for a million, she says yes. Once upstairs he offers the standard one hundred. She refuses and asks him whether he thinks she's a whore. 'We've already established that,' answers the client, 'now it's only a matter of price.'
If I were a producer — perish the thought — I would have cast the picture the other way around, where the men are concerned. Or better yet, I'd make the hus- band ugly as sin but as smart as Lord Gowrie. And I'd have Redford play it straight. In other words, tell Demi that after the night is over not to bother or speak to him again. Now there's a moral dilemma. The only issue would be money and fidelity, and whether Demi is a floozy or not. But in these politically correct times, it would shock the feminists and I'd lose my shirt. Still, somebody ought to make a picture like that, and I'd help with the casting.
When Tina Onassis married the then Sunny Blandford, the present Duke of Marlborough, many in Greece criticised her choice. 'How could she many this English fellow after a great man like Onas- sis,' went the Greek chorus. Ditto, I'm sure, on the English side. 'He must need the moolah badly.' The fact that both were rich and well-connected excluded the fact that they might like each other, according to hoi-polloi.
Personally, if Ava Gardner, my ideal woman, was a tart, or a chamber maid, it would not make any difference. I'd make love to her, live with her, but wouldn't many her. It is elementary, my dear read- ers. There is nothing wrong with being attracted to a rich man, as long as that's not the only attraction. The trouble is we never know, but this has never bothered me. I sleep very well at night next to any- one willing to sleep with me. It's their problem, not mine.
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