I'm wild again
Beguiled again
A simpering, whimpering child again
Bewitched, bothered and bewildered am I...
1164 Morning Glory Circle |
A shelter/suburb against the storm though Darrin, stressed to the point of perforated ulcers, rarely smiled. He was the 'square', neutered, non-threatening, shivering with tension. Samantha, protected from mortality, had an existential marriage at best.
Set in 1960s Westport,
Connecticut but looking a whole lot like Beach Boys southern California. You have a successful – if
not harried – ad executive and his blonde, button-nose wife. Lots of space.
Variety of high-performance North American cars in the driveway. Beautiful
lawn. Everything clean, protected, bright and very White. No
They were Peter Lawford-esque Swingers. Some booze, some magic, some love. Sports jackets and slacks. No drugs or disease. No funerals. Possibly no gravity. No sex. There was never a reference to the outside.
"Hi'ya neighbor" |
They were Peter Lawford-esque Swingers. Some booze, some magic, some love. Sports jackets and slacks. No drugs or disease. No funerals. Possibly no gravity. No sex. There was never a reference to the outside.
Bewitched. 1964-72. Eight seasons. A childlike world full of grown-ups behaving like neurotic children. Every night TV news told us about Vietnam — so who the hell needed grown-ups?
Sam getting mail at 1164 |
It’s still there. 1164 Morning Glory Circle. Half façade. Empty. Samantha and Darrin? Long gone baby gone.
Darrin, always a Mad Mad Man |
And even when 1164 Morning Glory Circle itself heaves to the
ground, choking under Warner's back-lot sand and pounded to dust by a million lost acolytes, it will still be
around, kind of.
Because Samantha knew all about nose candy. The magic was bleached in her eyes, her smiles, and in her hair.
1164—deceptive and alluring with no need of time or place, but like Tinkerbell, shows up when called, sprinkling pixie dust in your eyes.
1164—deceptive and alluring with no need of time or place, but like Tinkerbell, shows up when called, sprinkling pixie dust in your eyes.
"Hey, we know the score at 1164" |