Can you stand it, darlings? Are you nervous about how the show will hold up under the pressure of sophomore year, a pressure intensified by two Emmy awards (yay, Jane!), that killer Springsteen sendup that opened the Emmy show, and a New York Times mag story declaring it a "bona fide phenomenon?" (Click on that Times link to see the whole glorious gallery of Todd Heisler photos from the set of Glee. You'll be glad you did.) The Times credits the show with "inspiring a resurgent interest in musical theater among young people," which we're pretty sure means it is making kids gay, something we think all the best shows do. (You know, like this one.)
Our pal Jill Dolan over at The Feminist Spectator did a nice piece on Glee early last season that did a great job of capturing the show's "incipient queerness" and its gently satirical take on adolescence and the pop-cultural faith in big dreams and bigger song-and-dance numbers. We think Jill's right, though we have to confess we turn off our irony meters every time Lea Michele, who plays Rachel, opens her mouth. Her sublime duet with Chris Colfer (Kurt) on "Defying Gravity?" Her audacious take on a song we thought no one on earth but Barbra Streisand should be allowed to perform? We think the show is seriously invested in the potent combination of discipline, desire, and jaw-dropping talent that fuels Rachel, or maybe that's just us, or, more precisely, the one of us who felt like a nerdy outsider in high school, except, of course, for those moments on stage, when the lights go down and the music begins and everything is . . . possible.
I gotta fly once, I gotta try once,We digress, darlings, as we are wont to do when reminded of old dreams and the different forms they assume over the course of a life. Suffice it to say we are looking forward to S2 of Glee, which we hope will do a better job of negotiating the politics of race and disability than it did in its freshman season. Much as we adore Rachel, we hope to see and hear more of Mercedes this year, and we pray every night before our shrine to Judy Garland that the show's writers will realize that disabled characters can bring more to a plot than opportunities for able-bodied characters to be inspired, ennobled, or "helpful." Please, folks, this year could we let the deaf kids perform a song all by themselves? I mean, srsly, imagine that!
Only can die once, right, sir?
Ooh, life is juicy, juicy and you see,
I gotta have my bite, sir.
Have a Gleeful week, my pretties, and remember that in our book every single one of you is the rose of sheer perfection. March your band out. Beat your drum. And when it's your turn at bat, slam the little sucker right out of the park. Because you can.
(H/T to a Queerly Optimistic friend for knowing we would want to peek inside Sue Sylvester's closet.)