WENT TO “SEA WORLD” YESTERDAY. Saw dolphins, giant turtles, various marine life. Nothing to write home about, really. Still, it beats workin.’

I spent most of today at the resort pool. Just swam and swam and swam. Not burned real bad. Used lots of sunscreen, but I feel a sting in a small part of my back where I couldn’t reach with my fingers to cover. Otherwise, more tired than burned. Went to Waffle House afterwards and ordered way too much food.

I’d take photos and post them, but the only thing I’ve seen worth commemorating is this Waffle House cheeseburger. And you can probably find good-looking cheeseburgers in New York or New Jersey. But I have to say Orlando is a fun place to visit. Resorts are also nice, though tourist children are annoying.

I plan to drive home tomorrow morning. Since I was too tired to go anywhere tonight, I rented a movie from the front desk, and watched it on the VCR in the timeshare. “Atlantic City.” The 1980 version by Louis Malle, starring Burt Lancaster and Susan Sarandon. It will probably make my top ten for 1980, not because 1980 is a horrible year for movies (It’s a very good year, actually), but because the movie itself is good. Let me try to write about it before losing consciousness.

Somewhere in Atlantic City there is a guy named Lou. Thirty years ago, when the town was less wannabe-Disneyland and more like a resort for gangsters, Lou knew some people. Powerful, wealthy, dangerous people. Lou got himself a reputation as a sort of dangerous fella himself, but in truth, he was a mouse. Maybe he kept a gun, but he never killed anybody with it.

So the years have gone by, and now, Lou has become a relic. The man himself hasn’t changed; he still runs numbers for seedy dives. But the circles he once belonged to have either died or moved on. The numbers racket ain’t what it used to be, neither, what with politicans tearing down the old Atlantic City and trying to replace it with more “family-friendly” entertainment. The well has run dry. To make ends meet, Lou works part-time as a houseboy for an ailing ex-beauty pageant winner. In exchange for rubbing her sore feet and taking her dog down the boardwalk for a pedicure, she lets him stay in her boarding house rent-free. But even though they’ve been with each other for years, their conversations are strained with animosity and resentment.

Lou asks her for five dollars, and her curt reply is, “You want some cigarettes? Go steal ‘em, Mister Big Shot. Mister Ten Most Wanted.”

And that’s how Lou sifts out his remaining days, enduring abuse and earning meager bucks as a bookie. Well, he has one other thing that keeps him going. Every night, he looks out his apartment window into the neighbor’s kitchen, and sees the beautiful young woman who lives there washing herself in the sink. It’s the same routine each night: She strips herself from the waist up, then rubs slices of lemon all over her body. The movie never explicitly states whether Lou’s attraction to the girl is romantic or pure lust, but I don’t think it’s the latter.

It has to do with the way Malle depicts Sarandon’s washing scene. Above all, it’s tasteful; her breasts are always concealed by her arms or by the windowsill. I think this is also how Lou sees her, as a beautiful, youthful, vibrant creature, not necessarily a sex object.

Now, of course, downtrodden Lou eventually crosses paths with the young woman. The movie takes its time bringing them together, and that’s a good thing. Otherwise, the unlikely pairing would not seem so logical and believable. Malle unfolds the plot slowly, with long scenes emphasizing dialogue and almost no background music. As a result, he successfully leeches away all the glamour of the setting, leaving only Atlantic City on a street level. The city of myth becomes devoid of all its mythical characteristics, and becomes less the dwelling of big spenders and high rollers than just another place where ordinary folks get up every morning and go to work to earn a living.

But this movie isn’t a drab leftover from the angst-ridden 60’s and 70’s. It isn’t “Midnight Cowboy,” where the main characters fail to find their dreams in New York City. Lou is already a failure, a washed-up old coot. But in the course of “Atlantic City,” he gets back a little feeling of respect and power. On the path to this re-awakening, he finds out that the girl he’s infatuated with ain’t necessarily as pure as he may have thought. Lou had long-wondered: Did she wash herself with those lemons as part of some exotic ritual? The truth, as it turns out, is much more practical than exotic. And why should that be such a big surprise in Malle’s city on the boardwalk? Here, the people are too concerned with survival to find time for being an old fool’s fantasy.

* * *

Writer’s note: I wasn’t familiar with Malle’s work prior to this movie, but I assume he’s European because of his restraint in directing. For example, there’s a chase scene in “Atlantic City,” and from the page, it probably could have been done either as comedy or hyper-intense. Instead, Malle takes a more detached approach, shooting it almost like a documentary. Notice how the last fifteen or so seconds of that particular sequence, which are very important, are shown as a single take, and in medium shot. No violent cuts to close-ups. It’s all very interesting.

Also, kudos to Malle, his screenwriter, and the casting director for creating/casting the hippie character as vile, immoral, drug-dealing, polygamous scum. He had no redeeming qualities, which is how it should be.