Glee
I haz two dreamwith codes if anyone still wants one. Out of the blue, I also haz twin vidbunnies for which I am so going to hell but it feels good. And the pilot for Glee, which I’ve watched three times already and that’s not counting the fast-forward-between-musical-numbers viewings.
It was a pilot, it had pilotness. Uncertain pacing and everyone but the two leads a complete stereotype. The sassy black girl, the silent asian chick, the long-suffering wheelchaired geek. The fashion-victim gay kid, the penny-pinching principal and a whole coven of very scary women (someone has issues) from virgin cheerleader, through vitality sucking wife, through bitch squadron boss to OCD spinster. And Rachel who by all the laws of show musicals should have been the ingénue female lead, the Ruby Keeler to Finn’s Dick Powell, but in this story the lead couple was homosocial. Not girl meets boy but man meets boy he used to be and I should hate them for being so obviously the centre of the writer’s attention but both actors were unassuming enough that neither character seemed aware of their special status. I should especially hate Finn who was written to be good at everything from singing to quarterbacking and a hero to boot but at least he was a working class hero and his thing with his mother made me think of John Connor (TERMINATOR: THE MUSICAL) so that was all right.
The thing I liked best was that for all that it played as arch and self-knowing the ending was pure put-on-a-show with everybody playing an equal part in singing their hearts out. Not because it was better than being waterboarded, not for hip juxtapositon of Winehouse and 42nd Street but for the sheer amateur joy of making music. Via (naturally) the traditional irony of cast members being seasoned Broadway performers, the same sleight of hand that once made believe Judy Garland was just the girl next door but that’s entertainment.
It was a pilot, it had pilotness. Uncertain pacing and everyone but the two leads a complete stereotype. The sassy black girl, the silent asian chick, the long-suffering wheelchaired geek. The fashion-victim gay kid, the penny-pinching principal and a whole coven of very scary women (someone has issues) from virgin cheerleader, through vitality sucking wife, through bitch squadron boss to OCD spinster. And Rachel who by all the laws of show musicals should have been the ingénue female lead, the Ruby Keeler to Finn’s Dick Powell, but in this story the lead couple was homosocial. Not girl meets boy but man meets boy he used to be and I should hate them for being so obviously the centre of the writer’s attention but both actors were unassuming enough that neither character seemed aware of their special status. I should especially hate Finn who was written to be good at everything from singing to quarterbacking and a hero to boot but at least he was a working class hero and his thing with his mother made me think of John Connor (TERMINATOR: THE MUSICAL) so that was all right.
The thing I liked best was that for all that it played as arch and self-knowing the ending was pure put-on-a-show with everybody playing an equal part in singing their hearts out. Not because it was better than being waterboarded, not for hip juxtapositon of Winehouse and 42nd Street but for the sheer amateur joy of making music. Via (naturally) the traditional irony of cast members being seasoned Broadway performers, the same sleight of hand that once made believe Judy Garland was just the girl next door but that’s entertainment.