What an effing disappointment.
I got all excited to hear Johnny Depp’s doing a new flick (and that he’s playing the big bad wolf, no less), only to learn two seconds later – that it’s a musical. What a horrible joke to play on me right at that point in the day where I need some good news in order to curb that nagging pang in my abdomen, avidly encouraging me to just go to the roof and jump off, like Aladdin – except without the agile acrobatic landing.
At least Aladdin had songs I could tolerate.
In fact, that’s the rule in general when it comes to musicals: in order for me to not cry blood from my ears, it needs to be sung by an affable cartoon Arab or crab and his other two-dimensional pals. Why? Because I haven’t fantasized about Sebastian the crustacean or Prince Ali naked. I didn’t even imagine Ariel disrobed of her sea-shell lingerie until way later in my life. Like, a whole half hour after the movie ended.
Anyway, that’s why. When it’s creative and abstract, it’s pure.
Anything can happen in that world that’s an escape into my child side.
Let’s don’t confuse the two with a celeb I’ll see on a tabloid tomorrow.
Short of Moulin Rouge (because it was fun but overtly sluttyness) and Labyrinth (Bowie in sex-coated pants and makeup, awakening my inner-sluttyness) I haven’t liked a non-toon musical in pretty much ever. I tried with that other Burton directed “Barber” flick Depp played in and I wanted to cry the way you do when you suddenly learn your lover likes assplay. And you have to accommodate him.
(“Mayhaps after a nether-manicure, darling.”)
And, for god’s sake, don’t ever tell Mr. Brand this – but I couldn’t sit through that “Rock of Ages” thing either. Yes, I’m the worst fan ever, I know. But it was just too much Hough and not enough Russ. I did, however, manage to fast forward to the bits with Baldwin and him making out – and watch just enough to feel equal parts confused and aroused and making something like the Obama frown face – except less approving. I love gay love – so that can’t be why. Maybe it was the hair. Or the dad jeans Alec rocks. We’ll never know. Just like I’ll probably never know what happens when Johnny plays one of my favorite villainous fairy story characters soon here.
Actually, that’s a lie.
Despite how I despise ditty infused movies, I’ll likely still give this inevitable auditory abomination at least a five minute try. For no other reason than why I indulged both the Bowie and Brand 80’s musicals. (I dig a dude in eyeliner). So, yes. I’ll bite like the big bad wolf and venture “into the woods”.
Even if those woods become more of a Japanese suicide forest after the first song plays.