This is not newsworthy. We shouldn't even be talking about it.
The first rule of the Sons of Lee Marvin is you don't talk about the Sons of Lee Marvin.
This could very well be the credo for the not-so-secret secret society of the Sons of Lee Marvin. It could be. But we'd never know.
It is the brainchild of wonderfully eccentric director Jim Jarmusch, who I last saw encircling Jason Schwartzman on a chopper-handlebar Schwinn on an episode of the HBO series Bored to Death. I originally hoped I would be expounding on some pretty incredible and top-secret information if Jarmusch was willing to discuss it at length, but it did not seem to be the case.
"I'm not at liberty to divulge information about the organization, other than to tell you that it does exist," Jarmusch had said in a 1989 interview designed to expose the intricacies of the society to the public. Then he went on to reveal the various members, including actors and musicians Tom Waits and John Lurie, the activities of the group such as secret meetings and screenings of Lee Marvin movies, and the only requirement for admission—that the prospective member bear a familial resemblance to the iconic actor. "Other than that, I can't talk about it," Jarmusch said.
Other members have publicly sworn themselves to secrecy as well, supplying only vague details of the establishment. In 1986, Tom Waits told Rolling Stone that the Sons of Lee Marvin falls "somewhere between the Elks Club and the Academy Awards." From what I can gather, this means it is both a joke, like the latter, and an excuse for aging men to get out of their houses and away from their wives, like the former. Despite its tongue-in-cheek quality, Waits had professional business cards made. Now I'm no longer curious; I'm just jealous.
Not everyone has found this funny. But there is a joke to tell. One night, Waits walked into a bar. After a while, the man who had been staring at him all night spoke up:
"What's all this bullshit about the Sons of Lee Marvin?"
"Well, it's a secret organization, and I'm not supposed to talk about it."
"I don't like it."
"What's it to you?"
"I'm Lee Marvin's son."
If you're like me, you're too young to know who Lee Marvin is, and that's okay. The interesting part about the "secret society" is its complete lack of secrecy. I don't know about anyone else, but I like the irony of keeping something secret by announcing its existence. It's exactly the type of thing Jim Jarmusch would cook up in his spare time.
The Beatles did the same thing to the public with the "Paul is Dead" hoax, and it did wonderful things for their record sales. If you think it's just a trick so they can make money, it's probably not so. For them, it is a reason to hang out with their friends and watch movies. For us, it's just entertaining. But if you are interested in making a charitable donation to the Sons of Lee Marvin, please go rent Stranger Than Paradise, and pick up Waits's Mule Variations at your local record store, or at least illegally download them from the Internet, because you're missing out. I've already made myself an honorary member because of my undying support of the arts.
To sum up: there's nothing to tell because we already know. And if you didn't before, you do now.
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