Hitting Some Skins

One morning after a hard night of drinking, the wife and I had the misfortune of being sucked into Drumline on the digital cable. The film is about a band director who recruits an inner-city drummer from the mean streets of Harlem to play skins at a fabricated, big name southern university called U of the South or Big South University or something. After spending half of the movie being “benched” (does anyone know the proper term for being pulled from the starting lineup of a marching band?) for a poor attitude, our protagonist Devon helps Big Southern University of the South win the coveted national band championship during the climatic drum-off. I longed for the movie to end with senseless violence; like Devon’s boys from Harlem clashing with a local street gang in the stadium and a gun battle ensues whereby Old Big University of the South‘s band is wiped out in the crossfire and Devon sits on the field clutching his bloody entrails falling from a mortal wound in his stomach screaming “WHY? WHY?” Alas, the film did not even end with a good old fashioned rumble and everybody lived.

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  1. Didn’t I see this musical, once? The Jets and the Sharks, New York’s seedier sections of town…??? No? This is made for screen…not real life. Please, people, stop taking yourselves so un-seriously.

  2. Preemptive strike: Yes, I was/am a loser.

    I was in marching/symphonic band back in the day (trumpet, bitches). We all continued a legacy of superior performances in–yes, they exist–marching and symphonic band competitions.

    From that angle alone, I love that movie.

    Um… yay hockey!

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