It should come as no surprise to any of you Lerlines that a gal who enjoys blogging about Flashdance and Purple Rain also enjoys watching Dancing with the Stars. I enjoy it immensely.
What is not to love?
However, last week when Ingo Rademacher (you might remember him as the blonde point in the Brenda/Sonny/Jax love triangle from General Hospital) danced the Charleston to Fat Sam’s Grand Slam, I had flashbacks. Not the good kind, like when you hear a Paul Williams song and you suddenly remember all the words to Rainbow Connection as well as the song Gonzo sang at the campfire. And, now that I think of it, not the really bad kind, like when you watch a car crash through a remarkably flimsy “bridge out” sign to jump a dry creek bed, and you remember that Paul Williams was in Smokey and the Bandit, and you can’t get Little Enos’ mustache out of your mind. … Or the name “Little Enos”.
It haunts you.
No. I’m talking about the kind of flashback where you hear Paul William’s Fat Sam’s Grand Slam, and you remember that there was once a movie called Bugsy Malone (written and directed by a pre-fame and pre-Fame Alan Parker), and suddenly you go through it all again. The five stages of Bugsy Malone.
1. Mild curiosity.
“Oh hey. A young Scott Baio and a young Jodie Foster in a period piece. I’m stuck in this hospital bed/jail cell/ crippling depression. Maybe I’ll watch it”
2. Amused confusion.
“Um…where are the adults? I mean it’s starting to look like a gangster movie made with all children actors…for some reason, but….”
Nah! It couldn’t be THAT!
Because that would be weird and pointless.
Holy crap! Does that kid have a KID?!
3. Shocked Realization
These kids are in some pretty adult situations.
Very adult situations.
Oh my BOYZONE!!!
Was this legal…even in the 70s?
4. Detached Rationalization.
Maybe Parker is trying to say something about sensationalized violence in movies by using whip cream instead of bullets.
It makes sense.
Sort of.
Oh, but hey!
Those cars are pretty cool. I wish I had one of those when I was a kid.
Oh. They’re just pedal cars.
I did have one of those. Mine didn’t have a chauffeur, though. I crashed it into a few frog ponds, and then it got rusty.
5. Devastating Trauma
Oh look. An adorable child is singing. Wait. That’s not his voice. It’s familiar…odd and creepy…OH GOD. It’s Paul Williams!
That’s right. There is no acceptance in the Five Stages of Bugsy Malone. Just pure horror. Look, I take Paul Williams very seriously. He was the voice of a generation and a national frigging treasure, and when he dies*, I’m going to listen to Rainbow Connection over and over and cry like a baby…a very sad baby. But I don’t know why, but his voice is SUPER CREEPY. Maybe it’s because his singing style was honed in the 70s and is so devoid of irony that it reeks of festering sincerity. Maybe it is that he looks and sounds like a corporeal muppet.
Spot the non-Muppet. It’s harder than you think.
Whatever it is. That voice…coming out of a little kids mouth. Horrifying. Why couldn’t Kym have chosen a different song to Charleston to? Why Kym…WHY?!
So…cold. So…horrified.
*That’s right, Lerlines. He’s still alive.
