They’re not just narratives; they’re snapshots in time, moments of pure joy.

Just like this scene from The Lost Boys, which came out in July of 1987. This means that they probably filmed in 1986, that moment when the 80s were just realizing what they could really become. It was a time of innocence and wonder; a time when a man needed only purple tights, leather underwear, and some chains to be fully dressed; a time when Jami Gertz had a promising career. (Remember Quicksilver? Anyone?…anyone?)

Full disclosure: this actually takes me back to a time when I was in high school and taking Photography. This was back when you had to know how to wind the film on the spokes in the dark and then pour in the developer and shake the canister, and if you did one thing wrong you ended up with a bunch of underdeveloped splotches and chemical burns on your hands, and then you had to develop each of the prints by hand using a series of complicated machines that they use for background props in movies like Splice now.

With the hours and hours of after-school work necessary to take that photo of your parents’ backyard and make it into something you could pass off as your “Garden” assignment (because your photos of the Botanical Gardens looked like a thin black plate with some cottage cheese on it), you had to have something to listen to as you stumbled around in the darkroom accidentally bleaching the crap out of your clothes. And for whatever reason, the soundtrack to The Lost Boys did the trick, and I must have spent about 800 man-hours that year with it on repeat on my Discman (FOR CDs – WOW, this was long ago).

That is to say: this clip is cheesy and dorky and hilarious, and I am fully implicated in it, because I have heard this song about a bajillion times in my youth, and I probably loved it every time.

This is what happens when you hit your biannual Bollywood kick right before you get on a plane: this song, in a loop on your head, for two hours.

Here’s the thing: it’s a really upbeat, catchy song, performed by Madhuri Dixit (who, for my money, is one of the best in Bollywood). If you do not read the lyrics, it sounds like the best time ever.

But if you read the lyrics, it is the happiest song about questionable-consent field-going EVER.

This alternate translation is even less encouraging of flirty/fun-time readings, since the words “by force” appear often.

I saw somewhere that this is a folk song? She said, not knowing a damn thing. (Then again, that might have been YouTube comments, which are hardly citable.)

Of course, if it was, everyone’s folktales/songs have undertones of Ye Ole Questionable Materiale, so it’s hardly fair to single out any particular song from anywhere (and using only one of many possible translations) for having strange subject matter (I mean, Grimm’s Fairy Tales, anyone?). I’m just saying that I first came across this clip without the translation, and enjoyed having it stuck in my head, and then I found the translation, and now I don’t know what to think. It’s too catchy to be wrong! Right?

P.S. It has now been stuck in my head four days and counting. I don’t even know.

P.P.S. The movie this is from is Anjaam, the first pairing of Madhuri and Shahrukh Khan, who would go on to partner her in several movies, my favorite of which is Devdas. (I have a total soft spot for sweeping historical epics, as you’ll see.) The plot of this movie, summed up as succintly as possible on Wikipedia. (You should click it; it’s a work of art.)

I have seen this whole movie, and can confirm it is exactly as cracktacular as it sounds. Immediate addition to the list of my favorite potboilers.

Last week I stumbled on what is possibly the best historical doc ever on the Discovery Channel:

Cleopatra, Portrait of a Killer. (To be pronounced “KILLAH!” with Gloria Swanson eyes.)

Their premise is that Cleopatra, because she hinted around at various Romans until her brother/husband and her half-sister got bumped off and left her sitting pretty on the throne, is a stone-cold killer. Also they have an extra five minutes to fill, so we’re going to reconstruct some bones we found in Arsinoe’s tomb and decide where she came from! (Not interesting enough for its own show, I guess, but apparently a nice way to bring home the fact that Arsinoe was dispatched by a KILLAH.)

Here’s the problem with that: they must think we have never heard of a royal family before. Killing each other is what royal families more or less exist to do. (Last one standing gets the throne, you guys!) So, the fact that Cleopatra exerted some influence to rid herself of rivals to the throne is business as usual, and doing everything you can to keep yourself in power is not only business as usual, but history sort of vilifies you if you can’t manage it, so you might as well really go for it and become Oxnard the Wrathful or whatever instead of Plinkerton the Waffling.

(Also, if we’re talking about someone who is not afraid to fight for the throne, the ghost of Henry VIII heard this TV show title and looked up, superoffended.)

On the other hand, “Cleopatra: Portrait of Moderate Political Acumen” doesn’t have the same ring to it, I guess.

But long as we’re still competing for incestuous, murderous royal families, there’s another amber-filtered desert-dwelling monarchy that makes Cleopatra’s friends look like an episode of Blackadder. Just saying.

On the plus side, this had the best history-documentary extras EVER. They were really going for it, especially Cleopatra and Arsinoe, who did more intense-head-turns-to-the-camera than any other history documentary has ever attempted.

I think I’ve talked about this before, but I REALLY love extras. Extras in big movies, extras in small movies, accidental extras in crowd scenes, extras who look right at the camera, extras who are falling asleep, extras who outdance the leads, extras who are into it above and beyond the call of duty and gesticulate wildly in the background having a peas-and-carrots fight. But perhaps no extras are closer to my heart than the extras in historical documentaries, who usually look a little confused as to why they’re doing whatever they’re doing, but gamely push forward into a castle siege or something, just like they were told.

These extras came to win, though. They threw shade at each other and had silent freakouts and threw jewelry all over the place! I actually enjoy this Cleopatra in a completely non-facetious way, and watched the entire hour because I loved how much fun she was clearly having. You make it happen, Cleopatra!

Below, a clip from the show for your enjoyment. (She was a KILLAH!)

I swear I am working on very long posts about movies and TV shows and narrative structure and how poor Ron Perlman’s skin must be like titanium by now after all these years of pancake makeup.

In the meantime, however, I wanted to post something that is:

1) the best part of my day so far, and
2) what most of my first drafts look like: corpse- and transposed-letter-heavy.

As the workload is heavy, blogging this week will be light. So here, have something fun!

I’m sure everyone in the world has seen this already, but still: for whatever reason, I like the Drunk History series. (Minus the ones that show barfing. Come on, people, there’s no need.) My favorite is the Oney Judge episode below; there’s something so earnest about it, and the hiccups are amazing.

But the best part of this is the hand-smacking “SHE. LIVED. IN. THE WOODS,” because now my sister and I can use that whenever things are terrible, and no one around us knows what’s going on. Except, now, all of you. Keep that under your hat, everyone.