RASP by KEN ARMSTRONG
The Film began.
The titles gave us our first taste of the smoky, elusive score that I loved so well - no matter what Shiv thought. Piano first, then tenor sax, lazy, slow and seductive but always, not far behind, that insistent, nervy back beat warning us, telling us to watch out - there is more here than meets the eye.
"John Barry," whispered Shiv, "I hate him!"
Scene one:
"My god, it's hot!" breathes the lady on the screen as the sax fades into the wail of distant sirens, " 'Stepped out of the shower and started sweating again."
The man she is talking to turns from the window to grin at her distractedly as she climbs into her nurses uniform. He is Racine, the lawyer. The nurse is not relevant, we won't see her again.
The film seemed different from the last time I had seen it eleven years before. I suddenly realised what it was. Back then, Racine had been anonymous but nonetheless instantly recognisable as a dubious character. Since then, though, he had become infinitely more well-known. Now he was William Hurt - Movie star - and as such towed with him the baggage of the many memorable roles he had since played. A person seeing the film for the first time would now take a while to figure out the nature of Hurts' character.
I didn't let this worry me overly. The mood was as I remembered, the atmosphere still intact. The movie was going to be just as good this time around as_
Latecomers.
A guy, well built, wearing a black leather jacket, a gangly blonde girl in tow. They fell up the stairs fooling with each other and giggling selfishly. The usher jumped from his perch to quieten them.
"Tennn-shun!" the big guy bawled, at the top of his voice, and then, "Jesus Corr-aye-est, is it dark in here or is it me?"
A palpable swell of hostility coursed instantly through the entire auditorium. These were good people, all they wanted was to enjoy this fine film in peace. They did not deserve this West End Saturday Night trash.
"Two of your best seats for my lady and I, scout," the noisy one boomed, "And be quick about it!"
The usher tried his best. "The feature has already started," he hinted coolly but the guy was ready for him.
"Good job too! Less of this shit for me to sit through," he marched past the usher, "C'mon, babe, let's sit up here."
Four seats in from the aisle was where we had sat. Why did we do it? We could have just taken the aisle seats like normal people. The quest for the perfect stereo position perhaps. Didn't matter now, the mouthpiece and his girl had collapsed into the two seats right next to us, her closest to me. Ignore them, I advised myself, give your attention back to the film, they'll probably shut up once they settle.
On screen, Racine and Mattie were about to meet for the first time. The fire was beginning to burn. The band played 'I saw you last night and got that old feeling' while Hurt pursued Kathleen Turner through the summer heat. I relaxed again, forgetting the interruption.
"Hey," brayed the big guy, "What's this crap all about anyway?"
Somebody behind 'ssshh'ed angrily but it only served as encouragement to him. He twisted full round in his seat and stared out into the gloom behind.
"Shush me one more time, scout. I'll come back there and shush you."
Then he turned jubilant back to the girl beside him, punched
her shoulder and said, "Where's my sweeties?"
Sweeties!?
No!
Anything but sweeties, please.
The blonde rummaged in her coat pocket and fished out a virgin bag of gold wrapped chewy caramels. The brute ripped them out of her grip_
"Yes, sweeties!"
and proceeded to tear the plastic limb from limb. The bag was gunfire in the still of the auditorium, it went_
Rasp.
For many people it is a certain smell which trigger vivid memories; flowers, bus stations, drains.
For me it is a sound.
That sound.
Rasp.
"Are you all right?" whispered Shiv anxiously
Fine. Except for that sound, dragging me back.
Rasp.
"Hey!"
Rasp.
"I said are you okay?"
Shiv was now also torn out of the movie and was worried
about me. She knew how I got.
"I just wish he'd...stop. Y'know?"
"I know. Just try to watch the movie, it's good."
I tried to watch the movie - I really did - but that bag went_
Rasp.
and back I went...
© Ken Armstrong 1996