Riffs

The guys were seated next to each other in their usual spots on the floor of the loft. But the fake fireplace blazed relatively unnoticed by the residents who were still staring blankly at the now dark screen of the recently turned off TV set.

“You liked the movie, Kiddo,” Brian announced.

“And just how do you know that, Kinney?” the kid challenged the statement with a smile. “I didn’t say so….”

“Well I can always tell that kind of thing,” Brian told him. “You didn’t say hardly anything for almost two hours while the picture was running. And you’re like – still humming ‘The Riff Song.’ You don’t have the melody exactly right but you’re close enough that I can recognize it.”

“I’m really glad I live with such a musical paragon,” Justin laughed. “With a true musician’s ear. Like you know a tune so well you can tell I’m humming it wrong – even if you couldn’t carry that same tune in a wheel-barrow.”

“So I guess ‘The Riff Song’ was your favorite number in the show?” Brian changed the subject only slightly.

“Well I didn’t say that, did I?” Justin maintained. “I liked all the songs – I don’t know if I have a favorite - but I was just now thinking about us maybe - riding with those Riffs – charging across the desert on our speedy Arabian horses – chasing those bad guys….”

“Probably not authentic, JT, - even if there is a real historical background to the story,” Brian grinned. “They probably should have been charging across the desert on their camels – and I don’t think I saw a single camel in the whole damn thing – so it was not authentic….”

“Gee whiz, Kinney,” Justin complained. “You must be trying to ruin the darn movie for me. Charging camels - that’s a terrible image. ‘The Desert Song’ was a great movie – but mostly because of the songs. The plot wasn’t all that plausible – but who cares – with that music?”

“Plots didn’t need to be plausible back in 1926 when Sig Romberg and Oscar Hammerstein wrote ‘Desert Song.’ It was an operetta, JT - and folks back then would have been mad if there had been a real sensible plot. There were several screen versions of it too. Babe,” Brian pointed out. “And I think the first one was a silent movie – no songs at all. Then there was a talkie version in 1943 and this one was from 1953 – and it was the last one – and the best one too.”

“Well I’m glad TCM picked the 1953 version to show,” Justin opined. “The singing was like – perfect. You do know a lot about old movies though, Mr. Kinney – even if you have a problem carrying the tunes. Kathryn Grayson and Gordon MacRae were perfect. Hey, Brian. Why didn’t we see this one sooner? You had to know I’d like it. If TCM hadn’t put it on maybe I never would have….”

“Well I think I actually tried a couple of times to get it at the video rental places” Brian said. “And it is available on DVD according to the internet experts – but it is very hard to find – so when I saw it listed on TV for tonight I thought ….”

“Netflix, Bri,” Justin interposed with a trace of impatience. “Ever hear of Netflix? I’m like – always connected to Netflix….”

“Then it’s your own fault you didn’t see it sooner, Taylor,” Brian reasoned. “You could have ordered it yourself – but you never did….”

“Like you ever told me about it either, BK,” Justin came back at him. “How was I to even know there was such a movie – not even being born in 1953?”

“Yeah,” Brian grinned. “That’s why I can’t get blamed for not taking you along back in ’53 when me and Mikey went to see it at the Stanley.”

“Kathryn Grayson is really pretty, Bri,” Justin got back to the serious discussion.

“You don’t think she was as pretty as Gordon MacRae, do you?” Brian laughed. “I mean….”

“Well maybe she was when he was Paul, the nerdy scientist – with the glasses and all,” Justin admitted. “But he was really something else when he was El Khobar – leading the Riffs into battle. Like Clark Kent doesn’t look so hot either - but when he’s Superman….”

“Yeah, there’s a little bit of Superman in ‘Desert Song,’ I guess,” Brian agreed, “but I don’t think I ever heard Superman sing.”

“Or Lois Lane either,” Justin pointed out. “But maybe they could….”

The conversation died out right then as the guys moved their attention from the blank TV screen to the blazing fake fire – and their minds turned toward other matters – as they often did. The discussion was not, however, over at this point – delayed but not over.

“You know what, Bri?” Justin eventually resumed the ‘Desert Song” discourse. “Maybe I’ll talk Malcolm into putting on the stage version of ‘Desert Song’….”

“With you in the lead?” Brian grinned. “’El Taylor maybe….”

“Well if he cast you in the lead, Brian Kinney,” Justin assumed the offensive, “he better do the silent version. You’re good-looking enough – like Gordon MacRae – but your voice isn’t quite as good….”

“Well if he does the original play, Baby,” Brian displayed his theatrical erudition, “it won’t be El Taylor or even El Khobar – like in the movie. It’ll be the Red Shadow. And the Red Shadow won’t be the general’s daughter’s boy-friend either. He’ll be the general’s son. They made some changes in the movie….”

“So I’ll just have Malcolm do a stage version of the movie, Kinney,” Justin decided. “That’ll keep things right. Forget about discouraging me from my triumphant return to the theater….”

“I wouldn’t think of discouraging you, Sweetheart,” Brian had to laugh. “And I’ll be at every performance too – and I’ll really enjoy watching you charge across that tiny stage at the Community Playhouse – with your wild band of Riffs - on your Arabian horses – or maybe on camels since I think I remember that Malcolm is a stickler for verisimilitude ….”

“Damn it Brian,” Justin laughed back. “You are too trying to discourage me. Well it won’t work. I think I’ve made up my mind and there’s nothing you can do to change it. You know how I am ….”

Seeming to take that as a challenge, Brian – who absolutely did know how Justin was - closed his arm tightly around the kid and pulled him a little closer. He might have – in that process – taken Justin’s mind off ‘The Desert Song’ – at least temporarily.

It was quite a while later when Justin, his head resting on Brian’s shoulder softly broke the silence. “Blue heaven and you and I,” he crooned.

“And sand kissing a moonlit sky,’” Brian semi-crooned in response – just slightly off pitch.

Now there was no “blue heaven” in the loft – nor any “sand” to kiss any “moonlit sky.” But the guys were not looking at that point for a plausible plot. Who needed a plausible plot? Wasn’t their life kind of like an operetta? It was the music that mattered – and that they had in abundance.
 

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