The Smile

Did Ricky Nelson ever smile in public? The late rock'n roll teenage idol thrilled millions with his good looks, "dreamy" voice, guitar playing and almost lethargic mien, but I cannot recall a single occasion when he was able or inclined to use the twenty six, or whatever the precise count of muscles in his face that permit most of us to raise the corners of our mouths and crinkle the skin near the outer corners of our eyes to signal pleasure or at least offer a grin of dutiful cooperation in an appropriate social situation. Most smiles are captivating, though to widely varying degrees. They very often transform a seeming sourpuss into an "he ain't such a bad fellow" type when they're displayed spontaneously and are heartfelt expressions of a genuine conviviality. Usually we can tell, instinctively, when these human expressions of warmth that are beamed our way, are the "real thing." Not always, of course, is this true. Actors among us, both theatrical and other kinds of benign dissemblers with varying motives can and often do, out of habit or for professional reasons, shine their "little lights" upon us and we bask in the glow time and again. This is not necessarily a bad thing. The social lubricative that is a smile, whether its birth is from the "milk of human kindness" or from the wellsprings of a darker motive, is something we come to depend upon, like the open palm preceding a handshake. The two are similar; they generally speak of reassurances that no threat is intended. Great smiles are a gift not forgotten. They are so often recalled when reactions to the untimely death of a dear one are expressed. How the lost one offered his warm heart, how he or she was kindly and how that inviting visage complemented his/her loving deeds: these are the chief sources of genuine pain and grief, not the departed one's bank account, social standing, fame or power.

But to return to the power of a smile's absence as in Nelson's case: what is it about this very human phenomenon? Why do fashion models religiously refrain from smiling as they amble down a runway? Like perhaps Ricky, is the "less is more" mindset in play here? Is sexuality and/or the appeal of the apparel or "rock star" image enhanced by withholding the generosity of a smile's promise of sunshine?      Is danger and the chance of rejection (via a vacant stare) to an audience or marketplace, a way to ramp up anxiety and desire: to enthrall one's customers? The femme fatale in history, whether a Garbo, a Keely Smith, a Cher or various regal female monarchs or would-be ones, remind us that upbeat and joyful expressions are not distributed freely or without great merit of one's fans, subjects or underlings. Among males of prominence, the sorrowful poker face of a James Lipton comes to mind as well as Buster Keaton's "Great Stoneface" and Edward R. Murow's "weight-of-the-world" expression that all helped to make them memorable figures. But were their infrequent, rare or even non-existent smiles a calculation of power or just a natural development of temperament, concentrated thoughtfulness and seriousness of purpose not intended necessarily to intimidate? Still, in American society, the prevalent bias is toward a social informality and a lightheartedness, however artificial, that places the unsmiling as seemingly judgmental types who are silently disapproving of something (made more unnerving by their lack of explication or any assurance, thirsted for by many an insecure smiler or one needful of being a "smilee").

We long for and love the smiler, in short. A green light of welcome is communicated, perhaps like the earliest loving gazes of our mothers or the first validation of one's attraction to an adolescent friend of the opposite sex whose first risibility meant for us may well be a priceless memory. Mystery can still reside, of course, in a smile or "das Lacheln" as the Germans call it. Mona Lisa's almost indescribably nuanced expression stirs minds and hearts then and now in a way that makes even the most fixated atheist, amenable at least, to the concept of immortality. The overwhelming attraction for some of the mile wide smile of a Julia Roberts, the devastating one of a Clark Gable or the repetitive, but for a good while the comforting one of a Jimmy Carter, all had qualities that were more complex than a mother's enveloping one of unconditional love. Sexuality, unbridled power, a self-comforting strategy (perhaps in Carter's case) all were some of the components that did keep them alive in our memories and hearts and continue to do so. They all shared our common humanity naturally, and yet each one was and is a unique soul, renewing, each time their gifts were bestowed on us, their expression of individuality that delighted us and spoke to that fundamental human "sine qua non": recognition of a loving other and the opportunity to love and imaginarily, be loved. The smile is simply the most potent entity we have to see others, be seen and to give of ourselves. "You're Never Fully Dressed Without a Smile" was one of the more popular numbers in the famed Broadway musical "Annie" of more than thirty years ago. The title is a fine statement about the duality of a smile and it may be instructive here. Though it teaches about smiling as a close cousin to good grooming and sartorial success, it also, intentionally or not, tells of the power of "clothing" one in a smile, that is, to actually conceal and provide a kind of armor for ourselves with this very special human gift.