As anyone who has accompanied me to a bar with a karaoke machine will know, I kind of love to dance. I'm not particularly good at it, but I tend to not let that hold me back; especially when there's karaoke happening, because chances are the singer (who is often me, but that's another blog) is not particularly good either (and again, this is often me, but that's still another blog).
I find myself inexplicably drawn to dance in spite of my shortcomings. The few occasions in which I've been able to be part of choreographed numbers for a theatrical production (yes, yes... Capers woo...) have been thoroughly enjoyable for me, and I have acquired many of those songs so I can re-live the moments in the privacy of my unemployment. And sometimes in the anonymity of the internet.
And simply watching dancing is another guilty pleasure of mine. I'd almost hate to admit it, but I doubt many people really read this anyway, so I'm not feeling too inhibited when I confess that I've watched (and mostly enjoyed) films like Save the Last Dance, and Honey, and I even watched the premier episode of Superstars of Dance, hosted by Michael Flatley. And... Yes. I'll say it. Damn you, Ireland - why did your two performances of that episode have to be Lord of the Dance routines?!?! Couldn't you have brought something new to the table?!?! Weak. Just... weak, Ireland. I expected better from you.
The brief resurgence of hit musical movies was awesome for me. Chicago? Of course I loved it! Moulin Rouge? Fun! Rent? I can see why there are so many fangirls. And if I ever get the chance, I'll get around to watching a lot more of the recent crop, like Hairspray (and not just because You Can't Stop The Beat is one of my long-standing Capers-favorites). And what recently-released film has me totally fascinated?
Bollywood for the win, my friends.
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