No, not The Face).
While reading Dan Kois’s “post” on Mickey Rourke’s face, and while perusing the slideshow that tracks its steady deterioration from epicene handsomeness to bloated monstrousness — wait, this is a choice caption:
Four years of boxing left Rourke with some pretty impressive facial issues, it seems, because by 1995 he already is starting to look a little bit like a scary grandma on the subway. Not coincidentally, this is a fallow period in Rourke’s career — he makes a series of forgettable movies, ending with Another 9 1/2 Weeks in 1997.
My only objection is re: the supposed “forgettableness” of Another 9 1/2 Weeks. Though I’ve never seen it, my guess is that the memory of seeing it would last a lifetime, or certainly whenever one listened to various smooth jams.
I also really enjoyed this one:
Worried about how frightening your face looks? Sit next to Bob Dylan! Next to the ancient sage of rock and roll, Rourke looks fantastic.
Then there was the post about Mickey Rourke winking. Good grief. I was going to write something about cultural attitudes towards male and female attractiveness, etc., but I think I’m content to contemplate the haunting visage of Rourke. Hopefully these images will deter you from engaging in any serious and sustained recreational boxing, or any other activity that will involve having your face ferociously beaten for hours on end.
Also, I wanted to share a tattoo possibility.