As a kid — I’m talking 11, 12 years old — I used to grab my weekly allowance and lie to my parents about going to the museum downtown. Instead, I would go to the movies, because this was back in the good old days when kids could still sneak into R-rated movies. There was more than one downtown theatre in those days, and I always went in search of double or triple features, and sometimes the first flick was an older film. And you have to remember that back in the mid-seventies, things were different. Downtowns weren’t as cosmopolitan then. They were urban, and that was the audience the theatres targeted.
Don’t get me wrong, there was a lot of crap. In fact, most of the films were completely forgettable horror and action programmers that had no redeeming value, even to someone like myself who adores B-movies. More than once I walked out and ended up killing the day buried in comics at a used bookstore. But every once in a while, the first feature would be an older film, something that had been popular just a few years earlier. And this is where I fell in love with Bruce Lee, George Romero, Leatherface, Shaft, Superfly, and Coffy.
I had never even heard of Pam Grier before, but within five minutes she was added to my short list of those who reflect all that is ideal in womanhood — strong, smart, independent, sexy, womanly, a lady, a sense of humor — a list that to this days includes Raquel Welch and Angie Dickinson. Ten years later I would add a fourth and final name to that list, and a few years after that she actually married me.
Yes, Pam Grier is stunning to look at, but beautiful women are really a dime a dozen in Hollywood. What Grier really is is pure, 100%, undiluted movie star — and that is about as rare of a human species as you will ever find (especially today). Whether it was a small role in Andrew Davis’ “The Package” or her unforgettable turn as a junkie prostitute in “Fort Apache The Bronx,” you can’t take your eyes off her. And God bless Quentin Tarantino for seeing that, as well.
And you, my fellow conservatives should start with this. Because, believe it or not, these films reflect our values in many ways. They’re about justice, standing up for what’s right, the poison of drugs, the importance of the individual, and the questioning and fighting of authority. The power of these films helped to shape my values as a kid, and if you think about it, the themes aren’t all that different than those found in John Wayne’s movies — The Man is The Man is The Man after all. These films are also outstanding examples of crowd-pleasing entertainment and perfect time capsules of an era that might not have been better but was at least more colorful and interesting.
A couple of years ago at a screening to celebrate “Foxy,” her terrific autobiography, I met Grier and naturally made a starstruck fool of myself. But she signed my book and later that night I experienced “Foxy Brown” on the big screen again, but this time with Foxy herself sitting right there in the theatre. And now she’s following me on Twitter (like you wouldn’t tell the world).
So this might be my last post on Big Hollywood, because I can die now.
Man, I love the movies.
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