HOLD MAMA'S WAFFLES:
So I took Cosmo Girl to see the "singalong cut" of my new BFF* Adam Shankman's movie today. Our verdict: under no circumstances can the beat be stopped. I wasn't remotely surprised by how much I enjoyed it, but I was
surprised by how much I enjoyed John Travolta's performance once I got past the fact that he had the only Baltimorish accent -- it's pretty brutal -- in the entire movie. It's a totally different Edna than Harvey Fierstein's, but (a) it was awfully sweet and (b) it was clear that Travolta had spent a lot of time thinking about how he wanted to portray Edna. And if you're gonna have Travolta play this part, then you might as well crank up the dancing, and Shankman did a fabulous job choreographing so as to use his dancer to his best advantage while maintaining her inner Ednificence.
(For those wondering how four-year-old Cosmo Girl enjoyed herself, I can report that she loved all the music and the dancing, and sat still more than she ever has for any movie in her entire life. The racial storyline was entirely lost on her; the sole plot element that gave her any pause and provoked any questioning was when Prudy Pingleton tied Penny to the bed. Cosmo Girl was aghast that anyone's Mommy had done such a thing.)
As for the singalong aspect of the film: I specifically called ahead to see which screen was showing the singalong version. I strongly suspect that no one else in the theatre (a midday matinee in the middle of Times Square -- things might have been different in, say, Chelsea) had the foggiest idea that they were attending a singalong screening and as such were probably very confused as to why all the songs had subtitles. No singing.
* After watching Adam Shankman on four different episodes of SYTYCD,** Mr. Cosmo and I now feel that we have a special friendship with him. I thus deemed it my duty as his friend to go see his film today.
** I was too tired this week to post my SYTYCD thoughts. Suffice to say that the eliminations were the right ones, although I will miss Dominic's self-deprecating sense of humor. (I have to admit that I was touched by the raw carried-away sincerity of the kiss.) My own responses to some of the dances were unusually out of sync with the judges': I liked Nick and Lacey's Latin Jazz routine, and wasn't particularly blown away by their Mia & Daddy dance. I did agree, however, that the normally exceptionally talented members of the wardrobe staff had apparently been abducted by Martians when it came time to costume Danny and Sara for the Salt-n-Pepa routine, and I would add in a big raspberry to Shane Sparks for the choreography. But there are no raspberries to be directed at the glorious Sabra -- I had no bid for her early in the season, but she has grown on me to the degree that I think she could potentially win the whole thing.***
***I think I've run out of things to talk about. Have a great weekend!