Thursday, December 29, 2005

(Three weeks of good advice from three cracked cookies.)

Movie Review, Movie Review:

So I watched "Wattstax" last night. It was very good. I liked it.

Wait, I can do better than that. Please. Ok...

It had a well-centered message of peace and love and an even greater meaning of hope and happiness, yes it did. And you should watch it for that, and for Richard Pryor. I've been missing him for a long time now. But you know me, I'm more interested in the sparkly aspects of anything. Now all I can think about are splendiferous, bouncy mounds of gravity-defying afros, so what, of course, I want one now. Ooo, and the shiny, tiny hot pants and swingy, polyester dresses -- I wanted those, too. But I get cold too easily so that's right out, oh well. But the boots, dear God, the boots, I love the boots. Even the men wore them. Wait, especially the men wore them. And lo, they were superfly. The Bar Kays were superfreaks, who knew that? I didn't. All I ever knew about them was that they used to be someone, and now I think they play in smelly, mumbly lounges and darkened, indifferent casinos. But geez, I hope not. But hey, on the bright side - doesn't that just describe everyone you know plus me to a perfect size 7.5 boot size? No? Just me then? Huh...ok...well, anyway...

Afros were called "naturals" back in 1972. So don't say I didn't learn anything because I did. Sure, I was somewhat alive in 1972 but more concerned with dangerous toys with sharp edges, my bunny slippers, my hamster, getting to Sesame Street and not spilling Koolaid which was easy SINCE MY MOM WOULDN'T BUY IT, FOR STARTERS. And evidentally, this is where the repressed rage began. So anyway, I also want a vest made out of gold chains like Isaac Hayes had because I bet it was real gold, and buddy, I'd melt mine down for cash money and sail the seven seas with my pirate's booty. Booty, booty, booty. And more booty.

So there you have it - a deep and powerful movie was made, and all I can talk about is booty in one form or another. Isn't that interesting. Well, that's me. I'm that simple.


Ok. So now I will try to produce a more intellectual opinion of "What I Got Out of a Deep and Powerful Movie like Wattstax" a la how I used to do it in elementary school. Here goes:

What I got out of "Wattstax" besides the distinct feeling that things seemed a lot easier in 1972 than I realized, but I'm sure it wasn't however everyone still complained a good deal because I guess that's our jobs, y'know as humans to do that, like squirrels find nuts because it's their job. And they're good at it, too, dammit...

Good Lord, whatever, so much for a deep review. That was a good try for me, but as you see, the tires blew apart in the middle and sent what may have been an actual thought crashing into the drainage ditch.

I'm tired, that's what it is. Booty.

Ok, one more time: I got the want for an afro, and the need to feel the music and the people from the inside out because within this shivering white girl with a constant scarf and ponytail, really, is a dark-and-lovely giant of a woman with a deep, rich, warm soul and voice, never one to hold back from uncaging her rendition of "Amazing Grace" on wings up to God in a river of tears down this side of the mountain and back, and ready to get funky on yo' jive turkey ass because she don't play like that an' she will not walk behind in the blues some man done tried to lay on her, no ma'am, an' all those ones out there who try to keep her down can kiss her ass on Capital Street, an' she'll give you two weeks to draw a crowd because she's like that an' so was her mama, you better believe, so don't even.

That felt good. But that's not quite the point.

For the last time, that's not what I got out of the movie. It's a wonderful film. You should buy it in fact. If you don't like the funk, you just might be dead already. I'm just always like this. I keep going back to the afro I wish I had, and the Koolaid I never drank.

Oh come on. You care, you know you do. Yeah, I understand. I barely care today either. I'm rambly. The shivery white girl's fighting to stay awake for some reason.

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