To Young Fans, These Bad Boys Had It Together
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Corey, Corey, how we loved you.
You were the Double Bubble of teen cinema, the Olsen Twins of 1987-92. You have last names, we know -- Feldman and Haim, or was it Heldman and Faim? -- but now that you're reuniting for your new reality series, you've seen how extraneous they are. "The Two Coreys." Sublime.
Your first meeting was star-crossed. Your pubescent 15-year-old selves auditioned against each other for roles in "Goonies" and "Lucas," and you each landed one. Does it matter any longer who was in which? It does not. Combined, you became simply Corey -- squared. And though you appeared alone sometimes, you were never so Corey as when you were together, in "License to Drive," in "Dream a Little Dream," in any of your numerous direct-to-video films.
What did it mean to us, your preteen public, for you to be Corey? You gave us an alternative to the scrubbed solar system that was the Brat Pack, for one thing, forming a bad-boy constellation consisting of two stars that revolved only around each other. Your friendship helped, too; the real-life-BFF was 2 cute 2B 4-gotten.
But mostly it was the gimmick, the Tiger Beat example of a whole being greater than the sum of its parts. You taught us the meaning of symbiosis in a way our seventh-grade science teacher, Mr. Basolo, never could. When we had sleepovers with our best friend and planned our double weddings to you, we never had the "Charles in Charge" fight over who would marry Scott Baio and who would get stuck with Willie Aames. We just referred to you as "my future husband, Corey," and each of us secretly made the other into Mrs. Feldman.
You got tired of the gimmick in the early 1990s. "I'm really trying to get away from this whole 'Corey' thing," you, Corey Haim, protested in 1992. We saw it coming, frankly, but we still mourned your parting the way we would later mourn the breakup of homonymously perfect Cruise and Cruz. We would have warned you against it, but we held our tongues and listened to you wax optimistically about new independent roles that would never materialize. Drugs materialized instead, Coreys. Drugs.
But you couldn't stay apart for long. Rumblings for a reunion special began as early as five years ago. The Coreys solve mysteries. The Coreys fight crime. The Coreys have a cook-off. None of it could lure you back together.
Now we understand why. You were waiting for the right opportunity, one that would showcase you best. "The Two Coreys" does that. Nothing is expected from you other than for neither of you to change your name to, say, Bob.
We cannot say that this is the beginning of a renaissance, Coreys. But we do know this: If there is even the slightest chance for a comeback, you have to do it this way. You have to be together.