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Give ‘em the old Razzle
Dazzle Gay Men and Musicals
“Honey, what’s a 1944 Celeste Holm musical?”
These kinds of requests are frequently
shouted across my house by my boyfriend, Mr.Times-Crossword-Puzzle-in-Ink.
“Bloomer Girl,” I shout back.
I’m hopeless when it comes to
crosswords (8 letter word for my attitude: W-H-O-C-A-R-E-S), but I’m a
reliable source for the occasional music theater reference.
The fact is, I’ve never seen Bloomer
Girl. I’ve never heard Bloomer Girl. Hell, I don’t even know what a bloomer girl is. But I do know
that Bloomer Girl was a 1944 Celeste Holm musical. You see, I’m not
just a music theater queen, I’m an empress.
And I have been ever since I burst out of
the womb crying, “Hello, everybody! My name’s June. What’s
yours?” I mean, I was the 9-year-old who scolded the clerks in the
record department at Sears for putting Original Cast Albums under
“Soundtracks.” When I went to college I even MAJORED in music
theater. Like the song says, “Gayer than laughter am I.”
Certainly it’s no accident that plays
without music are called “straight plays.” But what is it about
musicals that so captivates gay men?
It’s not because musicals are created
by gay men, although they often are. In fact, the Arthur Freed
Production Unit, responsible for nearly all of the classic MGM musicals
of the 1940s and 50s, was so queer it was known in the industry as
“Freed’s Fairies.” Likewise for the creative teams behind the
current hits Chicago and Hairspray, as well as nearly every high school
production since the dawn of time.
But lots of straight men create musicals
and lots go to them, although I’m sure many a mother has brought her
sissy boy to a matinee of Annie and gone home singing, “My son’ll
come out…tomorrow.”
So what is it about musicals? Here’s an
8 letter word for my attitude: W-H-O-C-A-R-E-S?
Musicals are fun; they’re buoyant and
joyful and not prone to a lot of introspection. Look at Cats, which is a
two-hour pageant to see which feline gets into kitty heaven. (Again,
W-H-O-C-A-R-E-S?) They should post a sign
in the lobby saying, “Warning: This musical contains material which
may insult your intelligence.”
And even a classic like Oklahoma is just
a simple story about who Laurie will choose to escort her to the box
social, which sounds to me like a lesbian potluck.
Critics of the form snipe that “people
in real life don’t burst into song.” Oh yeah? I know guys who are so
queer they not only burst into song, they burst into flames.
Presumably one of the reasons Chicago is
such a hit is that it solves this problem by making all the songs occur
in the character Roxie Hart’s head. Now, don’t get me wrong, I loved
this movie. (Richard Gere has the role of a lifetime as a sleazy lawyer.
And Catherine Zeta Jones has the role of a lifetime as an opportunistic
gold-digger who’ll do anything for publicity. She also plays one in
the film.)
But the critics miss the point. Musicals
are back because we need them. Now more than ever. This is a form that
blossomed during the anxieties of a world at war; in fact, research
shows that Carol Channing actually started touring in Hello Dolly during
the Crusades.
We miss seeing movies with scenes like
the one where Renee Zellweger dances on top of the word “Roxie” in
lights, although to be more accurate it should have said, “Anoroxie.”
(I thought she was terrific, but it’s definitely time for this girl to
go back on solid foods. Rumor has it that she collapsed in rehearsals
from exhaustion and was faxed to the hospital.)
Even the step-child of musicals, the
beach movie, is being revived, with a spring-break themed film recently
rushed into production starring American Idol’s Kelly Clarkson and
Justin Guarini, the latter of whom is clearly destined for greatness
because he has Barbra Streisand’s hair-do from A Star is Born.
I think we should just re-cut all the
current movies to make them musicals. For instance, in Far From Heaven
when Julianne Moore walks in on Dennis Quaid with another man, you could
splice in some footage of him as Jerry Lee Lewis singing, “Goodness
gracious, great balls of fire!”
And in an effort to lighten up Gangs of
New York, you could use the scene in Charlie’s Angels where Cameron
Diaz dances in her Spiderman underpants.
Now if we can just figure out how to get
Nicole Kidman singing “Material Girl” in The Hours, we’d be set.
Like the song says, “Wouldn’t it be loverly?”
And that, my friends, is The Gospel
According to Marc.
Marc
Acito may be reached at MarcAcito@attbi.com.
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