babysitting, astaire, hurricane
Sep. 1st, 2005 02:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fearlesstemp.i. adventures in baby-sitting
I cannot stand make-believe games with little kids. They're almost as boring as the conversations I used to have with my co-worker Carol at Evil Acronym Company (Carol used to talk about her dental work a lot), and are more taxing because I am really forced to participate in make-believe games, while I can just nod and smile my way through boring conversations. One cannot nod and smile oneself through a game of hotel with an eight-year-old. But, then again, there are occasional rewards, like the other day, when my cousin Emma very seriously told me that her pretend name was Lucky Windswept, which makes me want to laugh two days after the fact. I mean: Lucky Windswept! And she came up with it IMMEDIATELY, like, didn't even have to think about it. Maybe she'll grow up to be a country singer or romance novelist or something.
Also while baby-sitting, I had to deal with one of Emma's little friends, who really irritated me. I hate it when little kids irritate me. First of all, it's irritating. Second of all, I feel like a louse for being irritated by a child who should have endless promise, potential, etc. But I couldn't help myself with this little girl - she refused to eat her lunch until everyone was seated and then, when I told her I would be a couple of minutes, told me she would use the extra time to pray. Wow, do I sound like a heathen! "The girl had good manners AND she gave thanks to our Lord! What a deadbeat!" But it's not what she said, of course, but how she said it - very Eddie Haskell.
But anyway, what followed made it worth it. Because her little friend prayed, Emma felt the need to pray, and because I'm a mature 25-year-old woman, I succumbed to peer pressure and prayed myself, with a note on the end for the hurricane victims. This caused Emma and her friend to try to one-up each other with stories about natural disasters and hurricanes until Emma started sharing the tale of how her grandfather died in a hurricane. She was halfway through the story when she remembered that her grandfather was also MY grandfather, and so she threw in the, "Oh, it was my grandfather Bud" aside so that I'd think it was her grandfather on her father's side. Only I'm pretty sure that he didn't die in a hurricane either. And I'm positive that his name wasn't Bud - Emma's father comes from a New England super-WASPy family. I don't think Bud is a common family name among such people.
Other highlights from baby-sitting: Huge meltdowny fight between Emma and her little friend, followed by a cheesy talk about feelings between Emma and me related to the meltdowny fight, and Emma still likes my singing, as seen by the fact that she would only eat her chicken nuggets after I sang (if you're wondering about my song choice, I went for a modification of Jingle Bells/Batman smells - I threw in a line or two about chicken nuggets. It was an improv thing, like jazz). I wonder when her ears will mature to the point that she recognizes my voice to be as appalling as it really is.
.ii. buy this boxed set
Is everyone aware that they have released an Astaire/Rogers boxed set? It is truly righteous, and I believe everyone with a passing interest in the films should pick it up, because the features seem to be good and the movies in the box are pretty excellent, with the possible exception of The Barkleys of Broadway, which I saw once and remember not liking that tremendously. But the others! Swing Time! Shall We Dance! Top Hat! Follow the Fleet! GREAT stuff.
I've been meaning to write a big Astaire/Rogers post for about a year and a half, and I'm going to have to let that dream go and just blather on in short spurts in random entries, because the full essay is probably never going to be written. I'll try to do my best short version.
I don't particularly like musicals. I liked Chicago a lot, and I get a kick out of Singing in the Rain, but for the most part, musicals just bore me and make me want to roll my eyes about the ridiculousness. Even later Fred Astaire ones leave me cold - I know The Band Wagon is supposed to be incredibly awesome, and actually earned a spot on TCM's The Essentials, but I had to turn it off forty minutes in because I found it to be (imho) embarrassingly bad. I probably had a more powerful reaction because it wasn't just any musical - it was a musical with Fred Astaire. And I love Fred Astaire! How dare he be in a movie I dislike? It felt like a personal betrayal.
But anyway: Astaire/Rogers. The plots are ridiculous and full of holes, the scripts range from witty to so corny you want to cry, the costumes are for the most part pretty great, there are occasional cringe-worthy moments related to cultural stereotypes, but the dancing - the dancing! It's as incredible as you would imagine, especially in my personal favorite of all the Astaire/Rogers movies I've seen - Swing Time. But it's difficult to talk about dancing - how can you articulate how great Pick Myself Up is as a number? I can't. It's fun, it's fast, it gives you a real idea of what it means to be light on your feet.
Swing Time also has one of my favorite songs, A Fine Romance. I think a lot of its greatness is in the performance of the two stars, but I still think the lyrics are pretty funny, kind of unexpectedly sarcastic for a romantic comedy:
GINGER:
A fine romance, with no kisses.
A fine romance, my friend, this is.
We should be like a couple of hot tomatoes.
But you're as cold as yesterday's mashed potatoes.
A fine romance, you won't nestle.
A fine romance, you won't wrestle.
I've never mussed a crease in your blue serge pants.
I never had the chance.
This is a fine romance.
A fine romance, my good fellow.
You take romance. I'll take jello.
You're calmer than the seals in the Arctic Ocean.
At least they flap their fins to express emotion.
A fine romance, with no quarrels,
With no insults, and all the morals.
You're just as hard to land as the Ile de France.
I never get the chance.
This is a fine romance.
FRED:
A fine romance, with no kisses.
A fine romance, my friend, this is.
True love should have the thrills that a healthy crime has.
We don't have half the thrills that "The March of Time" has.
A fine romance, with no clinches.
A fine romance, with no pinches.
You never give the orchids I send a glance.
No, you like cactus plants.
This is a fine romance.
Swing Time also has one of the most romantic exchanges in the Astaire/Rogers films, for my money, even if it does come on the heels of a twisted mistaken engagement (Lucky is going to marry his hometown girl, Penny has accepted the proposal of a bandleader who had been after her, but of course they really love each other. Of course!):
Penny: Well, it's all decided now.
Lucky: For always?
Penny: (nodding) Yes. I'm going to marry Ricky when he takes the band to Bermuda in the spring. I'm sorry I lost my temper a while ago.
Lucky: You had every right to.
Penny: Oh no I hadn't, no right at all.
Lucky: Well, I thought you had. Goodbye. (She turns to leave) (As she fingers her bride-to-be ring) Penny! Oh, never mind, I just want to wish you good-luck and all that.
Penny: And all what?
Lucky: Whatever you want.
Penny: Does she dance very beautifully?
Lucky: Who?
Penny: The girl you're in love with.
Lucky: Yes, very. [Of course, he is referring to Penny here, not Margaret.]
Penny: (checking) The girl you're engaged to, the girl you're going to marry.
Lucky: Oh, I don't know. I've danced with you. I'm never going to dance again.
What follows is one of the most beautiful of their dance numbers, Never Gonna Dance, in which they use this two-tiered Art Deco set - really, you have to see it! Also, Ginger has a great dress.
I totally only realized just now, after putting that exchange in this entry, the significance of the first names of the two characters. Lucky and Penny. Holy crap, I am so not insightful, I should not be allowed to write LJ entries about anything!
.iii. katrina
Thoughts and prayers to everyone affected.
I cannot stand make-believe games with little kids. They're almost as boring as the conversations I used to have with my co-worker Carol at Evil Acronym Company (Carol used to talk about her dental work a lot), and are more taxing because I am really forced to participate in make-believe games, while I can just nod and smile my way through boring conversations. One cannot nod and smile oneself through a game of hotel with an eight-year-old. But, then again, there are occasional rewards, like the other day, when my cousin Emma very seriously told me that her pretend name was Lucky Windswept, which makes me want to laugh two days after the fact. I mean: Lucky Windswept! And she came up with it IMMEDIATELY, like, didn't even have to think about it. Maybe she'll grow up to be a country singer or romance novelist or something.
Also while baby-sitting, I had to deal with one of Emma's little friends, who really irritated me. I hate it when little kids irritate me. First of all, it's irritating. Second of all, I feel like a louse for being irritated by a child who should have endless promise, potential, etc. But I couldn't help myself with this little girl - she refused to eat her lunch until everyone was seated and then, when I told her I would be a couple of minutes, told me she would use the extra time to pray. Wow, do I sound like a heathen! "The girl had good manners AND she gave thanks to our Lord! What a deadbeat!" But it's not what she said, of course, but how she said it - very Eddie Haskell.
But anyway, what followed made it worth it. Because her little friend prayed, Emma felt the need to pray, and because I'm a mature 25-year-old woman, I succumbed to peer pressure and prayed myself, with a note on the end for the hurricane victims. This caused Emma and her friend to try to one-up each other with stories about natural disasters and hurricanes until Emma started sharing the tale of how her grandfather died in a hurricane. She was halfway through the story when she remembered that her grandfather was also MY grandfather, and so she threw in the, "Oh, it was my grandfather Bud" aside so that I'd think it was her grandfather on her father's side. Only I'm pretty sure that he didn't die in a hurricane either. And I'm positive that his name wasn't Bud - Emma's father comes from a New England super-WASPy family. I don't think Bud is a common family name among such people.
Other highlights from baby-sitting: Huge meltdowny fight between Emma and her little friend, followed by a cheesy talk about feelings between Emma and me related to the meltdowny fight, and Emma still likes my singing, as seen by the fact that she would only eat her chicken nuggets after I sang (if you're wondering about my song choice, I went for a modification of Jingle Bells/Batman smells - I threw in a line or two about chicken nuggets. It was an improv thing, like jazz). I wonder when her ears will mature to the point that she recognizes my voice to be as appalling as it really is.
.ii. buy this boxed set
Is everyone aware that they have released an Astaire/Rogers boxed set? It is truly righteous, and I believe everyone with a passing interest in the films should pick it up, because the features seem to be good and the movies in the box are pretty excellent, with the possible exception of The Barkleys of Broadway, which I saw once and remember not liking that tremendously. But the others! Swing Time! Shall We Dance! Top Hat! Follow the Fleet! GREAT stuff.
I've been meaning to write a big Astaire/Rogers post for about a year and a half, and I'm going to have to let that dream go and just blather on in short spurts in random entries, because the full essay is probably never going to be written. I'll try to do my best short version.
I don't particularly like musicals. I liked Chicago a lot, and I get a kick out of Singing in the Rain, but for the most part, musicals just bore me and make me want to roll my eyes about the ridiculousness. Even later Fred Astaire ones leave me cold - I know The Band Wagon is supposed to be incredibly awesome, and actually earned a spot on TCM's The Essentials, but I had to turn it off forty minutes in because I found it to be (imho) embarrassingly bad. I probably had a more powerful reaction because it wasn't just any musical - it was a musical with Fred Astaire. And I love Fred Astaire! How dare he be in a movie I dislike? It felt like a personal betrayal.
But anyway: Astaire/Rogers. The plots are ridiculous and full of holes, the scripts range from witty to so corny you want to cry, the costumes are for the most part pretty great, there are occasional cringe-worthy moments related to cultural stereotypes, but the dancing - the dancing! It's as incredible as you would imagine, especially in my personal favorite of all the Astaire/Rogers movies I've seen - Swing Time. But it's difficult to talk about dancing - how can you articulate how great Pick Myself Up is as a number? I can't. It's fun, it's fast, it gives you a real idea of what it means to be light on your feet.
Swing Time also has one of my favorite songs, A Fine Romance. I think a lot of its greatness is in the performance of the two stars, but I still think the lyrics are pretty funny, kind of unexpectedly sarcastic for a romantic comedy:
GINGER:
A fine romance, with no kisses.
A fine romance, my friend, this is.
We should be like a couple of hot tomatoes.
But you're as cold as yesterday's mashed potatoes.
A fine romance, you won't nestle.
A fine romance, you won't wrestle.
I've never mussed a crease in your blue serge pants.
I never had the chance.
This is a fine romance.
A fine romance, my good fellow.
You take romance. I'll take jello.
You're calmer than the seals in the Arctic Ocean.
At least they flap their fins to express emotion.
A fine romance, with no quarrels,
With no insults, and all the morals.
You're just as hard to land as the Ile de France.
I never get the chance.
This is a fine romance.
FRED:
A fine romance, with no kisses.
A fine romance, my friend, this is.
True love should have the thrills that a healthy crime has.
We don't have half the thrills that "The March of Time" has.
A fine romance, with no clinches.
A fine romance, with no pinches.
You never give the orchids I send a glance.
No, you like cactus plants.
This is a fine romance.
Swing Time also has one of the most romantic exchanges in the Astaire/Rogers films, for my money, even if it does come on the heels of a twisted mistaken engagement (Lucky is going to marry his hometown girl, Penny has accepted the proposal of a bandleader who had been after her, but of course they really love each other. Of course!):
Penny: Well, it's all decided now.
Lucky: For always?
Penny: (nodding) Yes. I'm going to marry Ricky when he takes the band to Bermuda in the spring. I'm sorry I lost my temper a while ago.
Lucky: You had every right to.
Penny: Oh no I hadn't, no right at all.
Lucky: Well, I thought you had. Goodbye. (She turns to leave) (As she fingers her bride-to-be ring) Penny! Oh, never mind, I just want to wish you good-luck and all that.
Penny: And all what?
Lucky: Whatever you want.
Penny: Does she dance very beautifully?
Lucky: Who?
Penny: The girl you're in love with.
Lucky: Yes, very. [Of course, he is referring to Penny here, not Margaret.]
Penny: (checking) The girl you're engaged to, the girl you're going to marry.
Lucky: Oh, I don't know. I've danced with you. I'm never going to dance again.
What follows is one of the most beautiful of their dance numbers, Never Gonna Dance, in which they use this two-tiered Art Deco set - really, you have to see it! Also, Ginger has a great dress.
I totally only realized just now, after putting that exchange in this entry, the significance of the first names of the two characters. Lucky and Penny. Holy crap, I am so not insightful, I should not be allowed to write LJ entries about anything!
.iii. katrina
Thoughts and prayers to everyone affected.
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no subject
Date: 2005-10-10 05:52 pm (UTC)