Happy Warrior

I ‘M always impressed by the indestructibility of clichés. For example, I love that moment in the first Naked Gun picture when Leslie Nielsen and Priscilla Presley are together in front of a roaring fire, and Miss Presley stands up, reaches behind, and her dress, as they do in the movies, falls from her shoulders in one perfect shimmering drop. And then the great Nielsen stands up and reaches behind, and in an equally perfect instant his suit, shirt, and tie all drop from his shoulders. I can’t believe any director of a celluloid sex scene could do the frock drop for real after that, yet they do, all the time, in a thousand and one cheesy dramas.

Equally indestructible is the movies’ idea of the CIA. For years I’ve joked about those films in which some guy would be on the lam from the spooks, and he’d drive and drive and drive, switching vehicles, covering his tracks, but finally at some dusty one-stoplight town in the middle of Kansas he has no choice but to pull over and risk using the only payphone in the county-and, as soon as he does, somewhere in Langley a light comes on and a computer starts to whirr, and next thing you know the phone booth goes ka-boom, much to the shock of the old guy nursing his cup o’ joe in the diner across the street.

About the Author

Mark Steyn

Mark Steyn is an international bestselling author, a Top 41 recording artist, and a leading Canadian human-rights activist.

Featured Tags

Manage following

films

Hollywood

I ‘M always impressed by the indestructibility of clichés. For example, I love that moment in the first Naked Gun picture when Leslie Nielsen and Priscilla Presley are together in front of a roaring fire, and Miss Presley stands up, reaches behind, and her dress, as they do in the movies, falls from her shoulders in one perfect shimmering drop. And then the great Nielsen stands up and reaches behind, and in an equally perfect instant his suit, shirt, and tie all drop from his shoulders. I can’t believe any director of a celluloid sex scene could do the frock drop for real after that, yet they do, all the time, in a thousand and one cheesy dramas.

Equally indestructible is the movies’ idea of the CIA. For years I’ve joked about those films in which some guy would be on the lam from the spooks, and he’d drive and drive and drive, switching vehicles, covering his tracks, but finally at some dusty one-stoplight town in the middle of Kansas he has no choice but to pull over and risk using the only payphone in the county-and, as soon as he does, somewhere in Langley a light comes on and a computer starts to whirr, and next thing you know the phone booth goes ka-boom, much to the shock of the old guy nursing his cup o’ joe in the diner across the street.