About the Blog..

My blog title, Ossessione, American Style, is taken from a movie by Count Luchino Visconti, who borrowed the plot of his astonishing debut film, Ossessione, from James M. Cain's novel, The Postman Always Rings Twice. Unfortunately, Visconti never paid for the rights and his film was not shown in the U.S. until many years after its release. The star of the movie, Massimo Girotti, would be People's "Sexiest Man Alive" many years running had the zine been around at the time. We first see him as a truck driver in a filthy sleeveless athletic undershirt, another of my obsessions: remember Paul Newman in an a-shirt (e.g. Hud or Cool Hand Luke)? Nowadays, they cheapen this garment who confuse it with something tank troops wore in World War I. The a-shirt is an undershirt, usually with thin bands over the shoulders; a tank top is a shirt without sleeves, akin to a "muscle shirt," only with wider bands over the shoulders. But, I digress....)

The purpose of this photo/comment column is to present a record of my obsessions. These are wide-ranging and diverse. This blog is not intended to be pornographic. The only pornography today is in politics.

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Two or Three Things I Know About Devon Sawa

Having once been a celebrity biographer doing hack work without a hatchet, I think I can cut through a lot of nonsense with my built in bullshit meter.  I've read a bit of the press about Devon Sawa and come to the conclusion he is an elusive star who got his acting chops on material designed to show him off to the tween heartthrob fan magazine audiences and a few older males.  I saw him first in 1996, with Night of the Twisters, as a resourceful boy in aid of his family, albeit recklessly; or was it Wild America in '97, about the time one of his co-stars was having difficulty with his sexuality, making the movie as interesting now as it was then.

I went on to see everything he had done in the years prior; unfortunately, two are TV episode appearances and one TV movie that I missed.  And I have not yet known the curious experience of seeing him as "Casper on Screen" in the eponymous film about the friendly ghost.  Just too cloying for me.  (Which doesn't mean I won't look for it in the bargain bin.)  What consistently struck me about the films is that although Mr. Sawa was a British Columbian (Vancouver, once dubbed "the most satanic city in North America") who made good on American TV, he developed his craft even as he gravitated into film.  In that medium he gave some memorable performances culminating in Final Destination, a kind of watermark in a career in that he was on cusp of juvenile-adult roles. He apparently celebrated with some tattoos, a rite of passage for every rebellious boy in my time, and de rigueur for rock stars in these times. Hey, I even loved Idle Hands, which I whimsically renamed Idol Hands.

Wilde said that the worst calamity than can befall one is to be ignored.  Now that Perez Hilton is dissing Devon for drugs and weird sex (you'd think he secretly worshiped Aleister Crowley!) we know he is part of the Celebrity Grist Mill: that self-engorging monster we, the Gods, created, fashioning it of base metal, thereby allowing us to feel good about being ordinary. But this I know: If a hundredth of one percent of what tabloid twits like Miss Hilton say is true, I'd Pac Man my blog.

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