To wash the bile-tastic taste of last night’s Gossip Girl, my friend Brynn and I decided to turn to someone we knew we can always trust to entertain and delight, even in our darkest of ours. That special someone is Joan Crawford, and last night, she was our Dancing Lady.
We watched the ending because I’d completely passed out the previous time we attempted to watch it late one night (a belly full of pot roast and a few Joan Crawfords will do that to you, so don’t judge me!).
Dancing Lady is a 1933 musical starring Joan Crawford and Clark Gable (who, by the by, is ridicu-handsome in his youth). I’d bother and try to explain the plot, but the plot is paper-thin, and Dancing Lady is really just an excuse to let the sparks fly between Crawford and Gable (their scene at the gym is a hysterical and sexy in the same breath) while uber-producer of the era, David O. Selznick, tries his best to recreate the magic of the Busby Berkeley musicals. Oh, and the Three Stooges are in it. And Fred Astaire makes his screen debut in it. Here’s just a taste of the singing, dancing madness:
They dance on a magic carpet before landing in Bavaria to sing the joys of German beer? It’s both obvious and logical to ask, “What in the hell?”, but I prefer to simply ask, “Why the hell not?” Trust me, it’ll ease you into the total explosion of insanity that is the finale: