If you want to, you can rhyme it with bazooka

After weeks of accelerating insomnia, I did not sleep at all last night and everything hurts. This is not at all the post I planned to make today, but it has just come to my attention and you will see in a moment why it requires sharing.

Boston-area people! Do you remember that time four years ago when I went to New York City to see Busby Berkeley's inexpressibly batshit Technicolor musical The Gang's All Here (1943) with derspatchel and rushthatspeaks and ladymondegreen and came home raving about Edward Everett Horton's lipstick and Carmen Miranda's tutti-frutti hat? The HFA will be screening this film in early December as part of what looks like a buttload of Busby Berkeley. I'll link to the series page when it becomes available, but for now I wish to point out that the list of available titles includes not just mainstays like 42nd Street (1933) and Gold Diggers of 1933 (1933), but non-musical oddities like Fast and Furious (1938), non-musical dramas like They Made Me a Criminal (1939), and the rest of the Gold Diggers series up through Gold Diggers in Paris (1938), which is the one I haven't seen. Do I think Roman Scandals (1933) with Eddie Cantor will be any good in the usual sense of the word? Do I care? One of these movies is just called Dames (1934). If it wouldn't give me a migraine, I would be strongly inclined to park myself in the front row like Wittgenstein with a couple of cold pork pies and just watch the Technicolor go by for weeks. As I have some sense of sociopolitical responsibility (and not that much money) and don't actually want a migraine, I will probably just bring the pork pie in honor of Carmen Miranda and sit at the back of the theater like usual, but I hope that many of you will join me. The Gang's All Here is really very difficult to explain. Wovon man nicht sprechen kann, darüber muß man schweigen.