Listlessly trolling through the tedious Netflix offerings–LORD, how it reminds me of those ancient days of fruitlessly scanning the shelves at video stores, finally stomping out empty handed, in a frenzy of sulky despair–I came across that old chestnut, Blazing Saddles. Which I have always eschewed as VULGAR and not befitting a lady’s attention. MEL BROOKS! Les bras m’en tombent. But, the mood was on me, and I bid Netflix show me the peccant morsel.
WELL.
It certainly is vulgar, though of course outstripped completely by more recent productions. It is also completely OUTRAGEOUS.
I cannot deny that I was entertained. Partly by the total outrageousness.
Lordie, lordie, how those delicate young students of today with their triggers and safe spaces would HOWL–could this movie be made today? Surely not. And everyone connected with this Indecent Immoral and Completely Unacceptable Movie of Godlessness condemned to be cast into the Outer Darkness! AND have their internet connection wrest from them! AND forced to undergo Sensitivity Training for a thousand years!
There are many quotes from this movie, which is still adored by a vast company of fans online. For example. The one that made me squawk with mirth was the moment when Gene Wilder beckons to the two Ku Klux Klanners (all decked out in sheets, with ‘Have a Nice Day’ inscribed on their backs) saying “Hey BOYS–look what I got hyeah”–and up pops handsome Cleavon Little: “Hey, where the white women at?” Made me chortle, I admit.
Yesterday I was walking in Silver Spring and it was early evening, and there was a singer down in the park, singing Nightshift. A song about loved people gone, lost to death. I was thinking about Blazing Saddles, as it happened, and Gene Wilder and Cleavon Little came to mind. Both on the night shift now.
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