Death by a Stapler

A few days ago, I had words with Swinton while on shift, about the Coen Brothers. It all started, when I was checking IMDb about Woody Allen’s new film, Wonder Wheel, worried because his new flick had been presented in Cannes as far back as I could remember, and this year, it wasn’t. “Could it be that he is just getting old, and doesn’t work with the same speed as before?” I mused, when Swinton saw the stills on the screen. “Ohmygod is that Justin Timberlake?” she exclaimed, horrified.

“Why, yes, yes it is”, I answered. “I kind of liked his performance in Inside Llewyn Davis, and, of course, the beard.”

“Yes, of course, the beard, not to mention the curly hair: James Franco, Woody Allen himself, Mark Ruffalo, the young Steven Spielberg, the young Sam Raimi –“

“Really? Yes. It’s true, I really am that predictable. Anyway, apart from the performances, I didn’t much care for the movie itself. I mean, the whole concept of me going to the movies to see a Coen Brothers film is a bit out there, since I tend to find their stuff, I don’t know, a bit too black with the humor.”

“What? I liked it, and I do love the Coen Brothers. Oh, except Burn After Reading. I was so waiting for it to end the whole time, and I am totally baffled by the fact that a lot of Coen Brothers fans consider it among their finest work.”

“I was forced to sit through the Big Lebowski, once, when I had just started dating M., since it’s one of his all-time favorites.”

“I love that film!”

“Weell.. I guess I kind of get why people like it, but for me, it felt kind of like reading the Lord of the Rings in my thirties, like, way after the fact, I mean if you didn’t read it in high school, I feel a part of the magic will be lost, because you are not in that magical age of becoming any more. Same with the Big Lebowski. I think it might have been a bigger deal, had I seen it in my twenties, when everyone else saw it, but I never did, so now my take on it was more that of an intellectual and anthropological curiosity than feeling like it spoke to me personally at all. I did, however, after seeing Fading Gigolo in the cinema, stumble upon Barton Fink at a flea market, and thinking John Turturro was the hottest man on earth, I went ahead and bought it. Still haven’t gotten to actually watching it, though.”

“Of course, John Turturro with the curly hair.”

After this, leaving Swinton shocked at the end of the counter, where the gossip hour usually was held, I had to tend to some customers. I kind of noticed, with my side vision, her picking up the staple gun and starting to attach a large poster on the wall. I heard the machine tilt, and her starting to pull the trigger repeatedly in thin air, sure she had run out of staples and maybe just taking out her frustration with me and my narrow-mindedness about the Coen Brothers on the gun, when all of a sudden, I felt something shoot half an inch past me, as I was finishing up a sale.

Because I am really Clint Eastwood, I never moved a muscle, or even flinched, and I don’t think the customers even noticed. The kabowing of the staple gun halted, however, and after the people left, I turned to the flushed, wide-eyed Swinton, who immediately said:

“Did you see what happened? Jesus Christ I almost shot you in the ass with the gun!”

“Yes I know!” I said, starting to laugh hard at her crazy expression. “I mean I know we sort of disagreed there, but to try and murder me with a stapler? You are such a violent person, Swinton!”

By this time, we were all laughing, she and I, and Weaver, who had witnessed the whole thing coming out of the kitchen. I had a mental image about when Tom Selleck gets shot in the rear end by a stray arrow, in the late Eighties comedy Her Alibi, while talking to a police inspector on the phone. The arrow is shot from across the yard by his love interest, played by Paulina Porizkova, whom Selleck also secretly suspects of murder, and the humor that ensues is pure Frank Drebin -quality merriment that gets me going every time, and that image got me laughing even harder. You just should have seen Swinton’s terrified look.

Her Alibi is one of those films that time forgot, but because of my father’s frequent visits to the Used Video Cassettes for Sale section at our local rental when I was a kid, I not only own the VCR version of this fine film, but love it with a child’s unquestioning and undiscriminating love, the same kind in my reservoir of love that I have lying about, reserved for Jessica Fletcher and It the TV-movie and Alan Alda’s Betsy’s Wedding and lord knows what else. But I guess in the end choosing Tom Selleck over the Coen Brothers does make me kind of a square. I know.

The whole rest of the day, I couldn’t even look at Swinton without reducing to giggles, and finally she had to just stay out of sight, so that the fine people of Tampere wouldn’t report me to the authorities on being bonkers on the job.

To whom it may concern, I want to make known and point out, that Swinton is one of the most tender-hearted and kindest people I know, she even has the softest speaking voice I have ever encountered, and I love her dearly. I also never really doubted for a second that she would ever try to off me with something so incredibly ineffectual, for any other purpose than for the comedy of it. Just kidding about the offing.