DRIVE IN SATURDAY
The Dauph’s favorite story about the 1979 film Alien goes like this. I’m watching it for the second time, sardined into an overflow dross palace on 42nd Street. The seat next to me is occupied by a total stranger, a brutal looking, jewelry-laden pimp packing a Saturday night special and part of a sword.
DRIVE IN SATURDAY
MOMMY DEAREST!
Edouard Dauphin
The Dauph’s favorite story about the 1979 film Alien goes like this. I’m watching it for the second time, sardined into an overflow dross palace on 42nd Street. The seat next to me is occupied by a total stranger, a brutal looking, jewelry-laden pimp packing a Saturday night special and part of a sword. When the alien makes its appearance, bursting out of actor John Hurt’s belly like a lobsterin-the-box, my seatmate shrivels down to the floor in terror, digging his fingernails frantically into my arm. When the sequence is over, he straightens up, looks at The Dauph apologetically and explains: “I just got scared, man.” This fellow is in white slavery, he buys and sells women for a living and because of an image on a bit of celluloid, he ‘‘just got scared, man." Yep, Alien was that kind of film.