…on the cover of a magazine. (Heh. Now you’ve got that song in your head too.)

I’m in One Of My Phases lately (Which are probably more aptly described as periodic obsessions — or temporary madnesses), and that means that in my apartment lately, it’s all 1930’s movies, all the time. This week there’s a focus on Jean Harlow, who is my new favorite. I’m not sure what took me so long in getting around to her — she’s precious.

I also, from time to time, get upset about things in a manner completely out of proportion to their actual importance to the world in general or my life in particular: the stupid design chosen for the California quarter; Bill Murray losing the Best Actor Oscar; the misuse in popular culture of the word “Irony…” These kinds of things throw me into a state which I will hereafter call “One Of My Turns” (Which I mean in a Pink-Floydian sense). The point of this introductory disclaimer is that it’s just no use getting irritated with me, or arguing the actual importance of whatever — I simply don’t care. What follows is one of these instances.

Last night I watched Dinner at Eight, which had “Harlow: The Blonde Bombshell” as a special feature. The actual documentary was as well made as you would expect from Turner Classic Movies, and was pretty exhaustive in its exploration of Harlow’s life. (There was a glaring error though: Saratoga was referred to as her “fourth pairing with Clark Gable.” It was the sixth. But I quibble…)

What was constantly irritating throughout however, was Sharon Stone as the hostess. I generally like Stone — I think she means well most of the time, even when taking herself much too seriously — but in this, she was given far, far too much screen time… And too much room to emote as though this was all about her. But specifically…

You know how in documentaries like this, they often have a chair — one of those chairs used (at least in olden-days) on movie sets — emblazoned with the name of the star being discussed? One of these will usually be used as a backdrop, or piece of the set, and the host will sometimes stand near it and gesture to it… It’s clever, and it can be poignant to see the empty chair. That’s the point though — the chair is always empty, in reverence to the absent, lost luminary.

You may see where I’m going with this… Sharon Stone was, repeatedly, sitting in the chair. Every time it was shown, actually, she was sitting in it. “Miss Jean Harlow” partially obscured by Stone’s over-slung arm. The point of labeling a chair to begin with is so that no one else will sit in it — which no one would have done if Harlow were alive, right? This is like: “Well, as long as you’re not using it, I’m gonna rest my tired bones…” It’s tacky. I mean — It’s not like someone sitting in Elijah’s place at Passover, but… It’s still in poor taste.

Because this was made in 1993 — in the wake of Basic Instinct and Sharon Stone’s sudden stardom — are we to infer that she’s metaphorically taken the place left by Harlow’s absence? The very idea is laughable. Icky. Badly done. Boo Turner Classic Movies… BOO!