Oh Danny DeVito. What light emanates from
thine head.
No more perfect a man has ever lived, than
Danny DeVito. In this video we are going to
bask in the glorious light of Danny D, and
with great respect and reverence we are going
to live in his light and gaze upon his form.
Danny DeVito. A man. A myth. A lorax. What
is it that compels us to love him so? To hold
him tenderly within our hearts like a precious
egg in times that are trying? What is it that
enamours us so with this small, chaotic, cackling
man?
My first exposure to Danny DeVito must have
been in the film Matilda. Of course the story
of Matilda had an impact on me as I'm sure
it did with many children with wild, creative
imaginations and a love of books, because
in Matilda I saw myself, but also a hopeful
vision, a fantasy of self-actualisation in
a world that confused me. Childhood was a
place where I was aware of an undercurrent
of powerlessness, and books were secret worlds
I could immerse myself in. Adults were stiff
and strange and dismissive in a million different
ways, and so too were kids in other ways,
but books were places with different rules,
places of fantasy, power, and adventure. And
Matilda's story gave her agency and the glorious
ability to prank. Oh how she pranked. And
her bumbling, explosive car salesman father
was one of her well-deserving prank victims,
played as we are very much aware, by Danny
DeVito.
He was a perfect expression of a controlling
force wound up in a whirling hurricane of
abject stupidity. Not only the ideal object
of our ire, but a cartoonish caricature on
the cusp of a comically sad truth that frames
countless experiences of childhood for many
children. And an incredibly fun one to watch.
Later, I would find Danny DeVito in the body
of a surly satyr who yearns for me to get
up on the Hydra's back, or in Frank Reynolds,
or in that weird film where Martin Freeman
has dreams about a mystery woman who later
shows up on billboards and he's like "that's
the woman from my dreams!" and also Danny
DeVito is there. It's called "The Good Night"
and watching it was a mistake. Don't do it.
The point is, Danny DeVito would visit me
in many forms throughout my life. I could
never outrun him. At every turn, he would
be there. In every shadow. In every raindrop.
And I welcomed him, as should we all.
Through these character threads and an ever-present
DeVito-ness permeating our fragile world,
it seems as if Danny DeVito himself has almost
become a character. He is larger than himself.
A figure of comedy, a winking reference, but
also something beloved and nostalgic. A familiar
symbol. After all, he is someone I remember
well from childhood and someone who has enough
cultural relevance now to conjur an image
of various chaotic and fascinating fictional
characters. And that's without commenting
on his physicality, but truly, a Danny DeVito
in motion is an affecting presence like no
other.
Danny DeVito saunters through our minds, a
poltergeist of the senses, a master of an
affected casual bombasticity, plonking himself,
an orb of gravel in a party popper, straight
into our hearts.
And that's where he belongs.
[singing solemnly] Oh I love Danny DeVito,
he's the man who brings me joy. Yes, I love
Danny DeVito, for he is my favourite boy.
