Misunderstood Masterpieces: Dirty Dancing

Posted by Will Helm on 03.03.2004

…or, (2nd) Best. Line. Ever.

Just a few short weeks ago we studied the awful tendency for Hollywood to create terrible sequels to much beloved films. Nowadays, it goes further than that. Nearly any film that has even a modicum of pull at the box office becomes fodder for a sequel. How else do you explain a film like Final Destination 2? Wasn’t the last film their final destination? How many destinations to they plan to have? Why do I have Jerry Seinfeld’s voice in my brain right now? Nothing, however, equals the sheer unbelievability of The Never-Ending Story 2 . . . honestly, people, for there to be a sequel, the first film would have had to have ended. That right there is blatant and outright false advertising. I’d say it’s grounds for a class-action lawsuit but, then again, I always hated The Never-Ending Story, so that might explain my indignance.

Cluttering up the silver screen as we speak is another ill-conceived sequel, borne out of Hollywood’s recent inherent lack of originality. It is a tale of love and – um – dancing, set against the backdrop of pre-Castro regime Cuba. Yes, my friends and dear readers, I’m talking about Welcome to Mooseport. No . . . wait. I meant Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights. Of course, while there are sequels made of less-than-successful movies, the original Dirty Dancing, released in 1987, was a massive success at the box office; it is such a beloved and, to some, revered film that seventeen years were needed just so that people would feel comfortable with the concept of a sequel. Of course, should they be as comfortable with the original as they are? Through my thorough investigation, I have uncovered some very sinister things lying just under the surface of the original Dirty Dancing . . . things which may change the way this film is viewed FOREVER! Join me as I pull the veil off of this very very dark work of musical romance; be warned, however, the experience may change you as it has me.

It’s 1963 – or ’62, I don’t quite remember – and one of the best pop songs ever written plays over the opening credits: “Be My Baby” from The Ronettes. One thing I’ve always loved about this song: it’s asexual. Back in the old days when I was a wannabe musician, this was one of my favorite songs to play because you could easily sing it about a man (as The Ronettes did) or a woman (as I did). Plus, this was back when Phil Spector was a great (but insane) record producer rather than an infamous (but insane) murder suspect. Ah, those were the days. Of course, the greatness of the song distracts from the fact that the opening is just black and white shots of slow-motion dancing and the ‘80s cursive font, most seen in cigarette ads of the time period. Not even two minutes in and already it’s a bit disconcerting.

Somewhere on the road in upstate New York, legendary disc jockey “Cousin Brucie” introduces The Four Seasons while our protagonist, “Baby” Houseman (Jennifer Grey), gives us a helpful monologue to set the scene. President Kennedy’s still alive, she’s going to go into the Peace Corps, she’s just a naïve seventeen-year-old out for her last family vacation before college. Oh, and she’s a daddy’s girl as well. Of course, when you realize her dad is the always rock-solid Jerry Orbach, as Jake Houseman (although I don’t remember many occasions when his first name is mentioned), you can’t really blame her. Orbach, in addition to being one of the highest money-winners in Celebrity Jeopardy! history and the star of the critically acclaimed Law and Order (chunk chunk), is a lauded and talented stage actor, well known for his portrayal as lawyer Billy Flynn in the original Broadway production of “Chicago.” The Houseman family: Jake, wife Marjorie (Kelly Bishop), elder sister Lisa (Jane Brucker), and Baby, arrive at some random resort in the Catskills, where the owner and proprietor Max Kellerman (Jack Weston) welcomes them warmly.

All of a sudden, we warp to merengue lessons, featuring an instructor with a thick Noo Yawk accent (Cynthia Rhodes) and loads of talent. Baby is so impressed with the instructor’s talent that she ends up dancing with an old lady. I guess the guys just don’t want to learn ballroom dancing . . . it’s their loss. Later that day, Baby wanders around the grounds aimlessly and she spies Max giving his staff a pep talk (and telling them to make “nice” with the female guests, in a diplomatic way). Johnny Castle (Patrick Swayze), the rebel with a heart of gold (which is the male version of the “hooker with a heart of gold”), arrives fashionably late because he’s too cool for rules, man. Ah . . . “Johnny Castle.” A manly man’s name if ever there was one; I wouldn’t be surprised if the name was made that masculine to take away from the stigma of being “light on one’s feet.” It’s that kind of thing that makes the guys in the audience think to themselves “Gee, with a name like ‘Johnny Castle,’ he just can’t be a queen.” The same thing happens all the time with any form of entertainment considered “manly.” Case in point: Terry Bollea and Randy Poffo. Not terribly threatening or masculine, are they? But, if you refer to them as “Hulk” Hogan and Randy Savage (not just Randy Savage, but “Macho Man” Randy Savage!) respectively, then they sound like they mean business. Of course, one of the manliest and meanest men in the history of football was Dick Butkus, whose name could be seen as an abbreviation for anal sex, so I suppose it goes both ways . . . no pun intended.

Over dinner, Max introduces the Housemans to very-available Yalie waiter Robbie Gould (Max Cantor) while Jake counters by bragging about Baby attending some liberal arts college or another for the fall term. I hope she doesn’t get killed in a kiln explosion! Since the patriarch of the Houseman family refuses Robbie’s qualifications as suitor, Max then brings in his Cornell-attending grandson Neil (Lonny Price) . . . is everyone in this movie Ivy League-educated? And what’s with the constant pimping? It’s almost as if the Kellerman house is one of ill repute – high-class ill repute, mind you, but ill repute nonetheless. Moments later, Baby and Neil dance together and she bores him with her dreams of changing the world and all the usual bored upper-middle-class teenage girl blather; meanwhile, some guy onstage tap dances but the sound doesn’t match the movement of his feet! Oops. Just then, Johnny and Penny, the dance instructor, take the floor to entertain the crowd with an elaborate and pretentious dance number. Neil jealously puts them down all because he’s a playa-hater. After the interlude, Mr. Houseman pimps out Baby to Neil (what’s with all the pimping going on?) so Baby ends up getting sawn in half after which she receives a duck as compensation. No, really.

After dealing with her ducky present, Baby wanders the grounds and finds one of the staff, Billy (Neal Jones), carrying watermelons while generic ‘80s music segues into “Do You Love Me” by The Contours in the background. Now, this is one of the MANY things that irk me about this film: the fact that it unapologetically contains dull ‘80s pop music side-by-side with spectacular ‘60s songs; the saddest part is that it becomes worse later . . . much worse later. Baby and Billy the Watermelon Man go to the staff house where she finds a bunch of sweaty twenty-somethings dancing scandalously, lasciviously, and very exaggeratedly. Of course, just to aid the plot in moving along, mere seconds of witnessing the scene in front of her cause Baby to immediately blossom into womanhood. I bet it’s all a metaphor . . . the dancing, the watermelons, and Baby. One of those obscure antiquated fertility things. Out of nowhere, then, mainly to keep the film moving, Johnny and Penny show up and cut a rug and we learn that Johnny, the rebel with a heart of gold, got his cousin Billy his job at Kellerman’s. We also learn, surprisingly, that Johnny and Penny are simply dance partners and “really good friends.” Hmm . . . perhaps “Johnny Castle” is an alias created to highlight Johnny’s masculinity after all. After the impromptu dance number (#2), Johnny makes the rounds and asks Billy about Baby, who then brags about bringing a watermelon. She then slides up nice and close to Johnny, who teaches her how to loosen her hips . . . on the dance floor. More on that later. One important thing here: this may be the quickest corruption of a main character in the history of film; twenty minutes is probably a new record!

The next day, or some time in the future, the female Housemans try on wigs while Robbie the waiter hits on Lisa. Baby, not content with the entertainment that fake hair can bring, compliments Penny on her dancing skills; Penny is less than enthusiastic . . . actually, she’s more pissed for no particular reason. Later, Johnny dances with some middle-aged slut and Neil gets frustrated because Penny’s on her break. Neil’s got middle-management written all over him, the type of person who thinks he’s more important than he really is. After venting his anger over Penny’s absence, Neil hits on Baby in his own inimitable way: by bragging about his past conquests. Meanwhile, Lisa walks by arguing with Robbie the waiter for no particular reason. OK, then. Then for no reason other than because it will further the plot yet more, Neil and Baby go to the kitchen, where Baby finds Penny cowering in the corner. Baby goes to get Johnny and learns from Billy that Penny has a bun in the oven . . . because nothing says lovin’ like one. Baby, just because no one ever believes the term “really good friends,” assumes that the kid is Johnny’s, but Billie Jean is not his lover and the kid is not his son. You know, back in the day, I always thought that the line was “the chair is not my son.” Don’t ask me why. Johnny, rebel with a heart of gold, comforts Penny while Baby gets involved only to hammer home the point that she’s a naïve world-changing type of girl. Oh, and to find out that the baby is Robbie the waiter’s.

The next day, or somewhere farther in the future, Robbie orders Baby around while pontificating about his own personal caste system and then he offers her some Ayn Rand. Hmm . . . I would expect nothing less of a Yalie. Damned elitists! Baby, egalitarian that she is, rebuffs his proposed societal structure (as well as his nonchalance regarding knocking up Penny) by pouring ice water on him. Ah, so mature. If only every debate could end that way. Baby, little-miss-get-involved, asks her father for $250 while her parents golf. He asks her if it’s for something illegal but doesn’t follow through on his suspicions and relents. Perhaps he nickname shouldn’t be “Baby” but instead “Spoiled Brat.” Back at the staff house, Baby spies yet more risqué dancing and then gives the money to Penny so that she might see a doctor about her issue. Penny, honorable-yet-loose woman that she is, refuses Baby’s offer while Johnny protests overlooking such generosity. The reason for Johnny’s protestations: a pregnant Penny can’t dance (even though she could dance fairly well before she knew she was pregnant – it’s not like all of sudden she became pregnant in the time between the opening dance numbers and now).

Baby, because she’s naïve-yet-helpful, becomes Johnny’s new partner, so Johnny teaches her how to mambo while “Wipeout” by The Surfaris plays in the background. Johnny gives her the old cliché about feeling the music to help her learn; I don’t think you could ever feel the music while you’re dancing in Keds. Later, in a very choreographed “romantic moment” (as if this movie weren’t choreographed enough), Baby feels Johnny’s heart while “Hungry Eyes” by Eric Carmen plays in the background because no song written in the ‘60s could be good enough for a moment like this. Oh, I’d be remiss in not commenting that Carmen is a guy who really went downhill after going solo . . . honestly, which would you rather listen to: “Go All the Way” by The Raspberries or “All By Myself” and “Hungry Eyes” by a solo Eric Carmen? I thought so. It also doesn’t help that his name is reminiscent of a certain South Park character. “Hungry eyes / you must respect my authorit-ay”

Of course, the musical interludes are not for naught as Baby slowly and comically learns the routine in the span of a day or so. Johnny, stud that he is, has the luxury of sitting on a pillow and watching Baby and Penny dance together. It’s too bad this movie wasn’t made now, or a threesome could break out. Although . . . why is Penny dancing? I thought the whole point of teaching Baby to dance was because Penny couldn’t. Eh, plot hole? What’s a plot hole? After Baby starts screwing up while practicing, she and Johnny argue and then they go out in the rain together. He smashes the window of his awesome ’57 Bel Air as yet more ‘80s music plays in the background. I really wish they would stop doing that! Heh . . . more on that later. They drive to a lake, where the sun magically shines, and they dance on a log. Later, she tackles Johnny in a field and then they go swimming and practice lifts while romantic piano music plays, just to let you know that love is blooming. Gee, thanks movie. It’s not like there’s anything disgusting about a seventeen-year-old girl falling for a dance instructor whose probably about ten years her senior. Nothing disgusting at all.

Sometime afterward, Baby whines to Penny and then they help some senile old lady. The night of the big performance, Baby has a nervous fit while Penny has regrets about falling for Robbie’s insincere words of love. Then Penny has a nervous breakdown; it seems she’s just a loose woman in search of a good man. At a hotel that is NOT Kellerman’s (ooh, someone’s going to be in trouble), Johnny and Baby perform for a grumpy, unappreciative audience who look bored out of their wits and repeatedly keep clanking their glasses. The only time the audience shows any reaction whatsoever is when they think the act is over, but it’s only the lead up to the big lift . . . which Baby chickens out on anyway. Thanks for nothing, movie. All that silliness in the lake and it didn’t amount to anything. Johnny, because he’s probably thinking with more than just his brain, reassures Baby while she changes in the back seat of his car. Why do I sense statutory rape in their future?

Back at Kellerman’s, Billy immediately gets Johnny because the doctor messed Penny up. Baby, because she’s Miss Helpful, goes to get her father and Johnny takes responsibility for the matter. Mr. Houseman freaks out after miraculously rescuing Penny and bans Baby from hanging out with the loveable ne’er-do-wells. Of course, the first chance she gets, Baby goes to visit Johnny in his bungalow, where he laments because he couldn’t do anything to help Penny. He’s just such a tortured soul, he is. He’s also really confused as well, because while previously he had ridiculed Baby for being a daddy’s girl, now he says she’s brave because of it. He just wants to get into her pants, that’s all. You know it, I know it, everybody knows it. Meanwhile, Baby confesses that she’s scared because she’s got a thing for Johnny, just so that everyone lays their neuroses right out on the table. Because of her unrequited infatuation, I suppose, Baby makes Johnny dance with her and then she does a maneuver which pretty much looks like she’s sniffing him. No, really. I guess his scent and pheromones are pleasing to Baby because they start making out and get it on. See, I told you this would happen in the last paragraph! Of course, I’ve seen the movie all the way through, so it’s not a surprise to me.

The next day, there are talent show auditions! Neil, because he’s a jerk and nothing but a jerk, recruits Baby for prop duty while Mr. Houseman wants to leave. The rest of the family protests, so he changes his mind rather than have to listen to them bitch and moan in the car on the way home, forcing him to drive off a cliff somewhere in the Adirondacks and bringing this movie to a tragic and horrifying conclusion. Oh, we should be so lucky. Baby goes to visit the miraculously PERFECTLY UNHARMED Penny, who so recently was nearly in shock from blood loss due to what we are to assume was a botched abortion (because the movie really doesn’t say anything about it); Johnny then arrives moments later and Baby becomes awkward, to say the least. You can just see the TENSION on her face . . . alright, not really. Penny, because her near-death experience has made her the moral compass of the film, scolds Johnny for being a player while Baby starts to go schizo. Later, because mentally ill girls are easy, Baby and Johnny do it again, but now she starts to show her true colors and pesters him about his sexual past. Johnny’s reply boils down to the fact that he’s a gigolo, but he’s really looking for love. Aww . . . that’s sweet. Not only is he a rebel with a heart of gold, he’s also a male prostitute with a heart of gold. It’s just like a cross between Midnight Cowboy and Pretty Woman. Johnny, just to show off his sensitive side (or at least fool Baby into thinking he has one), asks Baby what her real name is. How sweet.

Later, we learn that Lisa plans to give it up to Robbie and she gloats because she’s daddy’s little girl now that Baby is a pariah who hangs out with the dregs of society. There’s an awful lot of social Darwinianism at play here . . . or not. Baby, because she has no self-esteem unless she’s on her back and spreading her legs, goes to see Johnny yet again and they dance while she mocks his training methods. Then they lip synch because I guess the director thought that would be cool. Whatever, dude. Neil, creepy little voyeur that his is, catches Johnny and Baby together and then puts down Johnny’s choreographical prowess. Johnny gets indignant at Neil’s power, so Baby tells him to be more courageous . . . and then she cowers when they almost get spotted by her parents. Johnny, wisely, tells her off for being a hypocrite. Hmm . . . that’s a pretty common trait in this movie so far.

Later, after Johnny and Baby’s falling out, she finds him at PERFECTLY UNHARMED Penny’s; then, conveniently, just because this movie needed a little manly action, Robbie shows up there, insults Johnny’s station in life, and Johnny beats him senseless. Ah, that one was for the guys in the audience. Yet later, at the talent show rehearsal, Lisa sings badly while Baby paints a palm tree; moments afterward, Baby watches as some middle-aged slut propositions Johnny. Even though he considers the offer, now that he’s found a good (almost) woman, he refuses her husband’s money. Then Lisa informs Baby that tonight is most definitely the night with Robbie and that he doesn’t even know it. Umm . . . I’m sorry if I don’t get that. Has she been wearing a lead chastity belt or something until now? Does she plan on jumping on him the moment he has an erection, taking him completely by surprise? I mean, with as loose as the Houseman girls really are, it’s a good bet that Robbie probably hit a triple on one of his dates with Lisa, so he’s bound to know that he’s going to get to bury the bone soon. It must be the awesome power of The Fountainhead or something. Of course, just because Robbie’s the real playa of Kellerman’s, Lisa catches him getting some sweet MILF-y lovin’ from the middle-aged chick. Oops. I guess tonight’s NOT the night. Rod Stewart is saddened by the news.

Yet again, Johnny and Baby are in bed together. Well, at least one Houseman is getting lucky. Since Johnny is no longer a rebellious gigolo and now a morally-centered and upright gentleman, he tells Baby about a dream he had involving him and her father. Eew. Just kidding . . . it’s just about how Johnny wants her father to accept him as an equal and not an inferior. Ah, good; more neuroses. The next day, the middle-aged woman catches Baby coming out of Johnny’s bungalow, so she blackmails him by accusing him of stealing her husband’s wallet. Umm . . . wouldn’t it make more sense to blackmail him by using the fact that he’s shtupping an underage girl as fuel? It really doesn’t matter in the long run as Baby, who is the only witness that can corroborate Johnny’s alibi, confesses to her night of sin right in front of her parents! Mr. Hoffman, understandably, has a fit of apoplexy and goes catatonic at the news. Baby, sensing his frustration, calls him on his hypocrisy (see, I told you it was a common thing) and then explains to him her feelings about the love between a father and a daughter in a speech that sounds oddly like she’s coming out of the closet. Hmm . . . now that would be interesting: if Baby were infatuated with Penny rather than Johnny. That would be a different and exciting twist on an old stand-by, to say the least.

It turns out, oddly enough, that some old couple were the thieves, but Johnny gets fired anyway . . . probably because of the whole underage girl thing. It makes sense to me, to be honest. Baby freaks out at the news since now she has no source of penis, but Johnny gives her a pep talk. Johnny, now with 50% more conscience, goes to apologize to Mr. Houseman, but Mr. Houseman rebukes Johnny in a tour de force moment. Orbach’s really stretching the acting chops right there. Baby and Johnny then say their not-so-tearful goodbyes while even more ‘80s music plays. In the aftermath, everyone stares longingly into space and Lisa and Baby bond.

Finally, at the summer-ending talent show, Neil leads the last song while a bunch of ‘80s club kids sulk in the back of the room disdainfully. They’re just waiting for their high priest Johnny to return . . . but they’ll just have to wait. In the meantime, Mr. Houseman congratulates Robbie on going to medical school to which Robbie thanks him for handling the situation with Penny. Mr. Houseman FINALLY has an epiphany and realizes that his life is a sham and all the people around him a superficial and evil. It’s a lot like “King Lear,” except that Baby doesn’t end up married to the King of France who’s invading Kellerman’s for no particular reason. Conveniently for the movie, moments after Mr. Houseman’s episode of satori, Johnny returns because of one reason and one reason only:

NOBODY PUTS BABY IN A CORNER!

I have no idea what the hell this line is supposed to mean from a metaphorical standpoint, if at all, but it’s just so . . . so cool. It’s the kind of line that just gives you the urge that, whenever you see anyone sitting in the corner of a room, you feel like saying “Nobody puts so-and-so in a corner!” Or maybe that’s just me. I’m weird like that. Johnny, now redeemed by the fires of righteousness, rescues Baby from the corner like a mambo Messiah, goes onstage, and testifies to the crowd. Hallelujah! This, of course, leads to the big closing number, as Johnny not only traveled deep into the recesses of his own soul during his sabbatical, but also into the future! And, lo and behold, he brought back a 45 with a “The Time of My Life” from Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes with him! The song gets played, Baby does the big lift, everyone reconciles, and they all live happily ever after.

Sometimes, when doing this column, it’s funny how some films completely change in meaning over time. This is certainly one of those films. While a good portion of the viewers may just see it is a wonderfully superficial romance with lots of dancing and set in the early ‘60s, there’s also a lot of serious and disturbing themes lying underneath that veneer that are merely touched on over the course of the movie. There’s the rampant hypocrisy, Robbie’s and Neil’s overt elitism, Penny’s and Johnny’s amoral nature, the old couple’s thievery, and so on. There are also moments of violence and statutory rape as well, all under the guise of a simple romance. Of course, most telling is the Christ-like nature of Baby herself; she is constantly naïve throughout the film and whoever she becomes involved with is either redeemed or damned. Robbie and Neil are both put down for their unrepentant ways, Penny sees the errors of her actions and turns toward morality, Mr. Houseman has a moment of clarity where he sees the world for what it really is, and Johnny turns his back on his sinful life, all due to Baby’s involvement. Perhaps that’s why we should never put Baby in the corner: it is through her that we are saved . . . or not.

Of course, all this doesn’t take away from the fact that the filmmakers had to shoehorn in a bunch of original songs dragging down what could have been an amazing soundtrack. I don’t mind Bill Medley so much . . . but Eric Carmen? Please people.

Join us next week as I bring you a HOT CHICKS IN TROUBLE double feature and then, after that feature concludes, the unveiling of Misunderstood Masterpieces #50. Remember to send in your nomination . . . voting ends in a week!