poukledden

In other news, YAY! Part II of Dr. Horrible is up! YAY!

Oh, sorry, scribblefly.

Who am I kidding? I'm not sorry.

YAY!!!!!!!!

(I really needed this silly little musical this week. Oh, it makes me happy to have a Joss Whedon in the world)

Dr. Horrible!

So, so, so wonderfully camp. Oh, how I love that man. Oh how wonderful it is to see Nathan Fillion camping it up as an ego-bloated superhero.

And there's a Captain Hammer comic book!

UPDATE:

P.S. I'll love you forever if you buy me a Hammer's Hammer t shirt.

The Gold Diggers of 1935 (Busby Berkeley, umm, sometime in the 1930s or so)

Last week I watched The Gold Diggers of 1933, which was good fun in the early 1930's, romantic-comedy-musical "Code? What Code?" type of movie. The Gold Diggers of 1935 was made in the Code Era, so there's less in your face sexual innuendo and scantily clad eye candy. But Busby Berkeley was in full charge for this one, so you get a full dose of the Berkeley magic.

The thing I love about Berkeley -- his movies have this pattern. It's all normal romantic comedy silliness, but coherent, interspersed with Dick Powell or whoever singing at random moments, and then, just when you think you've got a handle on it,  BAM. Everything is out the door, and there's music and dance routines that completely step out of the movie and go completely, utterly apeshit. You're mainlining Escher, the legends of Prestor John, and the wormhole sequence from 2001 straight through the eyeballs. And it's not all happy weirdness, because, as the Lullaby of Broadway sequence from this movie shows, sometimes ol' Busby was droppin' the brown acid.

In sad movie news, my copy of The Man Who Fell to Earth arrived from Netflix in a sadly cracked and unplayable state.