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Wednesday, 24 October
Viva Lost Hours From My Life!
Okay, so about a week ago the wife weirdly decided to leave the house for some cultcha--she removed herself in order to go see a production of Twelfth Night. Fuck that, I said. I stayed home so I could see CSI. Which as we all know is the Shakespeare of our time, except for "Prospero" insert "Gil Grissom," and for "dramatically drowns books of magic" insert "clinically observes blowflies." I did this because I am America's greatest hero.
So I saw that, and because I am almost pathologically sedentary, I also left the TV on when the program ended.
That's when everyone else in the world sensibly turned off their televisions. But I did not! I stuck around. You fucking cowards.
That's when Viva Laughlin started, and my eyes were opened. Glued open, practically, except for the parts that I simply couldn't watch out of shame and embarrassment.
Where to start? Oh, the title, I guess. Viva Laughlin? Are you kidding me? This show was apparently ripped off from some unloved BBC show, and this is the American title they come up with. What's next, CBS? Hubba Hubba, Walla Walla! Holy Fucking Shit, Davenport! My Ankles Hurt, Grangeville!
This . . . thing . . . which has already been nuked was purportedly a musical drama. This despite the fact that two of the principal actors demonstrated no singing skills whatsoever. More on this in a minute.
It also inexplicably had the very charming, very talented Hugh Jackman in it. Jackman's character's introduction was to sing the song "Sympathy for the Devil" as he strutted through his hot-ass casino. But here's the thing. They just played the Rolling Stones song behind him while he sang along. In other words, the show displayed an incredibly accomplished song-and-dance man basically singing along (nearly inaudibly) with the radio while grooving to some seriously uninspired dance moves. They hired Hugh Jackman to sing and dance, and then hamstrung not only his singing but also his dancing. It was the weirdest thing in the world. It was like hiring Rowdy Roddy Piper to sit quietly in a chair and calmly read from the encyclopedia entry about "professional wrestling."
It got much, much worse. I mean, even when utterly crippled by production bear traps, a pro like Jackman still isn't going to look too stupid. Other people?
Well, it would be nice if they could sing. The main guy--it's also telling that Jackman wasn't "the main guy"--displayed no evidence of singing talent whatsoever. But since he was also singing along with Elvis, it was hard to tell. (But I'm pretty sure that the guy could not sing at all. I know whereof I speak, as I myself am a depressingly horrible singer.)
The whole show opened with him singing along with "Viva Las Vegas." Remember that this show is--was--called "Viva Laughlin." Anyway. The man could not sing. I think. And even if he could? WHO FUCKING CARES? This is one of the most worthless songs Elvis ever recorded; Elvis at his pandering worst. (Frankly, I hate Elvis. I'm like the Chuck D. of hating Elvis, only I'm white and stupid and I also can't rap.) "Viva Las Vegas" is simply "Copacabana," except that "The King" recorded it, and therefore it is good. Fuck that horrible song. Fuck this whole show! I thought. It's so awesome! I thought moments later. I'm not good for me, obviously.
It got worse.
Did you know Melanie Griffith was in this . . . object? Did you know that Melanie Griffith trying to sing is a lot like listening to macaques being burned to death? Did you know that Melanie Griffith attempting to be sexy any more is a lot like watching a Sci-Fi channel movie called "Attack of the Deteriorating RealDoll"?
Melanie Griffith "sang" "One Way or Another"--again, with the full original song playing behind her, thank God--while doing some hideous seductive routine at the main guy, who mostly hung onto his tie for dear life and tried not to look too mortified.
"ONE WAY! OR ANOTHER! I'M GONNA GETCHA!" squealed Griffith in her patented moron-slash-babydoll voice, looking about as sexy as Will Ferrell dry-humping a rancid ham. (I assume that that is the premise of his next movie.) The only thing I can think of more horrifying than that scene, frankly, was her whore turn in Body Double where she insisted to her client that he must not come on her face.
I'm really going to miss this show.
Note: Comments are closed on old entries.
Oh, god, Melanie Griffith is awful now, isn't she? Her dead, bloated fish lips and her surprised Barbie doll eyes... Shudder.
Fantastic review! You actually made me want to see this show so that I could hate it right along with you. And nice Rowdy Roddy Piper reference. Damn that's funny.
"I'm like the Chuck D. of hating Elvis"
There is so much wrong in this fraction of a sentence. I'm savoring it like a good wine.
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