Friends, there have been dark days at the Vicarage. For the last two years and change, your ever-lovin' Vicar has found himself stuck deep in the Slough of Despond, without the energy or inspiration to so much as lift a quill. Bereft of inspiration, deserted by my Muse, and still heartbroken at the untimely loss of one of the last century's greatest talents, the ink had all but dried up in my disused pen. I found the weird movies I watched drained of their color, their madness impotent to lift my soul from the sprawling shadow Silence that had enveloped it. It was, to put it mildly, a very "down" mood.
But then, when I had all but resigned myself to never preaching the gospel of Mad Movies again, a figure appeared as though in a dream: clad in heeled white boots, a white pleather bikers' jacket and hot pants, a shining headband and a form-fitting rainbow-print tee, this angel descended on a wave of sunshine and 80s South American bubble-gum pop. She sang to me in a language I couldn't understand, but her words drizzled like warm honey of the flavorless Eggo™ of my soul, filling it with a sweetness whose taste I'd nearly forgotten. Taking my gnarled, withered hand in hers, she lifted me up and showed me something that put the joy back into my heart, the spring back in my step, and the starch back in my cassock:
What she showed me was Super Xuxa versus Satan (aka Super Xuxa contra Baixo Astral), a 1988 kids' movie from Brazil with more positivity, puppetry, and family-friendly batshittery than you can shake an inappropriately designed Muppet at. And that, my friends, is quite a lot.
Trust me. I know.