Ricci, Where Are You?
On DCist blurbing about Baltimore’s Restaurant Week:
Okay, so I know we’re being baited here, and I’m probably doing more damage to my own position by responding than by not, but I have to say that that last sentence is potentially the most condescending thing ever written on DCist about Baltimore. Adam Bailey is willing to generously concede that we do have a relatively nice airport and admit that a toothless Hollywood musical was set here, as though Hairspray was borne in a vacuum and the powers that be couldn’t decide to set it in Milwaukee or St. Louis and finally settled on sticking it in Baltimore instead.
Although I would like to take a brief pause to point out that there is absolutely nothing good-natured about DCist’s past examples of supposed taunting of their neighbor to the north. In fact, I wouldn’t even use the word “taunting.” I’ve seen many examples of sneering contempt. I’ve seen condescension. I’ve seen even more examples of pompous and falsely presumptuous misguided authority. Buddies taunt one another. You’re not our buddy, we can assure you. So, if you would be so kind, refrain from slapping us on our back and pretending to be old pals because it serves you this week. Not after the shit you’ve been shoving down our throats for the past few years. If you try, we’ll just turn around and spit in your eye.
Although I do find it very cute that you thought Hairspray was “great.” I can’t say that I’m much of a fan of musicals myself; but I’m neither a thirteen year old girl or an old sissy Mary, so I’m willing to admit that they’re not really made for me. I did go see it this week, though. I may not be a gay, but I am gay for Baltimore, so I had to give it a chance. I’ll even admit that when Tracy Turnblad sang:
I love you Baltimore
Every day's like an open door
Every night is a fantasy
Every sound's like a symphony
And i promise Baltimore
That some day when
I take to the floor
The world's gonna wake up and see
Gonna wake up and see
Baltimore and me...
I got a little choked up. But that was in the first five minutes. The next 112 minutes were pure agony for me. It was melba toast. Even though I tried, I simply could not get the superior source material out of my head. I’ve always thought of Waters’ 1988 original as his most friendly family work, and it probably was, but I never appreciated how fantastic and edgy the original was until I suffered through the remake. With every single scene, with every single performance, I found myself longing for their original counterparts. The only thing that got me through the movie was that I was actually playing the real one in my head instead of paying attention to it.
To me, to watch the remake and think that it was great would be like if the Carpenters had done a cover of the “House of the Rising Sun” with Karen Carpenter parroting the lyrics that I had originally heard sung by Eric Burdon, and to consider her version as possibly great by comparison.
But of course I feel that way. I’m Baltimorean. I’ve got an edge. Perhaps if I was a Washingtonian I’d feel differently.
Update:
I mean, seriously, how could anyone with an ounce of taste stomach Travolta's performance when compared to artistry such as this?
Online Videos by Veoh.com
Rest in peace, our Helen of Baltimore. We'll never allow the fires at your alter to be extinguished.
Baltimore Restaurant Week Opening to be a Blowout
O.K., so we might get a little carried away with our good-natured taunting of neighbor to the north, Baltimore. They do have a really nice airport and are the setting for Hairspray (it's great, go see it)...
Okay, so I know we’re being baited here, and I’m probably doing more damage to my own position by responding than by not, but I have to say that that last sentence is potentially the most condescending thing ever written on DCist about Baltimore. Adam Bailey is willing to generously concede that we do have a relatively nice airport and admit that a toothless Hollywood musical was set here, as though Hairspray was borne in a vacuum and the powers that be couldn’t decide to set it in Milwaukee or St. Louis and finally settled on sticking it in Baltimore instead.
Although I would like to take a brief pause to point out that there is absolutely nothing good-natured about DCist’s past examples of supposed taunting of their neighbor to the north. In fact, I wouldn’t even use the word “taunting.” I’ve seen many examples of sneering contempt. I’ve seen condescension. I’ve seen even more examples of pompous and falsely presumptuous misguided authority. Buddies taunt one another. You’re not our buddy, we can assure you. So, if you would be so kind, refrain from slapping us on our back and pretending to be old pals because it serves you this week. Not after the shit you’ve been shoving down our throats for the past few years. If you try, we’ll just turn around and spit in your eye.
Although I do find it very cute that you thought Hairspray was “great.” I can’t say that I’m much of a fan of musicals myself; but I’m neither a thirteen year old girl or an old sissy Mary, so I’m willing to admit that they’re not really made for me. I did go see it this week, though. I may not be a gay, but I am gay for Baltimore, so I had to give it a chance. I’ll even admit that when Tracy Turnblad sang:
Every day's like an open door
Every night is a fantasy
Every sound's like a symphony
And i promise Baltimore
That some day when
I take to the floor
The world's gonna wake up and see
Gonna wake up and see
Baltimore and me...
I got a little choked up. But that was in the first five minutes. The next 112 minutes were pure agony for me. It was melba toast. Even though I tried, I simply could not get the superior source material out of my head. I’ve always thought of Waters’ 1988 original as his most friendly family work, and it probably was, but I never appreciated how fantastic and edgy the original was until I suffered through the remake. With every single scene, with every single performance, I found myself longing for their original counterparts. The only thing that got me through the movie was that I was actually playing the real one in my head instead of paying attention to it.
To me, to watch the remake and think that it was great would be like if the Carpenters had done a cover of the “House of the Rising Sun” with Karen Carpenter parroting the lyrics that I had originally heard sung by Eric Burdon, and to consider her version as possibly great by comparison.
But of course I feel that way. I’m Baltimorean. I’ve got an edge. Perhaps if I was a Washingtonian I’d feel differently.
Update:
I mean, seriously, how could anyone with an ounce of taste stomach Travolta's performance when compared to artistry such as this?
Online Videos by Veoh.com
Rest in peace, our Helen of Baltimore. We'll never allow the fires at your alter to be extinguished.
posted by dcistgohome at 11:25 PM
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