Cyd, left: “Fred, how many times have I told you to wear tighter pants? Your amazingly muscular butt gets lost in that flour-sack abomination.”
Fred, right: “Are we really talking about this right now? Just as I’m about to hurl you in the air for a triple-flip and then catch you? Is this really a wise moment to make me consider dropping you?”
Cyd: “Sorry. I can’t breathe in this dress and we’ve been dancing for twenty minutes while the screenwriters figure out the next part of this movie. And I do so love the triple-flip, as that’s the only time I get to rest while you carry the show for once. Plus, there’s that naughty moment during the dismount when you almost get a glimpse of my Baby Jane.”
Fred: “I can’t stand it when you call it that. Why does it have to have a name? And why do you have to talk about it?”
Cyd: “Oh, please. Like men don’t name their cattle prods. Of course, maybe you’ve never even found yours in that flour sack and you haven’t gotten around to a proper christening.”
Fred: “And I think I’m done with this part of the conversation. We need to finish this dance. Let’s catapult Baby Jane through the stratosphere so we can get paid and leave.”
Cyd: “Wait, before my hoo-hoo goes high-high, I just have a question.”
Fred: “Something tells me I won’t have the answer.”
Cyd: “Why are the men behind us not able to sit in a chair like a normal human being. What’s with the weird squatting? Did they go to Caveman High? Is it a blockage of some kind?”
Fred: “Maybe they want to get out of this scene just as badly as I do.”
Cyd: “And that woman in the left corner. Did somebody stab her in the head with a plumed dagger? I thought they stopped doing that mess when France stopped having incredibly-effeminate kings.”
Fred: “Wow. I can’t even begin to… that dress really must be cutting off the blood flow to your brain.”
Cyd: “I’ve been trying to tell you that all night, Pillsbury. Now, let’s get airborne.”
Director: “Folks, the writers still don’t have a new scene because they’re arguing over screen credits. Let’s keep the cameras rolling and let’s keep dancing and squatting suspiciously.”
Fred: “Aw, hell. Well, we might be doing the triple-flip more times than either of us can psychologically process.”
Cyd: “I was born in Texas. I’ve been through worse. Prepare for launch.”
Baby Jane: “I’m ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille.”
Categories: Past Imperfect
Bonnywood Manor 
My grandad’s name was Sid, which is almost the same. He was an abysmal dancer but, on the plus side, he could drink beer until he toppled forwards onto his face. An admirable trait in a man I always maintain
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An admirable trait, indeed, although I can no longer carry off such an act with the finesse I once possessed. For the record, my granddad’s name was Francis, and I was actually supposed to be Francis the third. Luckily my dad was so mortified at being christened Francis Junior that he made sure the tentative tradition was broken… 😉
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You’re usual rich fill of humour, Brian with the added bonus of seeing Karl Malden in the background and discovering Cyd was a woman rather than the brilliant character actor I’d imagined him to be 🙂
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Uh oh. Now that you’ve deftly done some Karl-spotting, I feel compelled to rewrite this one, again. (I had just changed the story up from the original version of Past Imperfect 31 that appeared on Crusty Pie.) I’ll keep you updated as I’m sure you’re dying to know whatever happened to Baby Jane… 😉
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Tsk, tsk, tsk!! That’s GENE KELLEY (kelly?) sir, not Fred Astaire. But you get points for naming Cyd Charisse correctly… I agree. One of my simple pleasures in life is viewing the (he’s dead I think) muscular butt muscles of Mr. Kelly. Who just “wanted to dance”…. Like Fred. 😉
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Hi, Embeecee. Actually, that really is Fred Astaire, although now that you’ve mentioned Gene Kelly and I study the photo again, the grimace on Fred’s face does make him look a bit like Mr. Kelly. The photo is from the “Girl Hunt Ballet” sequence in the movie “The Band Wagon”. Here’s a clip for your amusement:
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Gene Kelly had a lower center of gravity, and unlike Astaire never scared me or reminded me of someone who would sit in an old brown car with dry rotted interior and watch school children at recess. And that squatting background thing? Sooner of later Twyla Tharp will be old enough to put them in tuxedos and make them move to distract the audience from how scary Astaire really is.
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Eep. Problem with black and white…you can’t see the COLORS…she is wearing a red dress in your reference and in mine (clip provided for your amusement) she’s wearing green. The trouble with opening one’s mouth is that one can easily insert a foot. My apologies…I SHOULD know better! 😉 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7YWBOfsXsDA
What did Samuel Clemens say? Or Abraham Lincoln? Or some old guy from the Bible?
http://quoteinvestigator.com/2010/05/17/remain-silent/
Thanks for the clip! It was amusing! (and Gene Kelly said “Gotta dance!” Another mistake) >sigh< Well it's MONDAY and a new day, right? The sun might even shine! 😀
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Was Cyd Charisse REALLY from Texas?! Wow!
I always thought she was mesmerizing. Maybe the only person who could take my eyes off Gene Kelley, and the only one worthy to be his dance partner. (I believe I’ve mentioned my devotion for Kelley, yes?)
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Yep, Cyd was born in Amarillo, birth name Tula Ellice Finklea. (The middle name is kinda swell, isn’t it?) She had polio as a child and took ballet lessons to build up her strength. And yes, you’ve subtly mentioned a few times that you were googly for Gene, rhapsodizing eloquently about a lusty tango… 😉
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