· Image Search

Now, when we say "Neighbourhood Hag," it's quite possible that the first image you flash to is of a crowd of neighbourhood hags, crowding around Edward Scissorhands for the chance to get their stiff, shellacked hair cut into trichological topiaries -- and maybe, of the haggiest one of all, who mostly stayed in her house playing the organ but occasionally emerged to warn all the other gals on the cul-de-sac that Edward was probably a demon of some sort. But, believe it or not, Beth Grant was not in that particular suburban coven. (Perhaps you're thinking of Kathy Baker, Caroline Aaron, or O-Lan Jones?) She probably should have been. Perhaps Tim Burton thought putting Beth Grant on the scene would pull focus from all the other crazy bitches, Grant being an expert at playing characters much crazier and bitchier than a mere Conchata Ferrell could ever hope.

That really is the only possible reason Grant could have been left out of the Scissorhands tableau. She excels playing characters who are...to put it kindly, touched. In the first season of Friends, she was Lizzy, the homeless woman to whom Phoebe (Lisa Kudrow) tries to give what she thinks is ill-gotten cash (even before which, Lizzy was already calling Phoebe "Weird Girl"). A late-era Six Feet Under episode had her mistaking a herd of helium-filled sex dolls floating up to the heavens for the righteous, being called home for the Rapture; she wandered into traffic -- the better for the Lord to see her and Rapture her up, too -- and got mowed down for her troubles. Well, she ended up getting called home that day, just not the way she thought. And...not to invite angry emails from our Southern readers (hi, y'all! Bless your hearts), complaining that just because a name is seldom bestowed upon a child born on the "Left Coast" does not mean its bearer is automatically a simpleton, but: "Blanche," "Doris," "Mildred Luna," "Mama Iris Bailey," "Mary Ann Marie Beetle," "Dorene," "Arlene," "Olline," "Kitty Hughes," "Kitty Farmer," "Farm Woman," "Sissy Hickey," "Cora Mae Cobb," "Shayla Beaumont," and "Melvina Pou." Only once in a blue moon do you find a Dr. Cora Mae Cobb chairing the Art History department at Vassar. She's much more likely to be shuffling down the sidewalk with bedraggled hair, in a soiled housedress, complaining to anyone who'll listen that Roy Cohn stole her dentures.

Credit Richard Kelly (his generation's Tim Burton? Maybe not quite yet) for making Grant so indelible as that other neighbourhood nuisance, the judgmental biddy, in Donnie Darko. If we were still picturing her in her tinfoil helmet, as on Friends, we might not believe Grant as the sort of woman who'd preside over a child beauty pageant (as in the current Little Miss Sunshine). However, thanks to Kelly, we'll never forget how devastating it can be for Grant to doubt one's commitment to Sparkle Motion. Hearing that...it's like one can imagine what it must be like for a Mennonite to be shunned.