How Musicals Can Save the Economy (from a Non-Economist)

I don't know a lot of people who really like musicals. The people I  know who do like musicals tend to really like them. Meanwhile, the people I know who don't like them really don't like them. There are some who are neutral, but the people I know tend to fall on one extreme side or the other. I love musicals.

I don't know when, exactly, I discovered my love for musicals. For a long time, my favorite movie
was White Christmas. I forgot about it (somehow) and rediscovered it in middle school where I once again declared it as my favorite. For my birthday/Christmas one year, my family went to Boston to see the show live in the Wang Theater. After going through the ordeal of parking in Boston (no easy feat) and finding the theater, I stood in the lobby surrounded by gold-painted embellishments and a chaotic flow of people.



Part of the original cast of White Christmas (from left; Bing
Crosby, Danny Kaye, and Rosemary Clooney)

And I began to cry.

My parents, confused and maybe even a bit annoyed because this was, largely, for me, asked me what was happening.

I was overwhelmed with happiness.

And this is why musicals are so important.

I know a lot of people who complain about musicals because they aren't realistic (because wizards running around riding half-horse-half-eagle things are so true-to-life). "No one just bursts into song like that!" they argue. "Oh, come on! How did they ALL know the lyrics and the choreography?"
Does it matter? I ask.

Like fantasy novels (and even realistic fiction, in many cases), the purpose of the musical is not to make us examine our lives and reconsider our paths as an individual or as a society, but to draw us away from such intense and often depressing thoughts. Musicals are designed to help us escape.
I've been thinking a lot about musicals lately because some people complained about the hoopla surrounding the birth of Prince George (Prince William and Kate Middleton's baby, if you somehow managed to successfully avoid news of the royal birth the last week), saying that there were more important things the world should be concerned about like the abortion bills in Texas, the NSA-Edward Snowden situation, the Trayvon Martin case, and a number of other big things going on. There was an excellent post (I believe on Tumblr -- if I can find it, I'll link to it later) that explained that people were excited about the royal baby because of all of these bad things going on -- not despite them.

The same is true of musicals. We -- I -- love them because they're not some docu-pic about the recession or September 11 or the War on Drugs. It's just pure escapism. And slowly, musicals are making a comeback.

I wish Hollywood would take on the characteristics of Hollywood of the past. The musicals of today tend to have music at the center of the plot, rather than of an element of the film. Admittedly, some of the older and greatest musicals had music as part of the plot -- Singin' in the Rain, White Christmas -- but other just included music for the sake of including music and engaging the audience -- Guys and Dolls (music played a very small part in the actual plot with Adelaide's performances), On the Town. Now, with movies like Pitch Perfect (which I have yet to see) and shows like Glee and Hannah Montana (moment of silence for the loss of the Best of Both Worlds), music is inherent in the plot. It's a good way of easing people who are less musical friendly into the narratives. A commercial move, and not one that I hope remains a trend because some of the best musicals had plots that were devoid of music, but one that is helping to bring musicals back to the mainstream.

Part of what makes these pieces escapism is that they literally allow the audience to join them. Once you've seen the movie once or twice, you can join in on the song with at least a hum if not a hearty belting out of lyrics along with the cast. You become, for two hours, part of the cast, part of a fiction separate from this sometimes-horrible world.



Escapism is what helps us endure the bad times.

Its this kind of escape that helps us cope with real world issues. If we are constantly beaten down by reality, we won't be able to cope with it.

I'm not sure why musicals fell out of fashion on screen. Broadway remained (and remains) a popular source of entertainment, with the huge successes of shows such as Phantom of the Opera, Rent, and the Book of Mormon. Yet we've forgotten to make these musicals more accessible by putting them on film.

Chicago crept its way back into the mainstream in the early 2000s with its cinematic adaptation starring Catherine Zeta-Jones and Renee Zellweger, but other adaptations have -- as of yet -- been scarce. We've, too, seen new twists on the musical, such as with Moulin Rouge, which used mashed up pop songs to populate the musical score. Slowly, but surely, the musical is coming back.

Sad times  have a way of making the seemingly irrelevant relevant again. When the economy boomed in the 90s, musicals were irrelevant. As we approached this recession -- and even now -- many wonder why we need superfluous films -- we should be spending money on creating more jobs, they say. Cut the arts programs in schools. Give more money to the sciences. English classes don't need new text books.

But they do. We do.

Musicals allow escape. Musicals bring refreshment. Musicals revitalize people, give them hope.
Which is why we can't let them go just yet. Musicals are important. Art is important. And not only are these things important, but they're more important when we lack the resources for them than when we do not, precisely because they will bring back the resources lost.

White Christmas image courtesy of Movie Moron.
Escapism image courtesy of nenny89.

Summer in Summary

I regretfully and shamefully come back to you after a long and unintended hiatus. That is, the coming back isn't regretful, but the fact that I have to come back because of this accidental hiatus is. I did not intend to leave you all for so long, but as they say, life happens. I had hoped, at the beginning of the summer, that I would faithfully record this summer because I expected it to be something great. And it was -- so great and busy, in fact, that I did not feel I had the energy to write  about it most days. I have a smattering of pictures sitting on Facebook as a sort of record, but beyond that, my personal journal's proof of the summer rests on exactly one entry, and everything else remains in my unreliable memory.

That said, I will attempt to recount all of the things that have happened of note in this entry.
Ghost, who I mentioned in a post some time ago, was presumably adopted. We went back to PetSmart several times, but his name and picture had been removed from the adoption binder next to the wall of cats. I sincerely hope he joined a good, loving family who can care for him better than I can.

I took last Friday off and met my boyfriend in the city. We went to the zoo and ate Lebanese food

At the Molon Lave winery.

after. I ate calamari for the first time. If you can get past the fact that the thing you're eating used to be waving, squirmy tentacles, it's not so bad. I also ate falafel. The following day we went to Molon Lave winery for a tour, wine tasting, and olive oil tasting. It was some of the best wine I've ever had -- very smooth, quite fruity -- and the olive oil included unique and surprisingly delicious flavors such as lemon and blood orange. It rained that day. Prior to the tour, we spent time in downtown Warrenton, where we ate in a basement restaurant called Brick. It was delicious. We got rained on during the walk back to the car but we survived. The town was lovely and I'd like to go back sometime.

One evening we drove to Walmart to pick up the futon my boyfriend ordered online. After lugging it out in the scorching heat to the back of the parking lot where the car was, we decided, after forty-five minutes of trying, that the futon was not going to fit. We returned it (which took another extended period of time, because Walmart was just not cooperating with us) and went back sweaty, exhausted, and annoyed. We ordered another piece of furniture from another place and got it sometime last week. It's been great having a couch to sit on.

Earlier in the summer we spent time in a part of DC before going to a Doctor Who happy hour at the Black Cat. Prior to the showing of "The Doctor's Daughter" we ate at Ben's Chili bowl (where only the President, his family, and Bill Cosby eat for free). We waited outside the bar after that. Inside, I had some kind of hard lemonade. In hindsight, I should've known it would be hard indeed when I watched three quarters of the glass fill with vodka.

We did the whole Fourth of July thing. That evening we walked from a metro to Roosevelt Island. We walked around Roosevelt Island, hoping to have a better view from the other side. No dice. As the sun was setting we did our best to find our way out to avoid getting stuck in the swampy mess that was the island and get back to the bridge. We got back in time, ate some granola bars, and

The marshy path on Roosevelt Island.

watched the half-tree-hidden fireworks with a dozen or so other people on the footbridge. We walked back from the metro and ended up walking about eight miles that evening.

My internship has been a mixed bag. I typically write a to-do list each day on my legal pad and highlight an item in orange when I've completed it. Some things are on-going and other things I finish in half-an-hour. I'm lucky that it's not like McDonalds in that I don't have to interact with people all day long. Mostly, I'm left to my own devices and trusted to be self-motivated, which I appreciate. Jameson and I talk when we feel like it and feed off each other's energy fairly well. We both contribute to the other's successes and depend on each other for answers and advice -- or moral support when we have to seek these things elsewhere. It's nice to know someone else is in the same place I am here.

I've made some big decisions about life after graduation. Those came in the last few days and I'm sure details will develop over time. I won't specify my decisions here and now in case things change. Just know I've been busy and thinking about these things.

I'm preparing to enter my final year at Hollins. It's sad, and I frequently think about people who were seniors when I came to Hollins. I remember specifically the SGA (student government association) president and my SSL (student success leader) at the time, Kyra Orr. I remember thinking how sophisticated and prepared for the world she seemed. How adult. Mature. Capable. Now I find myself in the same position she was three years ago, although my leadership positions and involvement differ from hers, I've no doubt we share an equal amount of responsibility. Still, I don't feel like I expected to feel. Hollins has, I know, prepared me for great things. But I thought I'd feel older. I thought I'd feel professional.

Really, I just feel like a kid.

I keep seeing quotes on the internet about how adults are really just kids pretending to be adults. Each day I find this to be more true. I still make a wish twice a day at 11:11. I still stay in my pajamas as

Still doing dumb kid things at the zoo.

long as possible. I still crave cake over vegetables. The difference now is I can choose to eat cake instead of vegetables because I'm an adult. And I'll pair it with a glass of sparkling wine, thank you very much.

My resume continues to grow with new experiences. Between my time at the National Science Foundation and a recent addition to my list of publications, I certainly look like I'm a professional adult. Yet, I look at my resume and wonder why I didn't write it in crayon, instead.