Apologies for not posting the past couple of days. A combination of “unusually busy” and “unusually gouty” conspired to make sitting in front of the computer a work-only proposition the past few days, which is a shame because I’ve sent about a thousand emails home this week for stuff I wanted to link. So many people on this ‘net thingy who say things nicer than me do. Expect an omnibus post later today, maybe.
In the meantime, here’s something frivolous to bore you.
Following suggested songs on Youtube this morning lead me to this old classic from Lionel Ritchie, “Hello”. Great song, great video, except for one little quibble:
The entire premise of the video is that he’s pining for this girl and that there is a distance between them that he wants to overcome. This is repeatedly expressed in the video as an attempt on his part to get physically close to her and being rebuffed by the circumstances of their existing relationship. Fine. The creative powers behind the story decided to make her blind. Fine. They also decided the story needed to close with him discovering she has similar feelings for him.
All good so far.
So how do they have her express her feelings? By sculpting his bust. From the memory of what his face feels like. Because she’s a blind art student (again, for no particular reason other than the video’s creators thought it made a pretty predictable story line more interesting). So she’s been touching his face, and it is implied by her lanuguage that this has been a long term project, which I have to assume means she’s needed repeated samples.
So how do we reconcile his yearning caused by the physical gulf between them with the certain knowledge that she regularly touches his entire face? Doesn’t this completely undermine the whole story? The buildup shows that he thinks he’s an outsider to her world; the climax is the revelation that he’s been on her mind the whole time, but at the very same instant the climax implies that he has not been an outsider at all, but someone with whom she is regularly physically intimate. Maybe while he’s sedated or something. (Ooooh, creepy twist ending. Insane Clown Posse would call that a missed opportunity, if they used multisyllabic words.)
For further adventures in storylines that trainwreck at the end for no reason at all other than an almost criminal lack of logical coherence, go back and watch the heart wrenching travesty that was Battlestar Galactica (no links for bullshit). On this I will say no more.
As Jeff G. at Protein Wisdom would put it,