In Praise of the Frown.

I watched a film tonight about a young cabaret dancer who discovers he’s got a serious heart condition and might die with or without a transplant. At first we see him dancing and doing all that sickly smiley stuff. Frankly, he looked like a pile of sugar coated donkey’s droppings. For the rest of the film he frowned a lot and looked much better.

When my wife started a model agency I had the job of doing the test shots for the applicants, and the first thing I said to all of them was ‘whatever you do, don’t smile.’ The better ones didn’t.

I’ve noticed, you see, that smiley people are generally nicer people, but the frowners are the more interesting. They have bad memories, livid scars, and reasons to be suspicious. They have a history, usually convoluted.

And I’m only saying this to vindicate to myself the fact that I began to frown early, and now I wouldn’t know how to be any other way except with children and animals.

The wind is singing a song about shipwrecks tonight.