To this day, the epitome of my ideal man is Tommy Lee Jones in The Fugitive. It just doesn’t get any better than this, amirite ladies?
There’s this scene
in Coal Miner’s Daughter that I will stay up late just to see, then turn the movie off. (It’s at 6:39 in this clip, best I could do.) Right after Loretta and her husband, “Doo” (“DOO, you sound just like a big ole BAAAAAr!”) find out that her song “Honky Tonk Woman” is #14 on Billboard, they are driving at night in the rain to the Grand Ole Opry. Loretta is in the back seat, sort of nuzzling TLJ’s neck while he’s driving. He keeps looking directly ahead, driving, then you see his eyes cut over to the side really quick, looking in the rearview, and then, he unbuckles his seatbelt, pulls off of the interstate to the shoulder, parks, jerks the parking brake on, turns around and climbs over the front seat into the back, without ever saying a word, all to “Crazy” by Patsy Cline playing on the radio. It just KILLS me. It’s so very, “let me just go take care of this.”
Does anybody else just want to lean Tommy Lee Jones in Coal Miner’s Daughter up against a wall and MAKE out with him so much?
