Something Willed

Sure it doesn't hurt that Melanie Griffith is topless, back in the days prior to all the surgeries that suggest a pretty girl is like a parody, but that's not really what makes this minor moment magic in Jonathan Demme's wonderful Something Wild. This is the first time Griffith--or Lulu, as she calls herself at this moment in the film, complete with the Louise Brooks 'do--has her way with wanting-a-risk but in over his head Jeff Daniels. He's handcuffed to a bed, and she's astride him, having ripped her shirt open. And out of the depths of her dumped purse she also pulls a voodoo doll, which she picks up and shakes over him, letting out a little "wooo" in that little voice of hers that makes it clear this is all in fun, as if it could be anything else. Of course, later it will be something else, when Ray Liotta shows up and he's sort of not play-acting--heck his character is even named Ray--and he's the true scariness where we don't want to go, even with those blue blue eyes.

But for a moment, even the black magic is sexy. And how.

So instead of belaboring the point of 5 seconds of celluloid, I will save my thesis about how Something Wild is a gloss on Huizinga's Homo Ludens but with a truly hip soundtrack (the Feelies play the high school reunion band! and sing "I'm a Believer" years before Shrek! so they're pretending just like the Monkees pretended, and it's really goddam Neil Diamond!) for another day.