James Marsden doesn't exist

As a word of explanation, this blog was originally intended to give updates on the life and times of a certain Jerome, but as the last post was in April and there's still not anything to tell on that front, I've decided (as per a suggestion by the Lovely Banana) to convert the blog to a more topics-based model. The semester is nigh complete and I have much to do, which means the time is ripe to begin this project.

A few nights ago I went with some friends to see Enchanted, the new Disney offering about a Disney princess sent into New York to charm a hardened divorce lawyer into believing in love again, all the while learning to be a modern woman who demands dates and conversation from her prince charming. By far the funniest character in the film, Prince Charming is played by the lovely and talented James Marsden, recognizable from X-Men and Superman Returns, and most recently as Corny Collins, the cheezier-than-life show host in Hairspray. Marsden is reminiscent of a older generation of actors, with classic good looks, capable as an actor, singer and dancer. Fifty years ago, that kind of triple threat would have won Marsden one of the top spots in Hollywood, but in 2007 he's thirty-four and has only had moderate success in Hollywood, and has not once been cast as a romantic lead. How can this be?

The answer is actually quite simple; about fifteen years ago, the powers that be decided that people like James Marsden: clean-cut, talented, handsome men, don't exist. They're in the same category as happy families with stay-at-home moms and well-behaved kids. The fifties made them up to keep us quiet and ashamed of our dysfunction so that they could suppress us more easily, and generally keep us from having any fun. Then, in the sixties, we found out about sex and marijuana, and threw off the oppression of the functional. Now we celebrate REAL people, not these plastic myths. Anyone who looks that good must be self-absorbed or worse, and if anyone tries to tell us otherwise we'll dismiss them as archaic and shallow.

This is why James Marsden has to play satires of himself. The only way he can get on screen is by playing 'that guy who doesn't really exist', like Prince Charming or Corny Collins. It's hard luck, being told you're not a real person, but Marsden seems like a guy who's willing to roll with the punches, prancing around in puffed sleeves if that's what'll get the job done.

In one sense, I feel we ought to commend Hollywood for really coming to terms with original sin at last. The Cleavers don't exist, and if anyone ever thought they did, those people will be relieved to hear that having problems isn't as out of the ordinary as they might have thought. One does wonder if the pendulum has swung a bit too far, though. When things like my family, or James Marsden, can't be believably portrayed in film anymore because they're not real?? What does that say?