Greetings, dear reader. I know it has been an unforgivably long time since my last post, but I’ve had many things on my mind. Namely, I’ve had a couple of friends (real life ones, at that!) suggest that I make my blog more personal. They seem to think I’m interesting or something, I don’t know. While I wholeheartedly disagree with anything that would come anywhere close to being a compliment, I have decided to take the suggestion. This doesn’t mean I won’t still have mostly rage filled posts about the state of Jeanette MacDonald fan groups or times where I’m just like, “Hey, I watched a movie and this is what I think!” Some people call those reviews, but mine tend to be more like streams of words that, in the end, I somehow make work together, but have no great impact.
That being said…
I’ve talked before about what a strange thing my memory is. Well, last night I watched Skirts Ahoy! (punctuation required), and I found that I apparently did not watch that movie as many times, as a young person, as I thought I did. I had that “oh my lord, what is wrong with me” moment, watching The Opposite Sex, but aside from knowing the general idea, this one might as well have been a new movie. You see, I have this really intense and totally unnecessary beef with Esther Williams over some things that were said about Kathryn Grayson, in her autobiography. This doesn’t stop me from loving the movies, or the idea (or drugs) behind the decision to make swimming musicals, but I have to wonder if, when I first uttered the immortal phrase, “You’re dead to me, Esther,” if my brain did a complete sweep of everything she was in. I mean, I was awkward as hell and you KNOW if I say I watched the shit out of Esther movies, growing up, I probably did. But maybe I didn’t. Perhaps I also spent a fair amount of energy on forgetting everything when I finally saw Jupiter’s Darling. Because that movie is horrible. On the goodness scale, it ranks somewhere between Goebbels and Squeaky Fromme. That movie is literally a murderer. I blame it for killing MGM. I’m totally wrong in that assertion, but I digress. Anyway, I remember drinking a whole pot of coffee, one night, about my sophomore year of high school, and staying up the whole night recording songs from Skirts Ahoy! and Athena. I have a very clear memory of Athena, but the Esther stuff… meh. Based on the recognition of what is going on, I may have watched it once. It may have been on in another room, in the same house. My brain just doesn’t recognize it at all. Oh, memory, you are a silly thing.
But maybe, and hear me out on this one, it’s not my memory at all. Maybe it’s because watching Esther Williams movies is like this really crazy drug high. There is no explanation for what is happening. We’re singing. Oh, we’re swimming. Wait, was she wearing her bathing suit as underwear? WAS IT MGM LAUNDRY DAY?! Jesus, are we waterskiing now? BRAIN OVERLOAD. PROCESS TERMINATED. And then suddenly the movie is over and you’re like, “Hell yeah, I just watched the greatest thing ever!” and you could have actually been staring at a painted rock for two hours. Luckily, though, I don’t have haunting fan fiction that I once used as kindling to try to forget.
Hello, my name is Kayla, an I never wrote Esther Williams fan fiction. Though she was a character in the original play I wrote, in my junior year drama class, about Dick Clark taking over the world.
Also, you should probably sign up for Warner Archive Instant because I’m obsessed with that mess. You, too, can watch Skirts Ahoy! and be like, “Waitwhat?”