'Ff'lo (fflo) wrote,

another sick day

Today's a gross one as well as unpleasant.  Phlegm.  Pressure in the noggin.  Throat still raw.  And little human contact, none in person, unless you count the woman out on the corner with her dog as we stepped out onto the stoop.  (Dogs exchanged barks, people exchanged mini-nodwaves.)  After an email request I went to look up for my once-upon-a-time lover how long it'd been since somebody'd been logged in to a dating site, which was sorta depressing, just cuz the world of online dating is depressing.  But a funny thing happened that TCM thought it needed to apologize for on its twitter feed (and many seemed to think ruined the movie, but they're nuts):  they accidentally ran the action-described-in-audible-narration version of 42d Street (1933) instead of the "regular" one.

That's one of those old Busby Berkeley movies, see.  With the elaborate production numbers he supposedly thought up in his bathtub (nudge-nudge), and their absurd geometrical proto-acid-trip choreographical insanity.  And no compunction about why those shots designed to be seen from overhead would be in musicals on stage, which they are in the story of the movie.  Anyway, point is, if you have the job of writing the brief-as-possible simple relating of what's happening visually on screen, or if you have the job of reading that description in a calm but quick voice as if it's at all a matter-of-fact and casual thing to do, the A-1 hardest/worst movie thing to have to do that for has got to be a Busby Berkeley production number.  And I thought I was just gonna be okay with the mistake cuz I could play games on my phone while "watching" the movie and still know what was going on.  When it got to those dance numbers, it was downright hilarious.  Poor calm narrating woman.  Poor person who had to write it.  And they did a good job!  All in that calm matter-of-fact voice, when you know it was all like "jesus fuck" trying to put it together.

There were other ways it enhanced the understanding of this viewer, having the audio description, like how characters would get called by name when I didn't know their character names, and then I'd know if I had the right person on IMDb when I was wondering where else I'd seen that guy.  But the main thing was the delightful absurdity of the descriptions of the already absurd vaguely pervy Busby bizarreness.  Those pissed off people on twitter are nuts.

Of course what do I know from twitter.  I'm still bugged, over a week later, by that guy, a-hole though he had been, losing his job and being shamed off the internet (and having his phone # and address gleefully published, too, in case anyone hadn't had enough) when Patton Oswalt and his thousands of followers targeted him.  Clearly the vast majority delight in his getting "what he deserved" (they're so sure).

I'll post a postcard tomorrow, I hope.  Goodnight, people.

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