|You can spot the skunk ape behind the bush|
Let’s take a look of an idealized French Quarter for a few minutes. Yes, we’re back to our Elvis marathon…
I wish someone would call me King Creole, but I’m from Connecticut so that’s never going to happen.
Do vendors wander the French Quarter streets in mule carts singing about crawfish nowadays? No. Nor do they sell gumbo from a hand-pulled cart or carry baskets on their heads as they tout their wares to all who can hear. It’s a myth. It was a myth in 1958 when Elvis came to New Orleans to shoot a movie.
|Played at a theater near you|
According to the film’s plot, after Elvis’ character’s mother died and his father lost his job as a pharmacist, the impoverished family moved to the French Quarter. Let me tell you something: today, there are very few, if any, impoverished families living in the French Quarter. The Quarter has some of the priciest real estate in New Orleans. A lot of it is rented out on AirB&B.
I’m not going to recap the whole plot of King Creole. It makes about as much sense as anything in New Orleans does. The movie is one part folderol, one part balderdash, one part myth-making, another part of nostalgia, and a dollop of sentimentality. Toss in a dash of bitters and the whole shebang makes for a satisfying and toe-tapping cocktail. Sounds like any day here, really. That’s why Frau Schmitt and I love where we live. All the world’s a stage…etc. Etcetera.
Frau Schmitt is usually right about these things.
Does a remix add any value to the original?
Regular readers already know that your humble narrator has established a reputation as being an old fuddy-duddy. I’m not so interested in the myth and the overall narrative and the cotton candy and the pecan pie on the other side of the levee. I just enjoy wandering our city on foot, saying hello to everyone I encounter along the way, engaging in idle chitchat and learning some actual news from the street. We live in an amazing city. I could make up stories about what I do every day but the prosaic truth of my errands and to-and-fro are profound and entertaining enough.
We really do live in an amazing city. We don’t eat crawfish everyday. We don’t eat jambalaya or gumbo or barbecue shrimp every day. We do eat well, though. In New Orleans, it is almost impossible not to eat well. We are content. In New Orleans, it is almost impossible not to be content. Most people are positively, genuinely happy. It’s that kind of a city.
If you want to escape your cares, come to New Orleans. Life is different here. Come as a visitor but stay like a friend. You can stay at La Belle Esplanade…where every morning is a curated New Orleans breakfast salon. We look forward to sharing our city with you.
There was a song from the King Creole soundtrack that hit #1 on he Billboard Top 10. It wasn’t Crawfish. It was Hard Headed Woman. I wasn’t alive then so you can’t blame me. How does a Youtube fan video compare to the original film clip in which the song first appeared? I’m not here to judge.
New Orleans is all things to all people. It is The City That Care Forgot.
A tip of our fedora to Megan and Lauren!
À votre santé, nos amies.