Skip to main content

A Letter to Angela (Michelle Pfeiffer)


The following post is part of the Reel Infatuation Blogathon, which is organized by the fine folks at Font and Frock, Silver Screenings, and A Small Press Life. It rounds up various bloggers enthusing about characters from film/TV/books that we have crushes on.


As you might imagine, many if not all of my top screen crushes are characters played by the White Gold Queen herself, Michelle Pfeiffer. I chose one for my contribution to the blogathon, and you can read about her below.

Finally, a big thanks to Paul at Pfeiffer Pfilms and Meg Movies, who alerted me to the blogathon. His blog is amazing, as are the three linked above. Please, check them out, follow them, and enjoy.

*****

Dear Angela,

I just want to give you a hug. Is that okay? Because you look like you need a hug. I know I certainly do. I think a hug could do us each some good.


At the start of Married to the Mob, you're stuck in a depressing life as a mafia wife, but it's clear from the very first moment we see you spin around in that salon chair that you are so over it. From that moment forward, we join you as you work like hell to leave that life behind and to discover the real you, just beneath the Long Island princess hair and makeup.


Whenever I watch the film, I inevitably imagine that I'm the Mike (Matthew Modine) to your Angela de Marco (Michelle Pfeiffer). I mean, my name is Mike, after all, and I like to think I'm as charmingly eccentric, too. Also like Mike, I fell for you because, at the heart of it all, you're absolutely adorable. The truly incredible part is, you don't even realize just how wonderful you are. You're a thoughtful, introspective, and introverted sweetheart surrounded by lunatics and criminals, yet you never let them dim your light. You're never malicious or vindictive. Instead, you're compassionate and kind.


You're all of these good things, but you're no doormat. Your spunky New Yawk hutzpah is beautiful to behold. You fiercely and fearlessly tell off mob boss Tony the Tiger (Dean Stockwell) and his crazy-jealous wife Connie (Mercedes Ruehl) repeatedly. You stand up for yourself against your goombah of a husband (Alec Baldwin), and  after he's iced you stand up to Tony. You dig deep and find the strength to survive. To protect your son, you fight for a better life. You're determination is beyond admirable.


Clearly, my infatuation with you, Angela, is sparked by how exquisitely Michelle Pfeiffer brings you to life. She hits all the right notes in the role in a memorably endearing performance. It's clear there's a lot of Michelle in you Angela, and vice versa. Obviously, my lifelong crush on Michelle has played a fairly significant role in my crush on you, and on Frankie and Susie and Selina and Diana and Elvira and—oh, well, you get my point. I have a feeling you're both okay with that.


I find myself revisiting Married to the Mob quite often, Angela. Um, is once a month too often? Nah, it's not nearly enough. When life is particularly cruel and draining, a night in with you never fails to lift my spirits. After the final credits roll, I feel like I can take on the world again, just like you do in the film. You're an inspirational character because you remind me that people like us—kind and compassionate introverts who are almost too sensitive for this world—are just fine the way we are. In fact, we're more than fine—we're perfect. We don't need to always be adjusting to the rest of the world; the rest of the world needs to adjust to us sometimes.


Sweet, spunky, adorable, determined, kind, resourceful, and loving Angela. You've always made it ridiculously easy for me to maintain this crush. That smile, so honest and true. Those soulful eyes, as big and blue as any ocean. Those curly ringlets, bouncing vibrantly atop your pretty head. As beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside, you're a crush that just won't quit, Angela. Thanks for being a constant in my life, for so long now.


What do you say we head over to that tiki lounge and celebrate the fact that even with everything life throws our way, we're still standing. So, cheers to elevators, and to you, Angela. Your journey of self-discovery reinforces what's often too easy to forget in this crazy thing we call life—we're gonna make, after all.

With love, always,
Your fellow survivor

Comments

  1. Ack! I entered a lengthy comment, but then it disappeared...?

    Ah well. I just wanted to thank you for joining the blogathon, and to tell you how much I enjoyed your tribute to Angela/Michelle Pfeiffer. I haven't seen this film before, but I get the feeling I'm missing out on something special! Thanks in advance for recommending. :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Argh, sorry about the comment problem! I'm so glad you put this blogathon together, and I'm excited to have discovered your blog, as well! I'll keep my eyes out for future blogathons you run, to see if I may be able to participate again.

      And obviously I wholeheartedly recommend seeing Married to the Mob! It's a lot of fun, plus an incredibly sweet film, too. Pfeiffer is magnificent as Angela.

      Delete
  2. Great "letter" about a wonderful movie.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, and it truly is a wonderful movie, isn’t it?

      Delete
  3. You used the word "endearing" for Angela, and I want to borrow it to describe your letter/tribute. I was quite touched as I read this entry, and I have a need to see this movie.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, that’s awfully kind of you to say. I’m very happy to know it resonated.

      Delete
  4. Pfabulous, I really wish I'd written this.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Thanks so much for participating in the blogathon. I haven't seen this flick since it came out (when I was in middle school, I believe). Your post really makes me want to revisit it. Thanks, again! (Really Mae of Font and Frock)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you! And thank you for stopping by to read my gushy letter to Angela and for your comment. I was so happy to participate in the blogathon. Thanks for organizing it!

      And give Married to the Mob another watch when you can - you won't be disappointed!

      Delete
  6. I really enjoyed this post. I've never seen this film, but always have enjoyed much of the actress's work, and think you capture so much that is elusive about her style, beauty, and warmth.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, I really appreciate that. Much of my writing about Pfeiffer's work is intended to hit at the core of what makes her so special. I don't know if I hit the mark often or not, but it's nice to see that maybe this time I did. Thanks again.

      Delete
  7. What a sweet and lovely post. Michelle is so great in this film. I'm glad to see that she is more active of late - such a wonderful actress.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you for stopping by to comment! It is so wonderful to have Pfeiffer back on our screens more regularly these days, isn't it?

      Delete
  8. What a great tribute. I love your paragraph about compassionate introverts. It is so true!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you! Introvert for life over here, so I'm glad you can relate!

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

All I Want For Christmas: Phoebe Cates's Monologue in Gremlins

Joe Dante's 1980s classic Gremlins will always be a subversive Christmas favorite. From Spike exploding in the microwave to Mrs. Daigle's "stairlift to hell", the movie is packed with deliciously transgressive moments that turn the holly jolly season right on its ear. None are more memorable, though, than Phoebe Cates delivering her legendary "worst thing that ever happened to me on Christmas" monologue. It's a jaw-dropping, tour-de-force moment, a truly horrific story that's also one of the most darkly comic moments in Christmas movie history. Cates really shines during this scene. There's no denying just how seminal that scene of hers in Fast Times at Ridgemont High was for a generation of young people, but her speech in Gremlins is equally important and a wonderful showcase for her serious and comedic acting skills.  Here's the speech, in its entirety. No Christmas season is complete without at least one viewing ...

Blowing in the Wind: Marilyn Monroe and That Iconic White Dress

This month marks sixty-five years since one of the most iconic moments in twentieth-century popular culture: Marilyn Monroe’s angelic white dress being blown sky high by wind rushing up from a subway grate beneath her feet in the film  The Seven Year Itch . Billy Wilder shot multiple takes, while Sam Shaw snapped photo after photo for what had to be the biggest publicity stunt ever staged at the time. Marilyn wore two pairs of underwear for the shot, yet, as noted in Lois Banner's critical biography Marilyn: The Passion and the Paradox  (2012), "a dark blotch of pubic hair" remained visible to the 100 male photographers and over 1,500 male spectators, all of whom crowded eagerly around the set to gawk and drool.  Due to strict 1950s movie censorship laws, photos had to be doctored to white out the offending blotch, but those in attendance saw it, over and over, shot after shot. Marilyn's husband at the time, the extremely old fashioned Joe DiMaggio, stormed off th...

It Came From the '90s: Kelly Bundy and the Alternative Family Ideal

This series looks back at the 1990s and its influence on the generation of people who came of age during the decade. Very few television series in the 1990s were as polarizing as Married...with Children . People either loved it or they loathed it. TV critics and good upstanding Catholic families like mine fell into the latter category. Soon after it debuted during my first year of junior high in 1987 (not quite the '90s, but on the brink), my parents made it clear that we would not be watching. I believe the words they used were "vulgar," "unfunny," and, one of their perennial favorites, "risque." Of course, this meant it immediately took on a prurient appeal for me. Parents can never win, honestly. Kelly Bundy—the talented Christina Applegate, who never gets enough credit for elevating the blonde airhead trope into an art form—only further piqued my interest. She was like the girls in school with the absurdly voluminous hair and ridiculously sh...

"That girl looks just like Pat Benatar"

Linda, that girl looks just like Pat Benatar. I know. Wait, there are three girls here at Ridgemont who have cultivated the Pat Benatar look. I was just a kid when Fast Times at Ridgemont High opened in 1982. Still though, even at the tender young age of seven, I knew who Pat Benatar was, because a.) her music was all over the radio and even then I recognized the utter awesomeness of her vocal talent in songs like "Hit Me With Your Best Shot", and b.) some of the older girls around town were obviously cribbing their looks—clothes, hair, makeup, strut—from Benatar's own style. Benatar was ubiquitous. So, when I see or hear vintage-era Benatar now, I think of Fast Times , but mostly I remember that ubiquity—of both the performer and her legion of young imitators. I know it's not true, but when I recollect those years I swear every older girl looked like either Benatar, Juice Newton, or Joan Jett. It's easy to forget, years later, that...

Misspent Youth: Joanne Whalley

Looking back at the pop culture mainstays of this Gen-Xer's gloriously misspent youth. One of the most famous and oft-quoted Seinfeld scenes involves Bobka and Jerry's discovery of the existence of Cinnamon Bobka. After Elaine scoffs at the notion of such a thing, even calling it a "lesser Bobka," Jerry unleashes one of the great defenses of a freshly ground spice ever delivered: People love cinnamon. It should be on tables at restaurants along with salt and pepper. Anytime anyone says, "Oh This is so good. What's in it?" The answer invariably comes back, Cinnamon. Cinnamon. Again and again.  Joanne Whalley is like Cinnamon. Yes, I just compulsively double-checked my DVD copy and it's the unrated version, thank you very much. Let me explain. You see, during the formative years of my misspent youth, if I stumbled on a movie featuring the doe-eyed, petite, beautiful English actress, invariably I'd feel like Jerry does about Cin...

Misspent Youth: Randi Brooks

Looking back at the pop culture mainstays of this Gen-Xer's gloriously misspent youth. ***** A note on the series and this site: This might be the final post in the "Misspent Youth" series - at least here. Maybe it'll eventually move with me. Oh, right, I buried the lede: I've moved, and would love for you to come visit me at my new site, The Starfire Lounge ! Moving forward, this site will likely cease to be updated, but will remain around for posterity and your continued reading pleasure. I have a few more things to post here over the coming days or weeks as a sort of "everything must go" send-off to the old girl. I also plan to write a final farewell post to my main online home for the last five years. Stay tuned and, as always, thanks for reading. ***** It's no surprise that the talented but now mostly forgotten Randi Brooks would make an appearance in the Misspent Youth series. She may not be a household name, but her resume...

Margot Kidder and the Childhood Crush That Will Never Die

"I dream about sex, flying, and being chased by Nazis." — Margot Kidder,  Rolling Stone , "The Education of Margot Kidder", 1981 ***** File that quote under, "Reasons why I love Margot Kidder." Last month, Margot hopped a one-way flight with old pal Chris Reeve off into the stars and beyond, where they could reenact their iconic moment from  Superman  (1978), for all eternity. I wrote a little about Margot, here and here , trying to explain why this particular actress meant so much to me as a kid growing up in the 1980s. I thought that would be enough. It wasn't.* Those posts were my fumbling attempts to sort out just how large an impact Margot had on my young life, and, to my present-day surprise, how much she still means to me now. Before news of her death, I hadn't thought of her in ages. I assumed the early childhood crush I harbored for my Lois Lane had dwindled and faded. Ha! I was a fool. My crush on Margot was very ...

"Opium Wars" by Zoe Lund

She wants there to be more of her. More space taken by her body, More decibels conquered by her voice, More time by her wakefulness, More equations by her addition. She wants more, I want less. Her blade is rusty, musty, sweaty and vain. I like it clean and sharp and dark-bright. She traffics in surplus, I bare my essentials. Her world is elastic but brittle. Mine is bony but moonlit. Hers flows, she ebbs. Mine ebbs, I flow. She dies in life, I live in death. —Zoe Lund, “Opium Wars”

It Came From the '90s: My Secret Crush on The Nanny

This series looks back at the 1990s and its influence on the generation of people who came of age during the decade. For six seasons in the 1990s, The Nanny made many of us laugh. At times, it could be downright hilarious . At others, well, not so much . This isn't a review of a '90s sitcom staple, though. No. This is simply an excuse to come clean about something I've kept buried deep inside for over two decades now: I had a secret crush on The Nanny herself, Fran Drescher. The unadulterated nineties-ness of this is practically blinding. And I love it. While The Nanny was sometimes quite funny, thanks largely to Drescher's spunky charisma and wholehearted commitment, the show was never considered hip. People my parents age seemed to love it, but my friends preferred, well, Friends . That smile! Those legs! That dress! It's all overloading my circuits. I watched Friends with my friends, but I also thoroughly enjoyed The Nanny , to...

Double Feature: Michelle Pfieffer and Al Pacino

Revisiting—or in a few cases, watching for the first time—and celebrating the work of Michelle Pfeiffer,  the best actress of my lifetime.* If you've been paying attention around here lately , you know that I adore Michelle Pfeiffer. She's likely my favorite actor, hands down. Al Pacino, however, also sits right there at the top of my personal pantheon. So it's no surprise that their two film collaborations are extremely special to me. They first starred together in Scarface (1983), Brian De Palma's wildly ambitious and searing critique of power, avarice, and the American Dream, as told through the rise and fall of a drug kingpin. That film belongs to Pacino, with Pfeiffer in a smaller, yet crucially important role. Eight years later, they shared the screen again in Frankie and Johnny (1991), Garry Marshall's warm, tender, and honest look at two damaged people falling in love. This time, Michelle's Frankie is the film's real focal point, with Al'...