TM-213: Inventing Sorrow
"There's enough sorrow in the world, isn't there, without trying to invent it." - E. M. Forster, A Room With A View.
[OOC: Locked, as always, to those who know Cap is alive.]
There’s nothing I love more than a good movie musical.
Top Hat. Swing Time. Yankee Doodle Dandy. Shall We Dance. The Wizard of Oz. And in case you think I haven’t seen a movie since 1945, I’d add a few later pictures to the list: The Sound of Music. Singin’ in the Rain. An American in Paris. Brigadoon.
In musicals, the world doesn’t have troubles. Or, if it does, they all work out in the end, for the most part. The guy gets the girl. Dorothy finds her way home. The Von Trapps make it over those mountains. People use songs to say the things they’ve never been able to say before, and the world blossoms beautifully before their eyes in a whirlwind of costumes and fancy footwork.
It’s not that I don’t appreciate tragedy. I’ve read my Shakespeare. I’ve seen Titanic. But most of that tragedy, at least, was based on history. History that we have to remember in order to honor the past, and avoid repeating it in the future. But with all the tragedy and sorrow in the world, why would you ever have to invent new tragedy? Why wouldn’t you use entertainment to explore how the world can be happy, instead? If we invent sadness, we’re showing everyone a world where a search for happiness is futile. It encourages more misery. But if we invent happiness, we’re showing them a world where it’s possible to find joy. We’re encouraging more happiness. And inventing happiness is just what musicals were made for.
Recently, I saw a movie called Hairspray. It was a delight. The colors were bright and the characters were well-drawn and the music was catchy, and in the end, romance thrived, and justice was served. This shining, determined little girl made a real difference in her world, and found love at the same time. The movie celebrated confidence and fairness and the kind of joy that no one can make you hold inside. I loved it. It was the best movie I’d seen in years.
So, when I saw that another movie musical was coming out, I thought I’d give it a chance. I don’t see a lot of modern films, because the disconnect between modern techniques and what I remember from my youth is sometimes too hard to get past. But I was optimistic, after my experience with Hairspray. Maybe this musical, this barber musical, would be just as good.
By the time I left the theater, I felt physically ill. This was not what a musical should be. This was not what anything should be.
So if anyone can tell me why this “Sweeney Todd” exists, I would really like to hear it. Because I can’t for the life of me figure out a good reason.
[OOC: Locked, as always, to those who know Cap is alive.]
There’s nothing I love more than a good movie musical.
Top Hat. Swing Time. Yankee Doodle Dandy. Shall We Dance. The Wizard of Oz. And in case you think I haven’t seen a movie since 1945, I’d add a few later pictures to the list: The Sound of Music. Singin’ in the Rain. An American in Paris. Brigadoon.
In musicals, the world doesn’t have troubles. Or, if it does, they all work out in the end, for the most part. The guy gets the girl. Dorothy finds her way home. The Von Trapps make it over those mountains. People use songs to say the things they’ve never been able to say before, and the world blossoms beautifully before their eyes in a whirlwind of costumes and fancy footwork.
It’s not that I don’t appreciate tragedy. I’ve read my Shakespeare. I’ve seen Titanic. But most of that tragedy, at least, was based on history. History that we have to remember in order to honor the past, and avoid repeating it in the future. But with all the tragedy and sorrow in the world, why would you ever have to invent new tragedy? Why wouldn’t you use entertainment to explore how the world can be happy, instead? If we invent sadness, we’re showing everyone a world where a search for happiness is futile. It encourages more misery. But if we invent happiness, we’re showing them a world where it’s possible to find joy. We’re encouraging more happiness. And inventing happiness is just what musicals were made for.
Recently, I saw a movie called Hairspray. It was a delight. The colors were bright and the characters were well-drawn and the music was catchy, and in the end, romance thrived, and justice was served. This shining, determined little girl made a real difference in her world, and found love at the same time. The movie celebrated confidence and fairness and the kind of joy that no one can make you hold inside. I loved it. It was the best movie I’d seen in years.
So, when I saw that another movie musical was coming out, I thought I’d give it a chance. I don’t see a lot of modern films, because the disconnect between modern techniques and what I remember from my youth is sometimes too hard to get past. But I was optimistic, after my experience with Hairspray. Maybe this musical, this barber musical, would be just as good.
By the time I left the theater, I felt physically ill. This was not what a musical should be. This was not what anything should be.
So if anyone can tell me why this “Sweeney Todd” exists, I would really like to hear it. Because I can’t for the life of me figure out a good reason.