The Greatest Story Ever Told

The Greatest Story is not the greatest story

It begins and ends in fairytale and has a central section where the hero just bats about from place to place causing awe.

You've seen one healing miracle, you've seen 'em all.

Relationships are sketchy and there's no love interest.

The central figure is almost impossible to identify with.

The role of Jesus kills careers. Max von Sydow went from being Bergman's leading man (unforgettable as the knight in the Seventh Seal) to sitting beside his Hollywood pool waiting for the phone to ring. Robert Powell went from nowhere very much to playing a curly haired comic policeman opposite Jasper Carrott.

The only Jesus movie I've ever watched from beginning to end was Jesus Christ Superstar. It was crap.

Pubic Hair

I understand that no-one under thirty likes pubic hair.

See here

I grew up in the 60s when pubic hair was the holy grail. Why do you think anyone ever watched anything by Jean-Luc Godard?

No, that's unfair; Godard in his pomp rocked my soul. Weekend was a life-changing experience. But it didn't hurt that he had chicks walking around in the background with their panties off.

And back then chicks with their panties off meant huge, cushiony swatches of pubic hair.

The temple was veiled....

O.K., OK... Now I'm embarrassing myself.

Apparently the fashion for bare pubes is down to porn. Porn stars wax. And we all aspire to be porn stars (Ach, we are such sheep) just as we all once aspired to be the Venus de Milo or the Apollo Belvedere.

Though that was a little before my time.

The first artist to paint pubic hair was- I rather think- Gustave Courbet. Thereafter the bush had a golden age that lasted approximately a hundred years.

I think the human body benefits from that patch of shading. To me it looks unfinished without it.

The pornstar look is an android look- No hair out of place, boneless bits that don't wobble. Immaculate.

I reject it. I like flesh that behaves like flesh. Follicles that work.

The call of the wild.