I have blogged about the true passion of my life before, but I feel compelled to so again. No, it’s not Paul Krugman–he’s my current crush. And no, it’s not even Alan Rickman–though he is hotness personified.
It is, in one word, the theatre. Yes, I know that’s technically two words, but I don’t care. If I am to be even more specific, my passion is musical theatre. Yes, singing, dancing, and…JAZZ HANDS!
I am not a big fan of movies in general because most of them have no resemblance to real life. In addition, the plots usually cause me to violently roll my eyeballs–either at the stupidity, the predictability, or the chin-hitting-fist aspect (you know, something happens because if it doesn’t, the movie would have to end).
Given my hearty disdain for predictable movies, it’s really difficult for me to admit that I like musical theatre. I mean, when you want to talk about cheese–you only have to turn to Mary Poppins and her spoonful of sugar. Predictability of plot? It’s almost mandatory in musical theatre. As for adherence to real life, well, I’ve never seen people spontaneously burst into song en masse. Two gangs are about to have a fight, but they take the time to sing and dance first. Hey, maybe that’s the secret to world peace. JAZZ HANDS!
It’s not easy for a hard-bitten cynic like myself to maintain street cred if I admit, aloud, to watching The Sound of Music every year when I was a kid for about ten years in a row. I imagined myself as Maria, but only because she had the juiciest adult female role. I wasn’t interested in any of the kids or being the Baroness (at that time). Of course, it didn’t even enter my mind that I, as an Asian girl, could ever be in a musical. It simply wasn’t done, and again, no role models.
So I kept it hidden. I stuck to more acceptable forms of creative outlets like writing poetry. I graduated to writing dark prose and occasionally performing. I did some chorus work in high school, but not much singing in public after that. I did take dance lessons (tap, ballet, and jazz) from the age of two to the age of fourteen, and I played the cello from eight until eighteen. So, I was involved with more physical manifestations of the arts when I was a mere youth, but I put away childish things once I ‘grew up’.
Then came Rent in 2006. Yes, it was problematic in some ways, but, oh my god! Look at the diversity of colors and personalities. No, this was not my grandfather’s musical, and it showed me that, yes, I can dare to dream about Broadway.
These characters were more real than any others I’ve seen in a musical. Druggies, gays, musicians, bisexuals, trisexuals….This was a musical celebrating life even as it was imbued with the fear of AIDs. I bought the soundtrack (two CDs!) and played it over and over for a solid month.
Plus, it’s a song that co-mingles Pablo Neruda, sodomy, and yoga! Brilliant!
When the inevitable auditions for the touring companies started, I dreamed of going. I couldn’t get up my nerve, though. Audition is the single most nerve-wracking thing I’ve done in my life, bar none. Not even moving to California to get my MA could match the anxiety I felt every time I performed a monologue or sang a song in order to make it into a show. While there is nothing more exhilarating than performing in front of a live audience, there is nothing more devastating than fucking up an audition.
Check that. There is one thing worse–nailing an audition and not getting called back. That is infinitely worse. However, bombing an audition is a close second. No matter how many times I practiced a piece, I never gave my best effort in the actual audition. It didn’t help that I got typecast as the older, more matronly person. This is pre-tats, of course, as it would be difficult to hide them.
Still. My self-proclaim exile from musical theatre dampened my joie de vivre. Any time I saw a movie musical, I would feel that flame burning inside. Oddly enough, when I saw Chicago on Broadway, I was less than impressed with the story, but I loved it, anyway. I literally danced in the streets afterwards, giddy from the experience.
Back to musical movies. I saw Moulin Rouge in San Francisco with my ex, his bro, and his bro’s, erm, let’s just say…um, never mind. It’s not pertinent. Anyway, I was of two minds before seeing it. I love musicals! That was one mind. I hate Nicole Kidman! That was two mind. Then, I saw Ewan McGregor, and I was of one mind. Holy mother of god, but he is hot! Plus, he could actually sing. Yummy.
I loved this movie despite its numerous flaws (predictable plot, contradictory actions, lame cliches, frantic pace, and flashing lights), and I bought the soundtrack to this as well. Actually, my ex bought it for me, but that is neither here nor there. I listened to the CD over and over and over again, as is my wont. I also bought the second CD, but it wasn’t as good.
Love it or hate it–and plenty of people hated it–the movie is a brilliant mashup of eighties’ songs along with gorgeous scenery. Oh, and the settings, aren’t bad, either. Surprisingly, I actually cried during the movie. In addition, there is one scene where I had to brace myself a bit because I feared for Satine. I will link the video clip from the movie. It’s the El Tango de Roxanne, an inspired send-up of The Police song.
I ordered my best friend to see it. When she did, she cautiously said she had some problems with it, to which I rattled off the aforementioned flaws. She thought it was funny that I could be so passionate about the movie when I dissed it so thoroughly, but that’s what musical theatre does to me.
Then, out came a little musical called, Hedwig and the Angry Inch. I didn’t see it for the longest time (had other things to do, like move back to MN). When I finally succumbed to teh evilz of Netflix, I placed this DVD on my queue. Which I keep at fifty, thank you, very much. It was with much anticipation that I watched it, and it was with much disappointment that I finished it. While I loved the music (loved!) and, yes I bought the soundtrack–both of them. Yes, I listened over and over and over again. In order. Which is why I can’t get an iPod. No random shuffle for me (sorry, Juno, I know you love your iPod). While I was on YouTube just now, browsing for different musicals, I came across clips from this movie. I actually loved the last ten minutes of the movie, but it was too little too late. However, here is the best song from the movie: Midnight Radio. If you’re actually going to see the movie (and haven’t yet), though, then I would recommend not clicking on the link.
What do these disparate musicals have in common? Their music moves my soul in ways that nothing else does. I want that in my life, and I want it now. To that end, I am researching different local musical theatres to see what’s available. I don’t want to do Oliver or, god forbid, Miss Saigon. If all else fails, I can just write one my damn self. Script Frenzy month is coming up (April). I started the quintessential Asian musical last year during Script Frenzy month, so maybe I can actually write a whole one this year. Stay tuned. I’ll let you know how it goes.
Finally, here is the song that is my title from A Chorus Line. Enjoy.
One of the zillions of beauties of ipods (podcasts are my current craze) is that you can listen to music in whichever order you like. Random shuffle is optional.
I really think you should ease yourself into it. I will continue to nag you about it now & then.
iPod, too many options! Give it your best shot. I, like many other, am susceptible to suggestion. I probably would weaken over time.