“Put the blame on Mame, boys…”
Image by © Underwood & Underwood/CORBIS
So, I caved and went to see This Is It with my family last weekend. I removed my intense cynicism about the exploitation of MJ’s memory and just gave in, and I’m immensely glad I did. I danced in my seat. I was awed. I almost teared up … almost. All in all, This Is It functioned as the King of Pop’s redemption, his validation. It served to remind you, and those who chose to forget, and those who chose to believe the awful things they heard about it, that he was a force to be reckoned with. Kenny Ortega gently reminded us that there was no other, is no other, and never will be another entertainer like Michael Jackson. I smell a DVD purchase …
But despite all the moments of pure joy I experienced watching This Is It, none got me in quite the way that the reworking of “Smooth Criminal” did. Not because I was obsessed with “Smooth Criminal,” and knew the long and short version of it. Not because I knew, and still know, most of the moves. But because Michael had enough class and taste, and enough of a respect for the Golden Era of film to rework and reinterpret the “Smooth Criminal” video to include that seminal moment in film: Rita Hayworth, sexpot extraordinaire and undercover Spaniard, in Gilda, singing and coochie-cooing and making everyone blissfully uncomfortable with the sexy number “Put The Blame on Mame.” It remains, to this day, one of my favourite movie moments.
The R Word: Rave. Damn, they really don’t make celebrities like this anymore. I lament the changing of tides, but I always have Gilda, and Rita Hayworth’s hair, to see me through.
