George White's Scandalsi very much stands as a celebration of the on-screeen eruption of a Frog (the frog) aesthetic, directed by, entirely conceived of (and through) a batrachian's worldview.ii So come one and all and see what frogs think of ye! They tried really hard to understand, and made what they deem a most credible to not say passible rendition of humanity seen through their eyes! There's not even any depiction of fly eatings! as barely conceivable maximal extension of indulgent tolerance for greater makehumanity! (though there's some very tadpole-like choreographies)
The truth of the matter's Florenz had the foresight to croak before the MGM wondermachineiii took a hold of his work and fucked it (though they still tried -- at least this way the spurious attempt can be thoroughly ignored).
George White, the producer of muchly inferior output, "wasn't about to wait until he was beyond caring"iv. He therefore issued two versionsv of his forgettable "Scandals" for Fox, which are utterly miserable because... Well looksy, Broadway revue functioned in a particular context, serving a very clearly delineated role, servicing a very clearly understood public : all the marketable cuntsvi flocked to New York to be marketedvii, and the chorus line was the vehicle of their marketing.
Absent the fresh meat buyers, the display makes about as much sense as "Occidental" supermarket advertising paradropped in 1980s Soviet space, or this blog among an ESLtard readersheep. The hell are they gonna grok from it ?! It's just not meaningful, and not in any danger of being understood or to any degree relevant to the audience (in practice, they'll just produce their own substitute "understanding" in their own terms for their own consumption and that's it). A hammer without even the concept of nails, what the hell is that ? A holy chalice in a world so desiccated even alcohol long evaporated, what could it possibly denote, let alone connote, for anyone at all ? Anyone who, anyways ?!
What's left behind is a plotless atrocity of self-repeating face cameos in a kaleidoscope miscast as camera, inexplicable and incomprehensible ; in any case worthless once that particular one batch of bachelorettes was sold off by the time Autumn 1934 rolled around. It might be argued that the New-York based Instagram of 1930 worked way the fuck better than the current version, but even this much is doubtful.viii In any case it was much simpler, and simplicity in industry never bodes well.———
- 1934, allegedly by George White though we know better, with nobody in particular (unless you count Happy McGillicuddy). [↩]
- If anyone's concerned as to the how's it going for his friend Burt, why...
Self-cannibalization of itself! That's what happens! [↩]
- As in Romanian, "copilu' minune : minca gem si caca prune". [↩]
- It paid off, too -- he's got an imdb profile the size of any other nameless chorus girls'.
Kudos for selling out, wanna-be lame fuck! Totally! [↩]
- The difference between them being a blackface act in the first that's deleted in the second. Nothing remarkable about it (besides perhaps it being titled "That's Why Darkies Were Born"), just a bunch of brutish "talented rappers/basketball players/etcetera" carrying a bunch of white reproductive assets (in blackface) on their backs, and an old black woman of stereo-typical proportions with a bunch of singin' pickaninnies under her skirts (that have children of their own apparently, age-irrespective). That sorta thing, middle of the road 1930s minstrel fare. [↩]
- Mostly sixteen-ish (by which we mean fifteen and a leaf), though the occasional neglected Faye'd debut as old as 18. [↩]
- Starting well before the Dust Bowl cataclystic explosion, actually. [↩]
- Take this single data point : Facebook's introducing (or introduced already, I forget) a... custodian of infantile periamorous mobilizations service, namely if you tell it that you have a crush on some friend, it'll withhold this information "from anyone" (hurr) except if the friend in question confides the same, in which case it'll tell both of you!
Imagine this wonder! It's the only function and utility of the circle of friends among all UStards (and thirteen years old girls worldwide). All they even maintain social circles for is the management and negotiation of publicity on the topic of "their secret crush". Once Facebook undertakes that one task, there's really no reason whatsoever to ever answer the phone again, isn't that right ? Well...
(Though of course these naive "best ideas" never work out systematically ; and self-obviously once the boys find out Facebook'll have to limit how many crushes they can have at the same time -- a very girly thing to do, really, as boys have no such limit naturally -- and still turn into exactly Tindr.) [↩]