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@xanatenshi
To the Elvis Fandom...
First, Happy New Year! May 2026 Bless You!
Secondly, what are you most proud of completing/accomplishing related to the Elvis fandom?
Third, random Jess Wade picture because we all need more sexy, bearded, outlaw Elvis in our lives.
Okay, I know Elvis's movies weren't always the best in terms of plot, but...Spinout just confused me. I don't understand why these women all wanted to basically marry Mike on the spot. There's no sense of logic.
Les, I sort of understand, because she's presumably been with the band a long time and thus would know a lot of Mike's quirks and such; she'd obviously know him a bit better than the others.
But...I don't understand what makes Mike so attractive to the other two women. Yes, he's good-looking and sings well, but that's about it. Mike doesn't really have a stable job/ income, and he doesn't appear to have a stable place to live either as he's moving around a lot. I don't know about you, but those two things would seriously factor into who I choose to be my partner for the rest of my life. And I would want to know my partner's interests, quirks etc. before deciding to settle down with them.
This movie in particular just seems to have no logic.
Perhaps it's because modern women have more desires than just marrying a man to have a breadwinner. I honestly wonder what women in those days thought of this movie since the 1960s was a good transitional period for women's rights. Les feels like a contemporary woman, but she's treated as a joke.
It would've made sense if the movie is explaining why Mike is the perfect American male. Have him be chivalrous even when turning a woman down. Have him actually take interest in a woman's interests and accurately pair her up with a man who shares them.
The main fault is that Mike is so shallowly written that all you can say is:
The Final Review
That's right. The final Elvis film to review. This was a project that started back in 2022 and after 3 years it's finally coming to an end.
I can't thank you all more than enough for following me on this journey.
It has been special to watch so many of these with you that you reviewed. We even made it through Stay Away, Joe and Harum Scarum!
Congrats!
"I still love you."
Elvis looked at you with the same twinkling blue eyes you first fell in love with when he was just a young man.
Decades later, the laugh lines around those eyes remind you of everything you’ve been through, thick and thin.
You still remember that night he almost didn’t make it. Something had awoken you from a dream where you’d been chasing after him but every time you almost caught up he would disappear through another door. The dream had ended when you’d finally caught his shoulder and fell through a door with him onto the floor.
You knew something wasn’t right. You felt it. As you slipped from the bed, you’d gone to get some water from the bathroom and you saw him fall to the carpet. Then it was frantic phone calls and making sure he just breathed. “Breath baby!” Echoed in your head, the memory still made your heart race even after all these years.
And he looked at you now, that same crooked smile and your heart raced for other reasons. He spoke:
“I still love you.”
Forever.
"Do you trust me?"
After the concert, he’d followed you. You had turned to see the young man you’d watched just make love to an audience on stage, sing out his heart, gyrate those hips as his slacks rippled with suggestion.
And he was there in front of you with a crooked grin on his handsome face. What did he want?
With a twinkle in his eyes, he reached a hand out to you.
“Do you trust me?”
Your eyes widened a little and you took his hand.
“Yes.”
"Where did they go?"
“We need to get dressed.”
Tracy frowned and put a hand to her forehead to block out the rising sun. “Just another hour, Jess.”
“We need to get moving. Spent too long already at this camp.” Jess was already dressed after last night’s passion. Tracy sat up, holding the blanket to cover her breasts as she looked around.
“Help me dress?” Her big brown eyes gazed up at him as she stood, still holding the blanket around her in the cool morning air.
Jess nodded and picked up her dress, helping with the laces even as he regretted her covering that beautiful body he’d worshipped last night until she was sated.
“Where are my gloves?” She began to look around the campsite as Jess made sure the fire was out.
“Tracy?”
She looked up from her hunting for her gloves and saw Jess right at the fire.
“I’ve got some bad news.”
“What?”
He stabbed at the fire with a stick and held up a charred piece of green fabric. Tracy’s eyes widened at what was left of her gloves.
“I suppose we got a little carried away last night.” She smiled up at him, remembering the fervor that they had undressed each other and her eyes twinkled with amusement. “You owe me some new gloves, Jess.”
“I suppose I do.” He couldn’t help the small smile on his lips; he’d do anything for her.
"I'm not lost!"
Tracy sat on a log and watched Jess stand near his horse as he surveyed the horizon. His keen blue eyes looked from the west, where a lone dead tree stood in the landscape, to the east where a tumbleweed sat waiting for the wind to move it.
“Do you know where we’re going?”
He didn’t answer and instead looked to the south.
“Jess?” Her voice held an edge of concern. “We should have asked for directions from those ranchers.”
“I know where we are.” He insisted in a stern voice.
Tracy didn’t want to say anything more, so she turned away from him and looked to the north. There was no use arguing with a lost man; she would have to wait until he made a decision and, hopefully, put them on the right path....together.
A Teenage Dream
Elvis would never admit this to anyone. Absolutely no one. He couldn't. Not when even a suspicion could end careers.
But he had a dream. As a teenager working in the theater he's used to seeing films for free. So he's seen a Marlon Brando film of course. He would later see James Dean in East of Eden. Seeing the films... did something to Elvis. Not permanently but enough for him to have a dream.
It was raw. He's never done this with men before but having the older Dean in his mouth and the much older Brando... everywhere is a lot.
"You liking this boy?"
It wasn't meant to be a teasing question, but Elvis stilled. Then he felt Dean rub his face as he bobs up and down.
"No shame in figuring yourself out. Everyone does it."
"What was in the water up in fly over country that makes people so loose?"
Elvis wanted to ask that question but Brando started pumping in out of Elvis while pumping little Elvis in his hand. Just as he was about to burst he wakes up.
"Oh. Oh. What a strange dream."
He gets out of bed when he sees a wet spot.
"I can't let momma see this."
Hot. I would read more of this.
"Why would they do this?"
“Baby?” You cautiously opened the bedroom door after hearing a crash. The light from the bathroom highlighted an array of sparkling glass in the dark carpet. “Elvis?” Your voice was immediate concern as you carefully stepped around the detritus and into the bathroom where you saw him curled up on the floor in nothing but his robe.
“Baby.” Your arms went around his shoulders and stroked his hair, your lips brushing against the softness. “I’m here. I’m here baby.”
“They’re writin’ a goddamn book.” You heard his muffled, but strong voice, from the circle of your arms.
“They—?”
“Red…Sonny…goddammit!”
It wouldn’t do right now for you to make sense of the anger and the shame you felt that rippled from his body like waves as his body shuddered from the deep breaths he took. It was only right that you were the strong one in this moment as the shudders turned to tears and your heart broke as you held him tight.
“Shhh…I got you. I got you.” You whispered like a prayer willing him to be well, willing him to be well, willing him to be well…
"It's been awhile, hasn't it?"
You stood in front of the doors of Graceland. The party inside was in full swing with the lights emblazoned casting squares of brightness on the front driveway. But rather than go inside, your eyes wander to the sleek black Stutz parked in the driveway.
You stride over, your heels clicking on the driveway and you lean over to gaze into the driver’s side window at the red interior.
“Like what you see, honey?”
His voice has you immediately straighten even as it caresses places you haven’t been touched in years.
“I do.” You could be talking about the car, or about him.
“I didn’t think you’d show.” He brought a cigarillo to his lips and lit it, the flame of the lighter reflected for a moment in his tinted glasses.
“I’m full of surprises.”
“Been a few years, hasn’t it?”
He stepped closer to you just as you stepped closer to him; a dance as you tested each other out after all this time—something familiar, and yet not.
“Something like that.” He’s suddenly in front of you and you reach up to take the cigarillo from between his lips and lean up to press a soft kiss. He tasted like sweet tobacco and something that was all him. You missed him and as his arms slipped around you—you realized he missed you too.
He pressed you against the door of the Stutz before his hand went down and opened it. Before you knew it, you were laid out on the red upholstery as he reacquainted himself with you, and you with him.
"We've done this before."
“Mike?” His drawl was more pronounced when he shouted. “Another character named Mike?” Elvis paced the living room of his Bel Air mansion.
“Some of these names, I swear…Lonnie. Johnny. Johnny again.”
“I don’t know where they come up with them either, Elvis.” Your eyes followed his pace from the sofa to the piano and back. He was a tiger stalking a cage built with film scripts and contracts.
“Danny. Vince. Pacer. They had character.” He insisted.
“They did.” You walked up to him and put your hands on his shoulders and tried to rub out the tension. “Put the script down” Your voice purred in his ear. He stiffened as he realized the invitation in your voice. The script was suddenly on the floor and his arms were around you.
"Just let me help you forget, baby."
"There's not enough time."
Tracy glanced out the window of the dilapidated cabin, their lodgings for the evening. Jess’ dark bay horse was tethered outside as it grazed.
“He’s going to find us, Jess.” Her keen brown eyes studied the horizon for any sign of riders. A distinct cloud of dust would let her know Vince was on their trail.
Jess didn’t respond. His attention was on tending the small fire in the heart of the cabin. They would need some warmth to get through the cool night.
“I said—”
“I hear you, Tracy.” Jess stood and walked over to her. His strong, rough hands reached down and took her small, delicate hands in his and gave them a reassuring squeeze. “We’ve got some time.”
“There’s never enough time, Jess.” She whispered softly.
“We’ve gotta make the best of what we’ve got.” He placed a soft, comforting kiss on her forehead and closed his eyes. He whispered against her skin, “It’ll have to be enough this time.”
"I believe in us."
Jess reached down and offered a hand to Tracy; with one swift motion he pulled her onto the saddle and settled her in front of him. The smell of him, leather and tobacco and musk, surrounded her and made her press back against his chest.
“Ready?” His drawl rumbled against her back and she felt it low in her body.
“Ready, Jess.” She felt his left arm slip around her waist as he urged the horse forward.
They rode in silence but for the sound of the horse’s hooves on the desert dirt. The rattle of the leather and metal of the saddle and reins.
Jess sensed something in Tracy that he needed to respond to…
“He won’t find you…us. We’ll be fine.” He assured her and felt her relax against him as they rode towards the sunrise.
"And how did that work out?"
Jess gazed down at Tracy and those big brown eyes of hers that looked up at him with an earnestness and, he swore, a hint of desire.
“What are you doing here?”
“You know why, Jess.” She spoke his name like a caress.
“No, I don’t reckon I do.”
“I’ve left Vince.”
“Oh? And how did that work out?”
“Well, I’m here.” She offered, not sure if she should tell him that she left with nary a word.
Jess froze for a moment. She’d said she’d leave Vince and he knew why. For him. She had just left Vince for him.
He hoped that this worked out.
"Just be honest."
He stood there in front of his mother, his sandy blond hair a mess of curls he’d tried to style after Tony Curtis.
“What do you think, mama?”
Gladys pursed her lips and took in her boy. He was on the verge of graduation, of adulthood, and she just wanted him to look like her little boy again with his smooth mop of hair.
“Elvis…” She tried to begin. She wanted to be gentle with her boy, but sometimes he needed a firm hand. “Satnin knows best and your hair wasn’t meant to be curly.”
“Mama.” He said with a huff of defeated air leaving his lips.
His mother cupped his face in her hands and looked into his eyes, “You’re perfect just the way you are, Elvis. No need to change yourself for anyone.” She kissed his forehead and that was that.
Two Idols Coming Together
The year was 1960, and the Hollywood party was in full swing. The one time Elvis went out and it was to celebrate his return from Germany. Marlon Brando meanwhile, had little to celebrate. He's set to film Mutiny On The Bounty in October, a film he doesn't want to do. His actual passion project, One Eyed Jacks has been in production hell even though he started filming it in 1958.
Elvis still had a high from his appearance on the Frank Sinatra show and wore the exact suit from the special. He would go around table to table finally free to rub elbows with the Hollywood elite. Marlon meanwhile, is only using this party as an excuse to get out of the house, but is otherwise brooding in the corner.
As the night wore on, Elvis finally made his way to Marlon. While they met before, this was the first time they had really had a chance to talk.
"Trust me, this will work."
“Just close your eyes, Elvis.”
“You’re gonna poke me again.”
“I won’t!” You take the black eye pencil and hold it before his face. He’s so near to you and with his eyes closed you can just study the sculpted perfection; the bridge of his nose you just want to run a finger down to the tip of it as you lean in and kiss him. But for now you’re trying to get the dark lines at his eyes just right so the blue of them pops.
You press the eyeliner to the waterline and his eyelashes flutter. “It’s okay. Just keep them closed. I’ll use the mascara after and you can tell me what you think.”
Doing the makeup of your boyfriend never crossed your mind, but when you noticed it and asked him and he explained—it made sense and all you wanted was to do it for him. It was a different kind of intimacy: both of you sitting on the floor of his bedroom, surrounded by the smell of his cologne as your deft fingers outlined each of his eyes; the mascara came next. You even swept the black brush through his light eyebrows and watched them darken and suddenly you could see the rising star you’d fallen in love with.
“There.” You picked up a hand mirror and held it up for him. “Do you want to look?”
“Yeah.” His eyes opened and met yours for a moment before he looked in the mirror and that crooked smile lit up his face. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were good at this.”
Your cheeks flushed with pride; before you could say “Thank you” his soft lips pressed against yours and your eyelids fluttered shut as you lost yourself in the moment.
