The Last Hand (2012)
“Neither Gene Kelly nor Fred Astaire had danced their way into his heart, and a legion of songs and singers had left him looking at his watch, wondering when the next comic bit was coming. Sopranos with nice tits well-framed in lace as in The Merry Widow were okay as long as they didn’t shriek, but their male counterparts had him running for the popcorn concession as soon as June started bustin’ out all over. The worst, in his experience, were the whimsical movies, the ones with elves. The only exceptions to his prejudice, formed in early adolescence, were Kiss Me Kate—in his view the first and only adult musical—and bits of Guys and Dolls.
He had never seen Alexander’s Ragtime Band. The date did not seem promising, sometime before he was born, but he hoped for an antique quaintness that would make up for the inevitable corniness.
“What are you watching, Dad?”
After the omelette had been cooked and eaten, Seth and Tatti had gone out to get an ice cream, and he had not heard them return.
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