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Sep 1, 2008Musicals and Twisted Jim Do Not MixI've told the stories over and over again about my experience with musicals. Twisted Parents bought season tickets to Starlight Theater when I was a child. I remember seeing The King and I, The Music Man, Annie and The Sound of Music all with second rate touring companies mixed with local talent. It was exactly as awesome as it sounds. Okay, this looks like I'm blaming my issues with musicals on my parents, or more specifically Twisted Mom. But that's really not the case. I think it is a deep-seeded fear of people spontaneously breaking into song. And when I say "fear" I mean I am deeply afraid of spontaneous singing to explain your feelings. It's almost funny with how much I love music that I suffer from Sociomelophobia. Twisted Wife took me to see Rent at our local music hall years ago when we started dating. I acted like it was okay, but I can still feel the dread just thinking about it now. At the time, I thought "it's a rock opera, it can't be that bad." Then I remembered how Tommy made my skin crawl. The only difference with Tommy is that the music can actually stand on it's own as rock. I don't think there are many people who will argue that Jonathan Larson is not Pete Townsend... anyone? Then, there was the whole Moulin Rouge episode. I watched it after all the hype and acclaim, thinking I would get over my fear. I really wanted to think it was good... it wasn't. I even watched it a second time to make sure I hadn't missed that one scene that made it a spectacular movie. Instead, it was four hours of my life wasted. This weekend, Twisted Wife stopped at the Red Box and brought home yet another musical hoping to erase my fears. She thought, and rightfully so, that the subject matter of this musical would finally make me see the light. This silver bullet was Tim Burton's Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street. Granted, TW hit the mark thinking a bloody mess of a musical may turn me on to the genre. But, she was wrong. No matter where you're sitting, it's still a musical. It could have been written by Kafka, directed by David Lynch, starred Crispin Glover with music by Trent Reznor and it would have still been a musical that was nothing more than cinematic masturbation. Thank god TW slept through the whole thing so she didn't have to witness my disgust.
posted by Jim at 11:47 PM
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