“It was so strange,” he said. “I was actually having a massage, and the guy who was giving me a massage said, ‘I’m worried about you. I think we should call a doctor.’ I felt fine. I had no symptoms I was aware of. I wasn’t in pain.”
Curry found out he’d had a stroke after being admitted to the hospital, and immediately thought about his dad, who’d suffered a fatal stroke when Curry was 10. “I was scared,” he said of his reaction to learning he was following in his dad’s footsteps.
Afterward, Curry had brain surgery and rehabilitation. “I had to learn how to speak again,” he said. “That was very weird. I hated not being able to speak.” In addition, the left side of his face became paralyzed. “My face kind of went sideways,” he said.
Of his role as a mad scientist Dr. Frank-N-Furter, “the sweet transvestite, from Transsexual, Transylvania,” as he so memorably sang in Rocky Horror, Curry said that role helped others who might have been afraid to be different.
“He had a lot of power — Frank. He gave a lot of teenagers permission to be different and i’m very happy that he did have that power,” Curry said.
The actor has a new memoir, Vagabond, but told Mankiewicz he prefers hat some secrets stay secret, so the book isn’t a tell-all. “One of the keys is to not encourage an identity,” he said. “I’ve tried to nurse that. I have protected that and continued to.”
Curry also opened up about his mom, who he believes had bipolar disorder. She exhibited frequent mood swings and could be cruel to her son, Curry said. Despite his success, she “didn’t make much of it,” he said. “She was scared of it. She said to me later that ‘I thought your head was going to grow too big.’ She would have preferred me to operate under the radar.… [But] I never did. I didn’t give a shit about the radar.’”
He also doesn’t wallow in sadness. “I don’t admire self-pity much — another legacy from my mother, I guess,” he said. “It’s one I am thankful for. ‘Why are you so important that we have to pity you?’” he said, laughing.
The actor, now 79, added that he isn’t afraid of dying.
“I don’t fear death. I try to avoid it,” he said, laughing. “I think we all do, but I suspect that in the end, I will welcome it. I think it may be very comforting to go bye-bye, and I want to earn it,” he added with another laugh.
Evidently continuing to assert herself as the reigning queen of making Taurus anthems (sorry Adele [though “Someone Like You” still slaps, particularly as a Taurus anthem/torch song]), with “Taste” (not to be confused with Sophie Ellis-Bextor’s) and “Please Please Please” being some of the pinnacles of what that means, Sabrina Carpenter has released yet another one: “Tears.” Marking the second hit single from Man’s Best Friend (following “Manchild”), it’s very much in keeping with the tropes of this specific zodiac sign—more to the point, her specific zodiac sign. And yes, it was Carpenter herself who once said, “My favorite thing about being a Taurus is that I get to use the excuse ‘I’m sorry I’m a Taurus.’ It kinda works in every facet of life.”
Not least of which is lusting after a man who’s responsible, reliable and “good around the house.” For there’s nothing a Taurus loves more than someone who not only respects the sanctity of their domestic space, but even seeks to further elevate it. For their (usually-not-so-humble) abode is an environment they especially deem their “kingdom” (though they tend to see most everywhere else as part of their “dominion,” too). And, considering that Carpenter has been on tour for the past two years (embarking on the Short n’ Sweet Tour from 2024 to 2025), it’s no wonder she would deliver such comforts-of-home-craving lines as, “Assemble a chair from Ikea, I’m like, ‘Uh.’” Granted, the unabashed decadence of Taurean tastes means you won’t typically find them anywhere near an Ikea. Particularly with a limitless budget like Carpenter’s.
What they can be found near, however, are spooky houses with sumptuous interiors, as is the case with the Rocky Horror Picture Show-inspired video that accompanies the track. For what is a Taurus if not adventurous and naughty, paired with a dichotomous penchant for desiring luxury, debauchery and comfort? Then, of course, there’s the “problem” of being ruled by Venus, which applies not just to the planet, but to the goddess also known as Aphrodite. Her sensual nature, which makes the frequently-depicted-in-the-buff deity a natural fit for embodying the Goddess of Love, is what extends to the sign she reigns over, with the Taurus’ sense of raunchiness (and, as Carpenter also represents, general horniness)—e.g., “I get wet at the thought of you/Being a responsible guy…/Tears run down my thighs—getting them into almost as much trouble as their stubbornness.
Regarding the raunch factor, it’s at least part of what draws “innocent” (even if only in appearance) Carpenter to the abandoned-looking ramshackle of a house after her incompetent boyfriend apparently got them into a car crash. Then, like Alice down the rabbit hole or Dorothy in Oz, Carpenter stumbles upon a “land” that makes everything suddenly feel like it’s in Technicolor, having formerly existed in a bland, black-and-white way in the life she shared with her now-presumed-dead boyfriend. But Carpenter’s Easter Sunday appearance quickly gives way to clothes coming off (quite literally) as she dances and prances with Colman Domingo (a Sag cusping Scorpio, Taurus’ opposite on the zodiac wheel, which also makes Scorpio something like their diabolical id) in the overt Dr. Frank-N-Furter role. A pied piper bringing out all of Carpenter’s inner kink. On this note, it seems an unfair (and inaccurate) stereotype that Taureans are also often accused of being “boring” when, in fact, that couldn’t be further from the truth. For their love of “responsibility” is matched only by their love of fun and beauty (these things, increasingly, often being what only money can buy and, therefore, part of the Taurean obsession with making as much of it as possible).
This love of fun and beauty is what Carpenter embodies in the Bardia Zeinali-directed video (following what he did for another one of Carpenter’s Taurus anthems, “Please Please Please”). Her Taurean fervor for the heady combination of vibrant aesthetics and sensuality reaches an especial crescendo as she “just happens to find herself” in frilly lingerie while pole-dancing in some nearby cornfield. And not just because, as an Earth sign, Carpenter can’t help but show some love for “the land.” With cornfields also being a “necessary” cliché in many horror movies (see, most recently: Pearl, with the eponymous character putting her own “sexy spin” on what a cornfield can provide, mood-wise…apart from just creepiness). But the “horror” (or horror-comedy, considering the movie it pays homage to) pastiche of “Tears” is wielded, ultimately, to emphasize a “pure” and “wholesome” girl (read: a Taurus) coming to terms with her irrepressible sexuality (read: a Taurus at war with their so-called dark side). Much like Janet Weiss (Susan Sarandon) in The Rocky Horror Picture Show.
By the same token, what awakens the sexual gratitude in a Taurus are the very “normie,” Hestia-oriented types of things Carpenter brings up when she declares, “A little respect for women can get you very, very far/Remembering how to use your phone gets me oh so, oh so hot/Considering I have feelings, I’m like, ‘Why are my clothes still on?’/Offering to do anything, I’m like, ‘Oh my God.’” And, of course, the domesticity “codedness” of, “I get wet at the thought of you/Being a responsible guy/Treating me like you’re supposed to do/Tears run down my thighs” can’t be overemphasized enough. Mixing the pure and the profane as only a Taurus can with that chorus (no rhyme intended), Carpenter then continues, “A little initiative can go a very long, long way/Baby, just do the dishes, I’ll give you what you, what you want/A little communication, yes, that’s my ideal foreplay.”
It doesn’t get more “banal” than that—and yet, this expression of “just wanting some safeness and dependability” is spiced up in a manner that only a Taurus can do it, with their keen ability to infuse the quotidian with a much-needed tincture of sexiness and sassiness. A skill that, lately, Carpenter has been quite keen to flex. Because, yes, a bit of a “nobody does it better” attitude is also part and parcel of being a “standard” Taurus. Along with plenty of snark “hidden” behind that false veneer of “being slow” (or slow-talking).
Sabrina Carpenter’s vocal doppelgänger, Ariana Grande, may have once said, “Ain’t got no tears left to cry,” but Carpenter is telling a different tale on “Tears,” the second single and video from her bop-laden seventh album, Man’s Best Friend. A song that indicates she has plenty of “moisture” left to…cry. Only not from her eyes so much as from her vag, ergo the chorus, “I get wet at the thought of you/Being a responsible guy/Treating me like you’re supposed to do/Tears run down my thighs.” Unfortunately, tears running down a girl’s thighs is an increasing rarity amid a climate of irresponsible men (in every possibly form that irresponsibility can take).
Like “Please Please Please,” “Tears” is once again directed by Bardia Zeinali (who also, incidentally, directed the Ariana Grande video for “In My Head”). But rather than riffing on a very hetero Bonnie and Clyde theme (complete with Barry Keoghan in the “Clyde” role), this time, Carpenter opts for a rightfully kitschy homage to the masterpiece of camp that is The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Borrowing key elements from the first act of the movie, the well-timed-for-the-advent-of-fall video opens on an overhead shot of a car that’s clearly crashed (though into what is never made apparent), with Carpenter lying face-down off to the side of the passenger seat, as though she was thrown from the vehicle.
Dressed in what can best be described as her Easter Sunday best, Carpenter “comes to” as the sound of a howling wolf in the dead of night only adds to the creep factor of her environment. Seeing that they’ve conveniently crashed right near someone’s spooky house (much more convenient than the distance Brad [Barry Bostwick] and Janet [Susan Sarandon] had to walk in order to get to Dr. Frank-N-Furter’s [Tim Curry] castle), Carpenter decides to approach the seemingly abandoned abode to get help. Even if all the signs point to the fact that she ought to just run the other way, lest, like Brad and Janet, she ends up going down a “dark path” from whence she can’t return.
When she knocks on the door (with the “spooky vocalizing” of the song briefly playing), no one answers. Yet when she peers through the boarded-up window emanating a glowing red light, she sees a “sexy leg” with a fishnet stocking on it, lifted up on a chair. Dropping her hat at the “salacious” sight, she steps backward and sees that the front door is now partially ajar. It doesn’t exactly emulate the way Brad and Janet are greeted by the handyman, Riff Raff (Richard O’Brien, who also wrote The Rocky Horror Picture Show), suggestively remarking to the couple, “You’re wet.” Soon after, he adds, “I think perhaps you better both…come inside.” These, of course, being the kind of innuendos that Carpenter can readily get on board with (and likely part of her attraction to the cult classic).
Just as she gets on board with Colman Domingo in the ostensible Dr. Frank-N-Furter role, along with his coterie of “colorful” guests (a polite word for pearl-clutchers to say “trans”). Guests who make Carpenter feel right at home as they sing along to such lyrics as, “A little initiative can go a very long, long way/Baby, just do the dishes, I’ll give you what you, what you want/A little communication, yes, that’s my ideal foreplay/Assemble a chair from Ikea, I’m like, ‘Uh.’”
In the next scene, she’s thrust into a “red room,” with a number of disembodied hands (with over-the-top acrylics) disrobing her as one of them passes her a Coke-inspired can with the “brand” Tears on it and the tag line, “Get wet.” To be sure, these eerily detached arms and hands recall something out of Jean Cocteau’s La Belle et la Bête more than they do The Rocky Horror Picture Show.
Before she knows it, she is getting pretty wet over “Colman Frank-N-Furter’s” vibe and lifestyle, finding herself pole dancing in a cornfield (something about this feeling very Pearl) as this ringleader of “dolls” (as in, “Protect the dolls”) observes her with something like aroused approval (but, like, a gay man’s kind of approval) from his perch on a tractor. Talk about campifying “butch” paraphernalia.
The 70s (a.k.a. disco-fied) sound of the track intensifies after Carpenter announces, “Dance break,” which singals yet another backdrop change. One that showcases Carpenter in a showgirl-y number (think: Cher on The Sonny & Cher Show) as she prances along the streets of some alley (for this house is apparently magical in its ability to provide all kinds of milieus at the literal drop of a hat).
It would seem that, having been out of the house for so long in these random outdoor settings, the abode evidently realizes it can’t sustain Carpenter’s fundamental heteronormativity, spitting her back out after her choreo with the trans residents runs its course. Once again outfitted in her “Easter Sunday” ensemble, Carpenter tries to get her bearings just as her boyfriend, billed as “the guy who has to die” (Joe Apollonio), randomly appears to say, “Baby! I’m so glad you’re okay.” Carpenter, on the other hand, doesn’t look all that glad that he’s okay, responding, “Wait…no.”
Perhaps blaming him (and his straightness) in some way for getting her “bounced” from the house, she continues, “You died earlier I thought.” He replies, “Babe, what are you talking about?” She then meta-ly explains, “It’s a thing, it has to…someone has to die every video.” This being a reference to “Taste” (another one-word single that starts with a “T”). Looking and sounding horrified at what she’s suggesting, before he knows what’s happening, Carpenter says, “Sorry, we’ll always remember you though.” And with that, she boomerangs her high heel into his chest.
Carpenter then gets up from the porch and declares, “You have to give the people what they want.” And what the people with, that’s right, taste want are references to The Rocky Horror Picture Show from a mainstream artist at a time when transphobia in the U.S. has ramped up at an alarming rate. Thus, Domingo’s tweet announcing the arrival of the video with, “Protect all the Dolls.”
Among the many “reassessments” of Home Alone 2: Lost in New York, complete with its implausible representation of realistic geographic proximity, one that hasn’t really been called out is the idea that everyone “hearts” New York when Daddy’s credit card is still working. In fact, the only reason Kevin McCallister (Macaulay Culkin) doesn’t immediately despise NYC is because he “just happened” (thanks to the careful plot device curation of John Hughes) to need some batteries for his Talkboy. The batteries, of course, being located in his dad Peter’s (John Heard) man bag that Kevin ends up holding onto in the midst of getting on the wrong flight. And what else would Peter keep in there but his fully-loaded wallet? Here it bears bringing up that while everyone likes to meme about Peter McCallister being rich—because how else could he afford a house like that and all those vacations with so many mouths to feed?—the McCallister family is decidedly middle-class by 90s standards. The family only seems “rich” in the present because it’s impossible for most people to keep their head above water in this post-capitalist society still clinging to Empire “ideals” of capitalism. That said, money and exuding the appearance of wealth was arguably more important in the 90s—and easier to carry off for “average” people.
Not to mention faux rich ones like none other than Donald Trump himself, who illustriously cameos at the twenty-six-minute-forty-five-second mark to give Kevin the oh-so-difficult-to-discern information that the lobby is “down the hall and to the left.” And yes, it’s a wonder Trump could manage to complete that scant amount of dialogue without biffing it. The reason for his appearance stemmed from buying The Plaza Hotel in 1988 for 407 million dollars (of money borrowed from banks—because Trump is the epitome of the “American dream”… being secured through shady means and fake money). It didn’t take long for Trump’s lack of business acumen (despite cultivating a reputation to the contrary) to show up in the form of renovating and operating the hotel at a considerable loss… specifically 600 million dollars’ worth of loss by 1992, the very year that Home Alone 2: Lost in New York would come out. Yet Trump, forever concerned with appearances, still had the gall to appear in the movie as The Plaza’s “owner” despite already negotiating a prepackaged bankruptcy deal with his conglomerate of bank creditors, ultimately “led” by Citibank. One that was arranged in November, the very month of the Home Alone sequel’s release. How poetic indeed.
So it is that Trump’s appearance in the movie is emblematic of a larger truth about America in general and New York City specifically: it’s never about actually having money, so much as radiating the illusion that you do (see also: Anna Delvey). Kevin, too, embodies this with his confidence, the very word giving birth to “con,” which means both to win someone’s confidence and to have the confidence to believe in one’s own lies. As Kevin does when he approaches the front desk at the hotel with a whole backstory ready to provide that allows him to rather seamlessly use the credit card that will secure him so much ephemeral fun on this impromptu Christmas vacation. Sure, “Concierge” a.k.a. Mr. Hector (Tim Curry) is overtly suspicious because he’s probably jealous he never came up with such a scheme when he was younger, but suspicion alone is not enough to make one turn away potential income for their place of business. Proving, as always, that money—even the fake money known as credit—talks.
Until, of course, it’s reported as stolen. A revelation that brings a Grinch-esque smile to Mr. Hector’s face because, like most broke asses, he gets his jollies from reining in those who might enjoy themselves thanks to money they didn’t earn. It’s from this moment (at approximately the forty-three-minute mark in the movie when the word “STOLEN” flashes on The Plaza’s machine after Mr. Hector does a check on it) forward when Kevin starts to understand just how much New York actually blows without money at one’s disposal. And sure, there have been many attempts, via various localized “free event” websites, to help people delude themselves into believing they can have a good time with little to no disposable income, but, after a while, you’re just that sad poor person who’s clearly only at the place in question because something about it was free or cheap (relatively speaking).
To intensify the reality that having no money in New York is fucking bleak, Kevin then comes face-to-face with the notorious Pigeon Lady. She, too, has deluded herself into believing that the best things in life are free in the “greatest” city in the world, showing Kevin that you can be cultured even without money by taking him to the attic (where other discarded things are kept) in Carnegie Hall and declaring, “I’ve heard the world’s great music from here. Ella Fitzgerald, Count Basie, Frank Sinatra, Luciano Pavarotti.”
But, as any insolvent person living in NY has found out, the loopholes to enjoy “free” activities have become increasingly few and far between. To boot, you’re never going to be “seen” without scores of dough, even if only on credit. That’s why the Pigeon Lady tells Kevin, “People pass me in the street, they see me, but they try to ignore me. They prefer I wasn’t part of their city.” And why? Because she’s moneyless “riffraff.” Might as well be dead if you’re broke—that’s the takeaway New York imparts on those who can’t manage “the grind.” Those who do find more “under the table” ways to survive are, in turn, met with fear and vitriol, as indicated by Kevin’s telling reactions to the prostitutes and deranged homeless people orbiting the periphery of Central Park (for, again, this was a period in NY history that was seedier, and far less sanitized than it is now, especially by Central Park).
In the years since this movie was released, even “alternate methods” of moneymaking in the “big city” have become progressively impossible. So it is that in the past couple of decades, the “I ‘Heart’ NY” slogan has given way to “I Can’t Afford to ‘Heart’ NY.” Neither could Kevin, in the end. For the conclusion of Home Alone 2: Lost in New York is for his dad to unearth the amount Kevin charged to his room at The Plaza—a whopping (even now) $967.43 (ballooned to that price by the addition of a $239.43 gratuity). So sure, New York is all fun and wonderment on Daddy’s dime. Until, inevitably, Daddy cuts off the purse strings. For even he’s too broke for New York.
Ironically enough, the movie’s beloved screenwriter, John Hughes, would end up dying in Manhattan. While taking a morning stroll on West 55th Street… just a stone’s throw to The Plaza. Perhaps he came across an obscene price point somewhere along the way that contributed to his heart attack, and made him realize that even when you’re rich, living in New York is financially untenable. Particularly when considering what one gets in return for all their payments (including the emotional ones).
