It’s time for Daft Old Duffer’s weekly column. In his own words. Ed
For most of my life I never had much time for Hollywood musicals.
You know – Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers, Cyd Charisse et al. (well – Cyd Charisse then. And I’m not sure about Al)
I much preferred the sort of film where blokes got mowed down by other blokes wielding Chicago pianos, car chases ended with the baddie’s Pontiac or Buick tumbling bonnet over boot encased in vengeful flame, and where gorgeous females ripped their clothes off as soon as Sean Connery or Pierce Brosnan entered the room.
You know – gritty realism stuff.
Of late howsoever I have suffered a sea change.
Loving Lalita not Lolita
Having sneered with European superiority at all Bollywood output until recently, I woke up one morning to the startling fact that my most favourite film is now Bride and Prejudice.
All Indian grins, truly beautiful ladies and bright, bright dancing.
And my close second favourite is Chicago featuring Renee Zellweger
“I didn’t do it, I’m not to blame.”
“If you’d’ve been there, You’d have done the same.!
“He ran onto my knife.”
“He ran onto my knife seventeen times.”
Age-ripened?
I don’t know what’s brought this about. Softening of the brain resulting from old age perhaps.
Whatever, modern science plays it’s part by allowing me to pick out the best bits.
Watching ‘The Gay Divorcee’ the other night for example, I was able to fast-forward through the entirely predictable story line and Fred’s wince – making acting, slowing only for the dance routines with Ginge – Fred alone not so hot – and the final ‘Dance the Continental’ scene. Marvellous.
Watching our Ginge tripping the athletic incredible I was reminded of an observation that surfaced in my mind during a long-ago conversation.
A then girl friend remarked what a wonderful dancer Fred was. To which my reply was, “yes he is. But don’t forget, Ginger has to do all he does but backwards in high heels.”
And of course looking very tasty with it.
Image: Allan Warren under CC BY 3.0
