C, her friend O, and I went to see the Michael Jackson movie last night. I never saw MJ in concert during my youth (mostly because my parents weren't too keen on me sleeping out in front of Independent Records in Colorado Springs to assure a spot in line). OK, that's actually why I never saw U2 in concert. Truth is, in addition to not being allowed to sleep on the sidewalk in crackhead central (darn parents!), I felt like I saw all Michael had to offer in his videos.
How wrong I was. I loved seeing his spontaneous dance sequences and hearing that yes, his voice really does sound that good live. I liked the movie, had to do a little seated boogie a few times during the show, and I was pleasantly surprised that they didn't try to milk too much emotion regarding his death. It was a great tribute to a genius/perfectionist/tragic figure.
The girls enjoyed the first hour or so and then I noticed that they started to glaze over. In their defense, there was a lot of crotch grabbing - far more than any 11-year-old girl can comfortably watch.
So, go see it. Expect to be wowed. Expect a lot of crotch grabbing. Enjoy the seriously rockin' female guitar player. Expect to wish that you would have started taking dance lessons at, say, birth.
Seriously, is it too late for me to become a professional backup dancer (you know, once I'm able to stand upright without pain again)??
Keep in mind my deep need for delusion before you answer that.
Thanks.
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