For some reason I have been agonizing over this next post all day. And now that I have polished off two and a half glasses of wine on a Friday night alone at home (how thrilling it all is), I think I am finally ready to tackle this overly unimportant little project of mine. I have recently been thinking about dance (mildly unsurprising) and how sweetly and uniquely universal it is. Like masturbating or picking one’s nose, everyone has at some point danced in their life, it has a grossly human quality to it. Even if it is a forgotten and unmelodic adorable bounce in nappies whilst bemused adults watch on and encourage you. I feel I can say with a wine-induced confidence that we have all been victims to moving our bodies to some sort of rhythm.
I am mostly interested in the sort of dance that belongs to the silly fringe contemporary performing art scene or what have you, (ie. the sort of dance no one really cares about) but there is something magical about the dance that comes out of pop music. After all, pop music is there to make the masses move their bodies with almost certainly a sexual agenda, making it always infinitely more interesting than the sort of dance that happens on stage or in galleries. A small part of me maintains that ‘serious’ and ‘artistic’ dance is all a ruse and fad for the bored white upper middle class tertiary educated girls (such as myself) to entertain themselves with. The writhing and grooving and dancing to pop music, however, is here to stay.
Embarrassingly enough, it was UbuWeb that led me to the music video for Fatboy Slim’s song ‘Weapon of Choice’; a solo starring Christopher Walken and choreographed by Michael Rooney, Christopher Walken and Spike Jonze, who directed the music video. (A collaborative effort, no?) I was a pious and clueless ten year old when this music video was made which perhaps just might allow me to get away with the fact that I saw the video for the first time today. The close-up, t-rex hands-Christopher-Walken-stare-down part might just be my favourite bit:
But really, this is a beautifully choreographed thing in all its simplicity and groovy vibes. The quick build-up and casual explosion of Dancing Joy confirms our undying fondness for the incorrigible Christopher Walken. (Seriously, I know many despising cynical hipster youth, managing to only enjoy their lives through irony and fear and I still haven’t found someone who openly dislikes the man).
Somehow the use of one middle-aged white man in a suit evades the corniness one expects from such dance moves and flips the choreography into a sincere and honest performance. I think this also has something to do with the fine choreographic line of ‘accessible’ and ‘original’. (Also, the resolute and determined way in which Walken commits to the choreography means in no way could it possibly be anything other than successful). I love the scene with the mirrors, turning the solo into a perfectly in-time dancing chorus of Christophers Walking all over the place. (I’m sorry – I had to.) His dive off the balcony is something we all wanted but never expected and it completes the much-desired dream of dancing alone in an abandoned hotel with the sexiest hue and colour palet. (Colour palet?)
But why I am still drunkenly typing? Why I am openly admitting to blogging whilst drinking? Why do we so calmly allow such an unattractive word as ‘blogging’ to exist? Enough of these questions and half-hearted musings. Watch the video (if you haven’t already) and please, for me, go out and boogie on this Friday night and forget I used the word ‘boogie’ in a beseeching sentence. Oh god.