On account of being sik, I spent my evening on the sofa, snuffling pitifully and watching old Hollywood musicals. I started out with There's No Business Like Show Business because it has Ethel Merman and Marilyn Monroe AND Donald O'Conner in it, but the film didn't seem to do much with any of them. There was a great deal of noise, but not much music. There was a great deal of technicolor drapery and swirling, but not much dancing or choreography. Lots of jokes, not much humor, and a great deal of Marilyn Monroe wearing not very much at ALL. Her character sings in nightclubs, but her costume has chrome nipples on tips of its spangled pneumatic front and that's all I have to say about that. Poor Donald O'Conner was forced to dance the highland fling to a New Orleans Blues version of Alexander's Ragtime Band - and Ethel Merman? She had precisely two speeds - full throttle and off, and no-one seemed to be able to get near the off button.
After ten minutes and six musical comedy numbers, Mr Tabubil looked up from his book and said "You know what? This is just like porn. A tottery, badly acted plot to give a thin string of connection to the noisy bits. And the noisy bits? They're an aesthetic abomination. And the apparent sincerity of the actors? Yeah, they're faking it."
So we put on Broadway Melody of 1940 with Fred Astaire and Eleanor Powell instead, and Mr Tabubil forgot that he isn't supposed to approve of movies that aren't in color, and we watched happily until bedtime.