Palin! The Musical!

Yes, boys and girls, we all had a good time speculating on the possibilities of taking our beloved Sarah to Broadway: or some simulacrum thereof. Some of you might recall my testiness at the regularity with which the dreaded Happy Villagers kept showing up, discounting my peevishness as professional blague.

The other night, during a Judy Garland retrospective on TCM (live-blogged with Catt), it came to me. Trembling, I rushed to my iMac (thank you, Steve) to access youtube where I found to my horror that, yes…

THERE ALREADY IS A PALIN MUSICAL.

There. I’ve said it. True, the details are blurred, names are changed, it’s been shifted to another time and place, but there it is recast as the story of a once bright hope returning to the scene of her former glory. As Sarah enters the 2016 Republican convention no-one seems to remember who she is. Which prompts her to reclaim her position in a power ballad belted from the chest.

Take it away, Sarah… !

(Aside) Forgive the crap quality, this legendary number is not easy to find. Plus, unlike porn, musical theatre does not come in HD. Also, forgive the ridiculous intro. Whoever told you that actors were people too was lying but it only lasts 21 secs. Oh, and also, at 29 secs you will see a perfect example of Happy Villagers going boogata-boogata. Technical point: this is the lazy choreographer/director’s way to jazz up a set change: NO ONE IS FOOLED. I can practically hear them shouting from the back of the stalls, “Flash the lallies! Zhuzh the frock, Sell it. Sell it!”  The costumes are from the brilliant Anthony Powell (fashion sidebar: the white fur cuffs, plunging neckline, and diamantée accents are there to define the body and gestures against the dark background. He was one of the greats. How much do we think that outfit-suit, furs, shoes, wig, jewelry, cost? $30,000? Being conservative here). The acting is from hunger. Oh, and one last tech note, the very nice story told by the spot traveling across the stage to find the star is botched by the dumbass TV director. The spot hitting her face is what ‘motivates’, as we used to say back before Rent and its idiot step-child Glee, the number: this is a moment that only musical theatre can do: it isn’t opera, it isn’t operetta; it is something deeply schlocky that will bring a dampness to your underpants and make you reach over to your companion’s crotch when witnessed live.

So, without further ado, Sarah, abandoned by Todd, shunned by Bristol (who has her own chat show on Fox), despised by Piper (lost to a crack house in Philadelphia) returns to the scene of her former triumph…

As if She Never Said Goodbye!