Sunday night I had occasion to watch the two first episodes of The Two Coreys the other night. Hey it was late, I was up…why not? I enjoyed their movies, mostly. And especially after the first season of The Surreal Life turned Feldman into the Man We Love to Hate (seriously, hating him made that show so much fun. Especially the recaps on Television Without Pity. I still giggle when I think of their deathless line, after they called Corey a “dicklicker”: “I apologize, dicklickers of the world. I didn’t mean to lump you in with Corey Feldman.” Which is totally appropriate as an apology.
So I had somewhat high hopes for The Two Coreys, especially since that best friend o mine in the States enjoyed the show and our tastes are pretty similar. (It’s her fault, for example, that I lost way too much sleep obsessively watching Nip/Tuck on DVD, although they’ve started showing the LA episodes out here now and I am NOT impressed.)
What I liked most about the show–aside from actually thinking Corey Haim came off as being more amusing and cool than I had expected (although apparently he gets pretty dickish himself as the show goes on) was the relationship between Feldman and his wife. Were ever two people more destined to be together? It was like watching amoebas who were irresistably, chemically drawn to each other, in the soulless, totally unself-aware, totally self-absorbed way of amoebas. Two halves of the same irritating, blind whole.
I don’t actually think we need waterboarding. All we need to do to get info from terrorism suspects is lock them in a house with the Feldmans for a few hours, while they prattle on about things that don’t matter to anyone but themselves and then congratulate each other on how caring and wonderful they are, with a side helping of the most awkward physical affection I have ever seen in my life. Seriously, y’all, my brother and I could kiss with more convincing passion than these two. (Um, not that we would ever want to. It was just an example.) It looked like how babies kiss–just mashing their squishy lips together without moving, and from really awkward angles, too. I kept expecting them to pull away from each other and have drool running down their chins. Just having to see that up close would surely be worth some important information, right?
But the point of the post is…it’s fascinating, really, to see that in this big huge world, Corey and Susie Feldman managed to find each other–probably the only two people on the planet who are as irritating and pretentious as each other.
It made me think of how we show, in our books (or how I try to show, anyway) why characters are together and why they should be together. How that spark of familiarity ignites. How out MC might be dating someone, but he’s not the one for her, and very subtly the reader knows it. Maybe he doesn’t wholly accept her as she is. Maybe they clearly disagree on some fundamental issues. Maybe they simply don’t really understand each other, deep down. They might like each other well enough, but they don’t really know each other, not the way they should.
What do you think? About any of this?