Or interpretive dance numbers. Preferably in a nude coloured body stocking.
My favourite movie of all time is Footloose.
And I mean really, what story is more compelling than that of Kevin Bacon healing a town through the power of dance. (That scene. When the skanky hoe gives him the music box. It gets me right here folks. Right here. Every time.)
One of my favourite school memories is seeing a girl in the year above me audition (for something I can not recall. Maybe to perform at assembly? I am quite certain the Ladies’ College I attended never holding anything as pedestrian, as equality laden, as public school as a talent night) in a tutu. She wasn’t a ‘big girl’ as my mother would call someone fat, but she certainly wasn’t light-of-foot either. In fact, sitting on the floor in the hall as she danced on stage you could feel the floor vibrate under you with each plie. But it was the wobbling boobs that got us all giggling until it was uproarious laughter and you could just see her wishing a fast return of the black plague to knock her down dead toot sweet. God forbid the eating disorder that followed that ill-thought-out-idea for the poor girl. I mean she was dancing about five years after she should have been.
Which brings me so segue-like, arms outstretched, imploring gaze on my face, and ‘feeling it’ so desperately in my ‘frame’ to So You Think You Can Dance.
So much can be said about this show.
Is it that it captures a particular time or era, like:
Welcome Back Cotter
The Odd Couple
I Love Lucy
I Dream of Jeannie
The Nanny and the Professor (GOD how I wanted a cape just like that blue one she wore)
The Partridge Family
The Good Life
To The Manor Born
Eight is Enough
The Cosby Show
A Country Practice
Sons and Daughters
Who’s the Boss
did for their era?
I don’t think so.
But GOOD LORD I watched a lot of TV as a child.
Is it because it showcases people freakishly good at something so many of us can’t do? That is shines a light on cohorts of the population otherwise relegated to rooms upstairs rickety staircases that have a weird smell that dwells somewhere between sweaty socks, Impulse deodorant and a load of wet washing left in the machine too long?
That it provides endless fodder for you to mock and deride while not so secretly you’re thinking how the fuck can they move like that?
For example, this aired in Oz tonight (I KNOW. Do NOT get me started on the whole ‘this program aired in the US MONTHS ago and considering it is a competition and we all know have that white man’s magic internet contraption it doesn’t take much to kill any suspense for us audiences on the other side of the world and seriously programmers if we can have the same episodes of Californication why the effing hell can’t we see shows based on a competition in a timely fashion???’ See, you started me already):
It doesn’t seem to translate as well on You Tube but on the tele tonight it was simply astounding to see.
One thing I will say is going for this show. It does NOT disappoint with its predilection of jazz hands: