Pour a cup of coffee and wait for the pictures to load, kittens!
Funny Girl is the story of an ugly Jewish girl from Immigrantville with a great voice and to-die-for nails who, with the help of her transsexual friends, sings her way into a Park Avenue apartment and fucks her way into a better wardrobe, only to lose the one thing she loved the most, thereby becoming an inspiration to an entire generation of ugly little girls and high-pitched little boys.
Anyway, we open with the above shot, as a successful and fabulously attired Fanny Brice pouts her way through an empty theater, reminiscing.
We know we’re in the past because Barbra’s breasts are bound and she’s wearing ugly clothes and her nails aren’t visible from across the room. She’s back in Immigrantville, listening to her mother and her friends sing about how ugly she is. Barbra doesn’t care. She’s got talent and a dream. And an eating disorder. She laughs off their concerns and runs off to rehearsal, secure in the knowledge that she only has to wear this shit a little longer and then she’ll spend the rest of the film looking stunning.
Other things happen which aren’t interesting because the clothes are ugly although Barbra does get to sing about how she’s the greatest star and damn, if she’s not adorable but then she comes out wearing this, quite possibly the ugliest dress ever made.
Despite that eyesore, she charms the crowd with “I’d Rather Be Blue” and they love her for it, which they have to, otherwise this would be a really depressing movie.
Backstage, before she can get out of the ugliest dress ever made, she meets Nicky Arnstein and totally makes an ass out of herself over him, causing even the ugly little girls in the audience to get annoyed and mutter “Damn girl, have some dignity.”
Later, she meets Anne Francis, who for some reason is dressed up like a cake. They hit it off instantly, even though most of Anne Francis wound up on the cutting room floor. Before Anne was completely edited out, she managed to talk Fanny into a makeover by introducing her to a bunch of her drag queen friends.
Anyway, Barbra and her tranny posse put on a showstopper and she’s the toast of the town. Or at least, of Immigrantville.
In all seriousness, watching Barbra sing “People” is, in fact, like buttah. It’s a trite little song that she interprets beautifully, acting the most Barbra-ey at the moments when her eyes are closed and she’s just singing it.
Anyway, a year goes by, Barbra’s hair gets bigger, her eye makeup thicker, and she and Nicky run into each other again.
Look at that outfit. Only a drag queen would think of an outfit like that. A drag queen named Periwinkle Pussy.
Nicky decides to leave again, but apparently once Barbra got herself a taste of the man meat, she knew she couldn’t let it go.
Barbra then sings her ass off — on trains, in cabs, and on boats.
Seriously, “Don’t Rain on My Parade” is the whole reason to watch the movie. The very definition of a show-stopper and she’s incredible to watch singing it. Then again, we’re pretty sure any woman wearing a mink turban and singing her lungs out would enrapture us.
Blahblahblah. The film comes to a crashing halt once she gets laid on a regular basis. She meets up with Nicky and they have even more sex and then he wins a lot of money and then they get married.
After the baby arrives, we never see it again. Barbra loses about 35 pounds of hair and starts dressing like it’s the twentieth century all of a sudden. We feel like we wandered into a different movie. No one sings and Barbra wears fabulous clothes while looking concerned, mature or as if she’s been crying.
Anyway, it’s all very sad and serious, and Nicky turns out to be nothing but a loser and a fuckup and he drops her like a bad habit. Barbra is heartbroken, but she steps up for ugly little girls everywhere and takes one on the chin.
And then she walks out on stage, blows the house down and inspires an entire generation of drag queens with one song. One note.
But don’t shed a tear for her, poodles. She gets to fuck James Caan in the sequel and he’s much hotter than Omar Sharif.
Whew! That was exhausting! Be here next Monday for Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. Hot asses and Julie Newmar! Fag heaven!