I was watching Kathy Bates in "Harry's Law" the other night, and I found myself equal parts tickled and intrigued by her walk. Now, I love me some Kathy Bates, so don't even think about going Tawanda on me, but I couldn't help but notice how her rather staccato totter conjured up strong images of her bashing the mess outta James Caan's ankles in Misery. She was ambling along in the way that was highly reminiscent of the way "South Park" characters do. It had a very distinctive rhythm, not as fast as an Indian nodding yes-no-you-figure-it-out, but more tick-tock ... like that clock, Cogsworth, in Beauty and the Beast. Whatever was going on in the scene, it was a rather perfunctory walk to somewhere or another. I was admittedly (obviously) distracted from the scene mainly because I wondered why it was necessary to show her walking and talking in the first place. (Mini-sidebar: I watched "Harry's Law" because, I'mma say it again, I love me some Kathy Bates, but there are certainly things about the show that maybe should've been strengthened or avoided ... the supporting cast had some rather high, odd turnover I must say. Anywho ...) It's not like she was doing a newscast or something. My immediate thought--the one after she turned Caan's ankles into schniztel--was, "What kinda shoes they got my Kathy wearing? Dem mugs must hurt. Dern!"
I was just annoyed because I thought it was unnecessary; the walking scene wasn't a good transition to the next thing that was fidna happen. It seemed more like, "See Kathy Walk." I didn't tune in for that. I tuned in because I loved how she told people where to stick it; that she carried a nice piece in her purse; and that she did her best to help Hilary out by showing the versatility and practicality that wearing a pantsuit every damn where allows. I'm not saying they needed to FDR her to a chair or her desk, but to have her jostling along with the jaunty pep of that character, Tommy Jefferson (played by the huh-lar-us Christopher McDonald) was a misstep.
At any rate, it sure did get me to thinking about other walks I've noticed and like to observe.
(I know you're probably wondering why in de Lawd's name I'm attributing an entire post to walks, but these are my observations. They wake or keep me up some nights and I've finally resolved to jot them down. Support me. I'm trying for the 4,719th time to recommit myself to this thing. For my amusement and yourn. Y'awn't like it? Click away ... but thanks for the hit!)
The catalog of smooth walkers is well documented, I feel. Everybody knows Denzel's walk is just plain badass; Samuel L. executes the righteous saunter; and Barack's gait is effortlessly fluid in its commanding cool. I think Idris Elba's stride is closing the "Mph, mph, mph that man can walk past me anytime" gap. And I wouldn't be myself if I didn't throw in Mr. Firth--he who possesses a rather crisp and confident carriage that I greatly enjoy watching.
And then there's a man like Phil Jackson. All the Zen in the world can't smoove out that stride. My hips hurt sometimes when I think about him walking ass-out like somebody's old grammy in her housecoat. Speaking of old grammies, my hips hurt the same way when I think about Irma P. Hall's bowlegged self in The (Tom Hanks KNOW he owe me $10) Ladykillers. I love watching bow-legged people walk though. Babies are hilariously suspenseful, but bow-legged people in general have their own interesting marches, and I like observing 'em.
Lady walkers all fall behind Naomi Campbell as far as I'm concerned. Or Maggie Smith as the Dowager Countess--there's just something about the way she moves with that cane. I'm partial to it because it reminds me of my Gran. The cane stroll is deceptively agile and certain, nevermind the sometimes wobbling wrist--it's a walk that says, "Move. Get out the way!" in a very Luda-like fashion. I'd charge you to abide by this, lest you get poked in the back or worse, whacked Misery-style 'cross your ankles.