I don't like musicals. I just can't buy the idea of people spontaneously breaking into song. It smells of bad cheese. Although, there are some exceptions. Spamalot is one of them, redeemed by the comedic genius of Monty Python, and Baz Luhrmann's Moulin Rouge with its brilliant reworking of modern pop songs. Apart from that, I cringe at the thought of watching people sing dialogue.
Until now... Glee is breaking my stone-cold, anti-musical heart. Glee kicks ass. It's a combination of prime-time soap opera and musical numbers performed by incredibly talented people. And I would be remiss if I didn't mention Jane Lynch who steals every friggin' scene with her comedic prowess. Love her. Glee is one of a precious few TV shows this season that don't suck. And it's been picked up for a full season. This reassures me that there are still people out there with a modicum of intelligence who can appreciate something a little more refined.
That being said, last night when my boyfriend asked me if I wanted to go to the theatre with him, I scoffed at the very idea. It was Tuesday night. Hell's Kitchen is on Tuesday night, and they were down to the final four chefs. Like I even had to think about it. The tragedy here is that I'm a playwright. What I did last night was a sacrilege. I chose reality TV over live theatre, mind candy over culture, pulp fiction over literature. You get the idea.
Yeah, I'm a TV whore. I admit it. And if TV can make me like musicals, we're all in trouble.