Let me say right up front that on a conscious level Miss Pop Rocks fully understands that John Cusack is not, in fact, Lloyd Dobler, star of the great 80s filmSay Anything
. Miss Pop Rocks knows that Lloyd Dobler is a fictional character, and that there is really probably no real boy out there who will show up at a girl’s window holding a boom box, pining for her affections. That there is no real boy who is so fucking cool he digs The Clash, and is friends with girls in a non-creepy way, and sends romantic notes to the young woman he lost his virginity to. And he can drive stick shift.
On a certain level, Miss Pop Rocks knows all of this.
But on a totally different level…on the level where Miss Pop Rocks is still a 14-year-old nerdy girl watching Say Anything for the first time…I believe that Lloyd Dobler is real. And that John Cusack IS Lloyd Dobler.
And now Lloyd Dobler is making a craptastic film called Martian Boy.
Lloyd Dobler, how could you?
First up, let me argue that I’m not alone in my love for Lloyd. There exists a significant cult of women out there of a certain age who are deeply, passionately in love with Lloyd Dobler/John Cusack. And as I’ve mentioned above, they have these feelings for very good reasons.
In my mind, of course, Lloyd/John is living overseas with Diane/Ione, and they’ve made it against the odds and have even birthed a few adorable, chubby babies and are uber-hip and progressive in their politics and so on.
But in my nightmare, Diane dumped Lloyd and forced him to move back to the States where he adopted a boy who thinks he’s a Martian.
Lloyd has done stupid things before. Once, he fell in love with a simpy Kate Beckinsale at a skating rink and spent years looking for her. Another time, he crushed on Diane Lane in some situation involving dogs. And still another time he was torn between Catherine Zeta-Jones and Julia Roberts blah blah blah too painful to go on.
But never has he sunk so low as to adopt a child who thinks he is a Martian.
Lloyd/John, you don’t have to try so hard to tug at our heartstrings. Don’t you know a boy into The Clash who once held a boom box outside our bedroom window has already tugged at them enough? Tugged at them so hard they almost broke?
Don’t you know you don’t need some silly, contrived, schmaltzy situation to make us love you? Don’t you know having tender first sex in the back of a Chevy Malibu is all we want? All we need?
Don’t you realize, Lloyd, that as our world crumbles around us and our father is convicted on tax evasion, we want YOU, bloody and beaten from kick boxing…not some boy who wears sunglasses and believes he needs to contact his home planet?
Don’t you understand?
Please Lloyd, listen up. Dump the Martian kid, and come back to us.
The girls of America need you. – Jennifer Mathieu
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