This weekend, the missus and I went to see Body Worlds 2 at the Boston Museum of Science. On paper, Body Worlds is an educational and unique display of anatomical structure and comparative physiology. In person, it’s a couple of dozen ex-people — and one very large camel — missing their skins and various other bodily bits, though not always the bits you might wish they were missing.
“If anybody is going to have the big macabre balls to show off oeeled and disassembled human bodies for cash, wouldn’t it have to be a German? Named ‘Gunther’?”
I’m not saying it’s not also educational and unique and interesting. It’s just that it’s a little creepy, too. It’s the sort of thing that was fascinating to visit, once. But I’d hate to be a museum janitor or guard for the few months the exhibit is in town. I think I’d walk the halls softly around the halls, and carry a big cattle prod. With no one else around, I bet you can almost hear the ‘specimens’ whispering:
‘Braaaaaains… moooore braaaaaains…‘
Maybe I’ve just seen too many George Romero movies. I sure as hell hope the janitors haven’t.
The various Body Worlds exhibits are the brainchild of German anatomist Gunther von Hagens. But honestly, how hard was that to guess? If anybody is going to have the big macabre balls to show off oeeled and disassembled human bodies for cash, wouldn’t it have to be a German? Named ‘Gunther’? That’s almost too easy.
Hell, the only way it be more deliciously campy would be if he habitually wore an Indiana Jones hat, or something. Oh. Wait. Who’s writing this stuff, anyway? George Lucas?
To be fair, the exhibit was fascinating. And the Creepshow factor really didn’t set in until later. It’s odd how parading past a few deconstructed and redecorated cadavers can seem ‘normal’ when you file past them with several thousand other people nodding and reading informational placards. Only afterward do you reflect, and contract a case of the retroactive willies. It’s what I imagine visiting a bordello would be like. Or eating haggis. Or shopping at Wal-Mart. Or watching an Owen Wilson movie. You get the idea.
Still, I’m glad we went to see it. Besides the education and entertainment, we also met our museum quotient for the year. We’re done with fine art until ’07. Take that, National Gallery! Suck it sideways, Guggenheim!
I always knew a bunch of skinned corpses would be good for something some day. And they said I’d never learn anything from playing Doom. Pfffft.Permalink | 1 Comment