The Pleasures of the Surreal

Movies and I have an odd relationship. I devour the reviews, can tell you if the critics like it or not, but never end up seeing them until years later. So although "La La Land" should be totally up my alley (MUSICAL!!!) I haven't seen it yet. 

Last year (by backlog really goes back), I was reading one of the many pieces about it, and this paragraph by Manohla Dargis jumped out at me: 

Contemporary American movies could use more s’wonderful, more music and dance, and way, way more surrealism. They’re too dull, too ordinary and too straight, whether they’re mired in superhero clichés or remodeled kitchen-sink realism. One of the transformative pleasures of musicals is that even at their most choreographed, they break from conformity, the dos and don’ts of a regimented life, suggesting the possibility that everyone can move to her own beat. It’s enormously pleasurable when an evening stroll turns into a rhythmic saunter and then bursts into dance — think of Gene Kelly walking, tapping, stomping and exulting in the rain. . . 

Musicals are for idealists. One of the pleasures of classic film musicals is the chance to watch bodies become extraordinary — strolling and then singing and soaring — often in stories that suggest that with some choir practice and maybe an Arthur Murray dance lesson or two, you could soar, too. Musicals are liberation with a beat. When Judy Garland sang “Over the Rainbow,” she was telling her audience that it would transcend its terrible times. 

For me, movies and books are about pleasant escapism. If life is B'H going well, I don't want to dwell in misery; if life has gotten ensnarled in a rough patch, I want to be distracted by sunshine and ponies.

Although, I do have to remind myself that in the real world, breaking into song and dance in the rain is not a wise idea, especially if there are witnesses.