Eddie Cantor: A Tribute

Eddie Cantor starts with a question knowing the answer.

"Mr. Olson would you play something for Eddie? Do that will you?"

It's an empty stage, white as slate. Eddie's shadow barely registers on the floor which fades at an indiscriminate point into blackness. Perhaps he would fade too if his frame wasn't haloed by two strong lights which still can't clear up his face: two dark holes, a shadow under the nose, and a line for the mouth.

People go for the eyes first but here, given nothing, the gaze slides to his body. He is tapping his foot to the music, swaying his hips to offset his arms which pop up and slide down, his hands tracing shapes, and every so often he snaps his head to the side staring where we cannot: off-camera. No wonder we don't notice that for a full minute he is only in one spot. There is so much concentrated energy in this one spot that to move could break it. His tapping becomes bouncing, crossing his feet, sliding backwards than forward, his voice at a crescendo as he gives a gentlemanly bow before the song is over (How sure of himself!) before prancing offstage, head over shoulder at the stage and audience he is leaving behind...What a show!

Just as soon as he's off he's on. A ghost.

"Won't you play a little something for Eddie?"

How can they not? If they refuse, he'll walk off-camera back to the stage asking for another song. As long as the camera rolls Eddie will be there. Maybe in the background, a spectral, haunting film with his imprint, his name forgotten but his presence stubbornly returning time and time again asking politely but never waiting for the answer.

Unlike most films that fade to black as an end, this tears apart, loses its sound and then cuts.

But not until Eddie has taken his bow.



As a note, I can't ignore the sexism in this video. I don't believe a disclaimer about my beliefs needs to be here, but I don't want my words to be interpreted in the wrong manner. I don't agree with it, but (and there's that but) living in a PC land, it's nice to see an almost innocent incorrectness. And Mr. Cantor is endearing. Anyone else and I might have to sock 'em