Photo: Pierrotsomepeopleon Flickr
Over Sunday breakfast I was telling my adult daughter about writing a post on Cluny's Cage. It's a scene in R.L. Stephenson's Kidnapped, but also a real historic place.
"Does the phrase 'Cluny's Cage' suggest anything to you?" I asked.
"Doesn't that refer to George Clooney?"
I waited, watching her face. She didn't miss a beat. "You know," she continued, "his refusal to get down and dirty in acting."
"How do you mean?"
"Well, he plays only roles like the austere pilot, the suave, crisp lawyer or the handsome doctor who never messes up his clothes. He's like Devon Cream, all smooth and slippery."
I grinned as she amplified. "He wants to be the modern day Cary Grant or Clark Gable. He refuses to lower himself to the dirty mud of acting. It's a kind of mental prison, Clooney's cage."