High School Musical. No Shit. A Critical Review of Seaholm High School's production of Footloose.

The harrowing preamble of the Kenny Loggins-pired overture to "Footloose" imposed its berserking will on unsuspecting theater-goers, laying waste to even the most seasoned community-theater-fancier and Mr. Doso, AP Chemistry teacher, in 4/4 time. No one seated in the raked, American procenium-styled auditorium suspected that even the most casual of musical-theater supporters (including a group of high school bitches in row H who kept fucking up the wireless microphone headset signals because they kept texting each other about how to suck even more or how 'hott' Ren (Colby Holdings) looked in a scandalously loose tie, popped collar, and 'down to business' sleeves-up blazer--JUMPBACK!! WTF) would become casualties by the first exeunt. The shock and awe of the spectacle made me wonder if I was seeing a high school production of "Footloose" or if I might have inadvertently stepped into some sort of awesome land mine and blew the shit out of my life and was all dead and flew up to some sort of Kevin Bacon-themed amusement park in heaven and shit. Six degrees of shit yeah. Six Flags of Kevin Bacon? Six Degrees over Kevin Bacon. 65 degrees of raging boner! The musical accompaniment proved to pack the 1-2 punch that the Fall production of "Dirty Dancing" sorely lacked. Several school officials blamed the lackluster performance on the Boosters (it's always their fucking fault), but orchestra pit insider and Cellist, Phillip A. Tang, indicated that an intense and distracting turf war between the Musical Ensemble and Jazz Ensemble lead to missed practices, tuba wounds, broken reeds, clogged spit valves, and even worse acne for the percussion section. 

  With a tender but assured performance from lead floutist, Jennifer Shoreler, who seemed to be preoccupied between flouts by adjusting an oversized Jodeci sweater that kept falling off her shoulder, picking Red Vines licorice remnants out of her braces, and guffawing at cut-up Brandon Donker (making rude hand gestures at the expense of contrabassoonist Shawnda Stevens' adolescence) the Footloose ensemble masterfully provided the poignant soundtrack to the show- including three hits (Almost Paradise- Mike Reno feat. Ann Wilson, Let's Hear It for the Boy- Deniece Williams, and Footloose- Kenny Loggins)- Waiting For a Girl Like You by Foreigner being the glaring omission, of course.

music alone doesn't make a musical. I realize that sounds counterintuitive, but you know where i'm headed. Colby fucking Holdings. O.K., if you're going to do Ren McCormick, you've got some mighty big docksiders to fill (not only Bacon, but Adrian Zmed's Branson, Missouri production). Unfortunately, Holdings is about a penny shy of a full loafer. He might think about sticking with some sensible balmorals, some gouache moc-toed kilties, or even a nice Algonquin paneltoe. Can I stretch this metaphor out any longer? can i be any more bored of a blog? Fuck this, i'm going to go watch project Runway instead.