This is a synthesis of some related threads. Markxxx has one about 50’s television. There’ve been topics about what fantasy world (written) you’d choose. But it all got me to thinking…
Woody Allen addressed this in film: stepping back into the actual film. In SF, Connie Willis wrote Remake, about the intersections of human imagination and film and a girl who wants to dance with Astaire.
When drama works, it sucks you in.
Sooo…POOF! You can do it. You can leave this world behind and become a genuine part of–what world?
Star Trek: The Next Generation: for the social utopia that is supposed to have been created.
Happy Days: where nothing really bad ever really happened.
Any manga show cos the big-eyed girls are cute.
Actually if we include the adult channels there are going to be a hell of a lot of guys picking the world where the very cute pizza delivery girl invites herslef in…
hmmmmmmmmm…
Don’t take me too seriously - if you believe in me I may cease to exist
I suddenly find myself behind the wheel of a Dodge Charger. I’m powersliding through the curves as two police cars are chasing me heavily. On the horizon, a river appears. But wait… the bridge has been blown to pieces during the Civil War! D’oh!
Will our heroes make the jump across Shit Creek? Don’t change that dial, folks! We’ll be right baaaaaaack!!
Me, I want to live on Altair IV (out of Forbidden Planet) in Edward Morbius’ house, before he overloaded the generators and blew the whole planet up. All that cool Krel machinery, all the physics and math texts you can eat, and Robby the Robot as a manservant. And I wouldn’t let all that absolute power go to my head.
And poof, our lovable Mullinator finds himself in the realm of the Bugs Bunny/Road Runner show. He is now living in a land where there is no death, only the revampng of the supposedly immutable laws of physics. And, of course, the random anvil.
Really, who wouldn’t want to be able to flick their thumb and have it set on fire, fall off a cliff but be able to walk it off, trade a zinger with an ornery bunny, and shoot an inbred hillbilly in the butt with his own gun?
Plus, I think I could parlay it into a few close encounters with Jessica Rabbit or Judy Jetson.
Swiddles is Katherine Hepburn in A Philadelphia Story. Biting wit, quite wealthy, quirky family, and beating the men off with a stick. Not a bad place to be…
As for me, I am in a 1930s/early '40s screwball comedy. I’m either Claudette Colbert, Ina Claire or Carole Lombard—a daffy society deb just holding down a journalist’s job for a lark.
My mom is dizzy society dowager Alice Brady, my sister snooty Mary Astor. Of course, my zany pals Ukelele Ike and Saxface (played by Cliff Edwards and Una Merkel) pop in from time to time to crack wise.
My boyfriends? Well, of course playboys and Park Avenue layabouts like Gene Raymond, Cary Grant and Fredric March are always clustering to me “like mutts awound a phlegm,” as Marlene Dietrich sang. But I’ll probably fall for rough-and-ready reporter Clark Gable in the end . . .
Some people might say that I married her for the money, but that wasn’t it. Hell, one look at Myrna Loy would tell you that.
For some reason, many people think I’m the Thin Man, but they’ve got it wrong. That was one of my cases. I’m Nick Charles. I’m retired, but I sometimes help out the cops when they’re stuck. Occassionally, Nora (that’s the wife) gets involved, which is never a good thing. And of course Asta (that’s the dog) can be a pain, but he’s been known to help, too.
I sent quite a few mugs up the river in my time, but there’s no hard feelings about that. Fact is, I can count on most of them to give me a hand if I’m on the spot.
Wally, you beat me to it. I want to be Nora Charles wear wonderful clothes and live in a hotel in New York and drink scotch and martinis and have room service breakfast at noon and never get fat or hungover. Then I would go out on the town and meet my husband’s interesting acquaintances and solve mysteries that never require that I leave the nightclub or even miss the floor show.
:Young woman enters room, in obvious state of duress.:
Derleth: Hello, what is the problem?
Woman: My father’s been killed!
Derleth: Oh yes, Lord Highfalutin of West Greertown.
Woman: How did you know?
Derleth: Well, from the black marks on your dress, you come from a region rich in coal mines, and with many blast furnaces. The makeup you wear denotes social standing, but your short fingernails indicate that you do manual labor, but not often. Plus, you wear Essence of Muskrat, but not today [sorry, wrong story]. There is no time for talk now. Mr. Watson, get me my umbrella. The game is afoot!
:they all exit:
I’d have to pick one of the more dangerous worlds, like that of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The series, though, not the movie. It’s only worth it if evil vampires poof into clouds of dust in a neat special effect for you. I hate it when I kill evil things and they just die.
Dangerous worlds are really the only place in television you can ever get any power. Most of the life-changing events in dramas happen by chance and/or misunderstanding, and cartoon worlds are impossible to really die in, unless you are a cat and can do the cute nine ghosts cliche. Whereas, in Buffy, I could get possessed by a demon, rip an unsuspecting extra to shreds, get exorcized, retain a portion of demonic power, dabble in the dark arts, and learn how to turn Christmas hams into caltrops… and that’s just before lunch. Besides, [release of pent-up chauvanism] I’d rather get mortally wounded by Geller than Schwartzenegger. [/release of pent-up chauvanism]
I don’t know if anyone’s thought of this, but a porn world would be the absolute worst place to live. Sure, the novelty qould keep it fresh for a while; you order a pizza and a side order of pizza girl, you make a deposit with the bank teller, you speed just so the female cop pulls you over, etc. However, after a short while, it would get monotonous and extremely exhausting. You would need to do the nasty to do anything, and it would be impossible to escape. If you try to cook your own meal, the kitchen maid you didn’t know you had will come in to help. If you just hold on to your cash, you get a visit from a curly-haired Amway rep. You obey all the laws and the cop shoots out your brake lights so she can pull you over. You couldn’t walk down the street without being pounced; it’s the unwritten law. I don’t care how macho you want to act; a constant bombardment of this kind of life, and any man will be dead in a week. It’s just not worth it, no matter how big your smile will be for the open-casket service.
Animaniacs: immortality/invulnerability with sarcasm. What else is there to say?
Melrose Place world: where you have sex with everyone else eventually.
Days of Ourlives: part of each of the above reasons. Affairs galore and something odd is always happening. Yes youmay be killed but that’s hardly absolute here…
Anthracite is a vampire in the world of Anne Rice, one of the very old ones who is not hurt terribly much by the sun and rarely has to feed. She stays in the world of the mortals whenever possible, frequenting her nightclub in Miami, the casino in Monte Carlo, the estate in Tuscany. The world has not yet exhausted her interest as it has for the others.
Baloo appears clean-shaven, wearing a suit, tie, and a hat. It’s Metropolis in the early 1940s, as portrayed by the Max Fleisher studios. The Golden Age Superman was always a bit too ready to start beating people up, and a little short in the deduction department, and I ain’t talkin’ taxes, see? I also figure he didn’t really need to use the “I’m a pantywaist” (translation: girly man) routine to cover his secret I.D., either.
Besides, Lois Lane was a knockout, and she was smart, if a little short in the better-judgement department. “Oh look, Clark! Someone’s robbing a bank! You call the Planet and stop the presses while I go sneak into that getaway car!”
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