Hamas and Cheese Sandwitch

I said I'd update every day so for today's post...here is a short thingy I wrote for Creative Nonfiction class...enjoy, if you can...

Against the General Implausibility of Old Musicals

I’m a film student and as such I have the privilege of being forcefully exposed to films from every famous filmmaker, in every part of the world and yes, even from every specific genre they both have to offer. Today I had the opportunity in my American Cinema class to sit back and enjoy 1933’s “Footlight Parade.”
Right at the start here I should mention that there is something called suspension of disbelief, the entertainment/realism trade off or something to that degree which is supposed to excuse a reasonably large amount nonsense within a story. I can speak on behalf of it, it’s certainly some good stuff. It makes it possible for audiences to enjoy totally crazy things like space adventures or the bad guys always getting shot just before they pull the trigger, and of course the list goes on. In the case of these musicals, however, I have trouble seeing how anyone forgave them of their blatant mockery of reality.
Given the experience I now have with big budget Hollywood musicals I must come to the conclusion that Americans of the 1920s and 30’s possessed a higher level of this bull malarkey accepting agent. The number of musicals produced during this time period really leaves little doubt of that. Of course I say this must be true because musicals at the time simply didn’t care about any of the rules of general sensibility. Forget realistic, if realism were a monkey they slapped the monkey, filled it’s position with a chicken in monkey suit, then played it off as if the audience would be crazy to think anything of it.
The first attack that someone might vault on these old time musicals is the fact that song happens anywhere, at any time, under any circumstance. I’m not going to go there simply because people who enjoy musicals have a good defense. Once all’s said and done good old escapism, or perhaps a simple desire to be entertained suffice in excusing that. I’d say the problem still doesn’t come in when the farmer in the background or the goofy stage hand starts to randomly dance perfectly in sync with the principle actors. No, that’s not it either. There has to be a line drawn somewhere and I draw it at about the point where the whole town or crew casts aside their pitchforks or their brooms, joins hands, and dance circles around one another.
The real substance of musicals is plain and simple, escapism and I know that. In light of the depression it stands to reason that people needed to escape from reality in any way they could. I don’t feel that the elaborate musical should be cast away from all of filmmaking for all of time, surely it has it’s place, but I’m just remaining hopeful that perhaps it’s time has past. After all, if we don’t need anything to escape into we might be doing ok. As long as 40 some odd dancers aren’t suddenly synchronize swimming in a mysteriously fabricated Olympic swimming pool adorned with golden fountains, I feel a little more confident in the state of the American psyche. Times must be decent when we don’t want to get away that badly.