Misunderstood Masterpieces: The Forbidden Dance Is Lambada

Posted by Will Helm on 11.09.2004

…or, Who Knew Dancing Could Save the World . . . Again?

The Twist. The Limbo. The Hustle. The Cabbage Patch. The (gulp) Macarena. What do all of these things have in common? If you said they’re dance fads, you’re exactly right. If you said “Gee whiz, hon, Britney Spears is white trash” . . . well, you’re still right; you’re just not paying attention.

Yes, friends, the dance fad has a long and sordid history in popular culture. It may have all started with classical faire such as the waltz and the quadrille, but these dance fads would grow wilder and wilder with each passing decade. Nowadays, what wedding reception wouldn’t be complete without the Electric Slide, the Chicken Dance, or a fistfight? I thought so. Anyway, back in 1990, there was a dance fad so ubiquitous, yet controversial, that Hollywood birthed not one BUT TWO films based on its popularity. That dance: the Lambada. Of course, the origins of the Lambada are shrouded in mystery (i.e. I don’t feel like looking it up), but all I can tell you is that its as close to fully-clothed coitus as is allowed by law. Yes, some may have condemned its overt salaciousness, but the Lambada was a force to be reckoned with . . . until the films based on its popularity came out.

I can’t really say which film came out first . . . mainly because they both premiered on the same day! On March 17, 1990, both Lambada and The Forbidden Dance were loosed upon theaters; I guess whichever one opened in the Far Eastern tip of Maine premiered first. Anyway, much like the namesake dance, these two films were not without their own controversy. You see, as the rival productions were being filmed, the makers of Lambada slapped a lawsuit on the makers of The Forbidden Dance prohibiting them from using the word “Lambada” in the title of the film. Confused yet? It gets better. This went through, even though the makers of The Forbidden Dance retained exclusive rights to the song “Lambada,” on which the dance is based. So, in essence, the film titled Lambada didn’t have the song “Lambada,” but the film with the song “Lambada” couldn’t use the word “Lambada.” Now you see why I love Hollywood sometimes. And to think I almost went into entertainment law. Anyway, both films came and went just as quickly as the dance fad they were based on; because of this, in later years, The Forbidden Dance would develop a bit of an identity crisis. You see, since then, The Forbidden Dance came to be known as Lambada: The Forbidden Dance and, currently, The Forbidden Dance Is Lambada. Why? Pretty much because no one cares at this point who uses the word “Lambada.” Just what is the cause of this fall from ubiquity to obscurity? Let’s find out!

Somewhere in Brazil, lame white people are ruining the rainforest, so the natives are restless. These aren’t just any natives, though; they’re modestly clothed Hollywood natives. Oh, and one of them just happens to be a HOT CHICK (Laura Elena Harring) and another just happens to be Sid Haig. No, really. Although I don’t know if the world was ready for Captain Spaulding in a loincloth in 1990 . . . or at any time for that matter. As for the HOT CHICK native, you might remember her from the David Lynch flick Mullholland Drive or The Punisher, but she looks quite different today than she did back then. Unfortunately, I can’t put my finger on why . . . maybe if I get some ice cream, it’ll help me figure it out. Anyway, this ice cream’s good, but it’s dripping all over the keyboard . . . silly cone.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the worst joke I’ve ever written.

Then again, how is it different than any other joke I’ve written?

Anyway, back in the rainforest, while Sid Haig does tribal things, the HOT CHICK native – who’s got some see-through lingerie action going on – and a bunch of guys wearing tumbleweeds dance together. I guess this is some sort of coming-of-age ritual/proto-Lambada. The nubile HOT CHICK native dances REALLY close to one of her fellow tribesmen . . . until Sid Haig yells and the HOT CHICK native bites into an apple.

Sadly, the austere – and vaguely erotic – scene is broken up by the encroachment of technology, as a bunch of trucks drive in loaded to the brim with armed thugs. Leading the pack of armed thugs is a creepy developer guy (Richard Lynch) who orders the entire tribe out of the village and onto the trucks. Conveniently, for no reason in particular other than to further the plot, the HOT CHICK native just happens to know English and serves as a translator. Ah, there’s nothing like a petty contrivance to help the film along. Instead of going on the trucks to wherever, the tribe retreats to the river; the trucks, on their way out of the village, run over a little tree. The HOT CHICK, just to show her acting range, starts crying. That fake Native American guy from those ‘70s environmental commercials would be proud.

Somewhere in the U.S., the HOT CHICK and Sid Haig – who must’ve had some good money lying around for the flight out of Brazil – visit the evil developer’s headquarters. Once there, Sid Haig starts doing stereotypically goofy shamanistic stuff in the lobby, freaking out the rent-a-cops. Meanwhile, another rent-a-cop patronizes the HOT CHICK, since she’s young, attractive, and a foreigner. It’s just something Americans do, you know. Moments later, the HOT CHICK serendipitously runs into the evil developer guy while Sid Haig mystically throws fire around the building’s lobby. Unsurprisingly, Sid Haig is arrested for his impromptu Tim the Enchanter impression. That serves the fireball-flinger right.

The next day, some Latina domestic (Àngela Moya) finds the HOT CHICK sleeping by a fountain. The maid takes pity on the wayward HOT CHICK, wakes her up, and helps her get a job . . . in the span of about a minute. Say what you will, but this plot is moving like lightning! Perhaps we can wrap this up in about forty-five minutes or so . . . or not. Unfortunately, instead of a high-paying job with good benefits, the HOT CHICK is forced to take a position as maid for a pair of snooty, elitist suburban WASPs who just happen to have a good-looking ne’er-do-well son. More on that later. Meanwhile, Sid Haig sits in jail. That evening, the HOT CHICK, instead of doing her work or trying to get her compatriot out of jail, strips to her see-through native nightgown and dances lasciviously around the room, carrying a rosary and wearing no underwear, to music which emanates from an unseen source. Either that, or the song “Lambada” can magically start playing at any time.

Just in case we thought we were voyeurs during this little interlude, we’ve got company in the form of the WASPs’ slacker party-boy son Jason (Jeff James). After watching the HOT CHICK nearly stripping for a few minutes, Jason makes himself known and the HOT CHICK is unsurprisingly bashful . . . even though she had gone through her whole routine with the door halfway open. Unfortunately for Jason, his libido subsides in a hurry, as he gets a call from his spoiled, shrewish girlfriend Ashley (Barbara Brighton); after hanging up on his significant other, Jason says “iguana” for some reason and then brings the HOT CHICK with him to some cheesy dance club. Like I said: plot like lightning! Jason, naively, introduces the HOT CHICK to his white, lame society friends and then they all gather together to dance badly. After the uninspiring number, the DJ conveniently puts in a bit of Latin-flavored music . . . which causes most of the revelers to flee the dance floor. Of course, the HOT CHICK, since she is Latin and all, entreats Jason to stay with her and his reward . . . is THE LAMBADA! For a few moments, Jason and the HOT CHICK have the floor all to themselves, until the gathered throng is so swept up in the simulated copulation that they join in on the fun. Wow . . . it’s like a mock orgy or something.

After the big number, the HOT CHICK endears herself to the white majority and explains the turmoil going on in her homeland. All this social activism is well and good . . . until Jason’s snotty girlfriend Ashley shows up. Ashley, quite perturbed by Jason’s seeming affection for a minority, freaks out as only a spoiled WASP can; Jason, upset with Ashley’s conniption and with the HOT CHICK in tow, exits, stage left. Ashley, not content to be second to someone culturally beneath her, rips the HOT CHICK’s dress . . . which just happens to be Jason’s mother’s! Back at Jason’s house, his parents are awake and waiting for Jason, since it seems that they want to have a little chat with him. Conveniently, their wait isn’t long, as he pulls up nary a moment later in his rickety Porsche. Once Jason and the HOT CHICK are inside, Jason’s mother is overcome by a fit of apoplexy as she rants about the possibility of the HOT CHICK sweating in her dress. Umm . . . can you say “over-reaction”? I knew you could. Meanwhile, Jason’s parents are fed up with their son’s shiftlessness and lecture him accordingly. Jason, of course, JUST WANTS TO DANCE! Oh boy. Wow. At this point, they should be thankful he brought the HOT CHICK with him to the club; unfortunately, they aren’t, as they scold him for both dating the help and possibly considering making little illegitimate Latin babies.

The HOT CHICK, quite insulted by the WASPs’ vitriolic, racist diatribe, leaves the house and walks the seedy streets of Los Angeles . . . wait, this was Los Angeles all along? Wow. And here I thought we were still in Wichita. Anyway, the HOT CHICK walks the seedy streets of Los Angeles, which are filled with poseur punks, bull-dyke lesbians, and some guy that looks like Tim Curry. The HOT CHICK, not content to be involved with an ersatz Frank-N-Furter, goes into a seeming S&M club – replete with skanky girls dancing badly – looking for employment. Luckily for her, fake Booker T, the manager on duty, points her in the direction of Mickey (Miranda Garrison, last seen in Dirty Dancing), the helpful creepy slutty dance teacher. Mickey, who isn’t quite so fine, takes the HOT CHICK to the club’s red light district, where some sleazy overweight guy sans shirt tries to hit on her. Luckily for the HOT CHICK, Mickey pulls a switchblade on him, dissuading him from any further advances. After he exits, Mickey throws a red dress at the HOT CHICK and then teases a hint of lesbianism. The HOT CHICK, unfamiliar with the pleasures of Sapphic love, is unsurprisingly bashful . . . even though she has no problem with dancing around her room in a sheer negligée.

Back at the corporate headquarters, some guy threatens the evil developer guy. Wait a minute? Is that supposed to make us feel sorry for the evil developer guy or something? I bet it’s the set up for a dangling plotline which would lead to the great unmade sequel Lambada Versus the World Crime League. It’s just a hunch, though. Anyway, back in the seedier side of Los Angeles – because there’s no such thing as a “not seedy side,” Jason’s goofy friends – who look remarkably like the boyz from Troll 2 – go to the S&M club looking for a good time . . . and the HOT CHICK. Inside, the HOT CHICK dances with sad, pathetic businessmen while Jason’s goofy friends look on. Jason’s friends pay Booker T the cover charge and then ogle the HOT CHICK while she fights off the advances of one of the businessmen. Jason’s main Aryan friend forcibly ejects the sad middle manager and gets a little rough with the HOT CHICK himself. The HOT CHICK, not content to be raped by a Nazi paradigm right there on the dance floor, looks to the nerdy guy for help, but he just walks out on the scene. The HOT CHICK, therefore seeing no other recourse, knees Jason’s buddy in the junk, leading Mickey and her pet skanks to intervene and let the HOT CHICK off the hook.

Sometime later, at police headquarters, Sid Haig escapes from custody by throwing his voice and impersonating a dinosaur. Joe Friday would not be proud. Meanwhile, at a dance club, Jason sulks; Ashley, perhaps seeing her chance to get back into her boyfriend’s good graces, begs him to dance with her, as they’re supposedly auditioning for a spot on television with Kid Creole. Wow . . . at least Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo had Ice-T. I’d take Ice-T over Kid Creole any day. But adding Sid Haig to the mix does make things much more interesting, however. Anyway, Jason rebuffs Ashley’s advances, so she has a bevy of probably coke-fueled mood swings and then reveals that she knows of the HOT CHICK’s whereabouts. Jason extracts the crucial information from Ashley with the threat of force and then heads over to the S&M club. Once there, Booker T gives him a bit of trouble, but Mickey intercedes when Jason uses the awesome power of American Express to gain entry. I guess it really is everywhere he wants to be. Or was that Visa? It’s too bad it’s not MasterCard; I would’ve loved to use the line “Finding the HOT CHICK Latina maid you’ve been lusting after working in an S&M club: priceless.” I guess I’ll just have to put that one back in the hopper for later use. Anyway, Jason, his credit at the club now good, dances with the HOT CHICK, who reveals, through conversation, that she is being held in the club against her will and under threat of deportation. Jason is sympathetic, but the HOT CHICK refuses his help, since she’s now an angry, resentful hooker. You see . . . and I would’ve thought she’d be a hooker with a heart of gold. Go figure.

Jason, naïve prettyboy that he is, attempts to extricate her from the club, but Booker T and Mickey have a problem with that course of action. In fact, they have such a problem with that plan that Booker T pummels Jason unmercifully while Mickey holds the HOT CHICK at bay. Just when things are at their darkest, however, comes none other than Sid Haig to the rescue! How he knew where to find the HOT CHICK is beyond me, but who am I to question the awesomeness that is Sid Haig? Sid quickly uses his native powers to freak out Booker T and Mickey, incapacitating them; he then uses his talents to wake up Jason with a stick. No really. Once the scene is settled, the HOT CHICK reveals her true identity; she’s actually not just a HOT CHICK, but also an Amazonian princess named Nisa, sent to America to save the rainforests from the evil developer guy’s interloping. Jason, overcome by the awesome power of exposition, recounts those IMPORTANT PLOT POINTS in laymen’s terms, I suppose for the uneducated sitting in the audience. For some reason, just outside the door to the S&M club stands Ashley, who heard the whole thing and then freaks out. OK . . . is it just me, or is she seeming more and more like a stalker with every minute? Oh, and it’s such a shock that, after Nisa’s startling revelation, Ashley vows REVENGE!

Back at the WASPs’ not-so-humble abode, Jason explains Nisa’s situation to his father, but his mother, playing devil’s advocate, freaks out, leading Jason’s father to threaten disownment for some reason. I’ve got to say one thing: WASP justice is most severe. It’s a good thing they don’t decide to drop a rock on Nisa as punishment for seducing their son. Jason, unfazed by his father’s empty threats, walks out on the family anyway and he, Nisa, and Sid Haig all move in with the Latin maid from earlier in the picture. Why is the Latin maid so generous? Well, because she’s totally crushing on Sid Haig, that’s why. Jason retires to his bedroom; Nisa follows to say “goodnight.” Ah . . . so that’s what they call it in rural Brazil. I’ll have to remember that. In Jason’s room, Nisa finds him already in his underwear; since half the work is already done, they start dancing together. I guess they’re rehearsing for later. Just a hunch. Back in the living room, Sid Haig plays air bongos on the coffee table while the maid starts dancing for no particular reason. During her rhythmic demonstration, the maid surreptitiously slips a condom underneath Jason’s door and then she and Sid start dancing in the living room. Back in Jason’s room, he and Nisa GET IT ON! Ah, I guess this is the stereotypical virgin sacrifice. The next day, Jason, basking in the afterglow of a deflowering well done, counts out enough money to get Sid Haig a plane ticket back to Brazil. Oddly, the maid contributes a few dollars as well; I guess Amazonian shaman sex isn’t as good as you would think.

Sometime later, Jason and Nisa go back to the club to rehearse their dance routine while the janitors look on, amused. Meanwhile, Ashley the stalker meets with the developer guy – who her father conveniently works with – and confesses that she’s “all daddy” on the inside while the converse over the span of a few days. Umm . . . I’m sorry, but that “all daddy” remark is just too creepy for words. Then again, Ashley the stalker is too creepy for words, so I guess it evens out. Back at the club, Jason and Nisa mess with the space-time continuum while mimicking Dirty Dancing with their routine. Gee . . . I wonder if the same choreographer was involved in both pictures? Anyway, during the auditions at the club, Ashley the stalker and some random guy dance together and then bask in the adulation of the crowd, who will clap for anything. Seriously; this is the type of people that would give a standing ovation for a circumcision. Anyway, Jason cordially congratulates Ashley the stalker, but she patronizes him. Jason, perhaps sensing a moment for REVENGE, takes the floor with Nisa by his side . . . and they do THE (titular) FORBIDDEN DANCE! Yes, folks, they do the LAMBADA! How do we know? Well . . . let’s just say there’s a certain song playing AGAIN. The sheep-like crowd, unsurprisingly, goes wild . . . especially the maid, who’s on hand for moral support. The crowd, for no reason whatsoever and possibly messing up the audition altogether, forms a conga line while Ashley the stalker freaks out. At the end of the festivities, some chick in a goofy hat announces that Jason and Nisa are the winners . . . like we didn’t see that coming. Everyone in the club congratulates them, including Jason’s dorky friends; the Aryan friend is so caught up in the moment, in fact, that he spontaneously apologizes for trying to rape Nisa earlier. Eh . . . whatever.

After the rejoicing subsides, Jason and Nisa retire to the outside, where the valet – perhaps jealous at their success – hits Jason over the head with a champagne bottle . . . which Jason just happened to hand to the valet a moment earlier. Well, isn’t that just so convenient? Then again, it’s a good thing Jason didn’t hand him a steak knife or a chainsaw. That would’ve brought an end to the movie quite quickly. The valet drives off with Nisa, leaving Jason to follow the evil developer guy around the next day. The evil developer guy, for no reason in particular, drives to an abandoned theater and, once there, gives a gloating villain speech – as well as some helpful real-estate advice – to a tied-up Nisa. Actually, I have to admit that it’s not much of a gloating villain speech at all; it’s more just incoherent rambling about fixing up the old theater. Perhaps the evil developer guy is overcome with sentiment in the scene; how touching. Meanwhile, in another part of the theater, Jason melodramatically breaks a window in slow-motion. Back in the theater’s inner sanctum, the evil developer guy orders Nisa to be his private dancer, a dancer for money, doing what he wants her to do. Tina Turner would be proud. Of course, the evil developer guy’s request wouldn’t be complete without some psychological torture, as he conveniently brings out the red dress Nisa wore at the S&M club. Oooh . . . snap! The underhanded move angers Nisa, who responds with a quite resentful dance. You know, she’s not going to get a good tip if she doesn’t put more emotion into it. Even a moan or an “oh baby” would surely suffice . . . not that I would know.

Elsewhere in the theater, Jason anticlimactically knocks out the evil valet . . . who seems, in the scene, to forget whether he should be unconscious or not. I can’t say I blame him for his apprehensiveness; I’d be unsure whether or not a dancing partyboy could knock me out too. Back onstage in the theater, the evil developer guy, caught up in the heat of the uninspired Lambada, joins Nisa onstage . . . and they dance together. Note to evil developer guys everywhere: never ever ever dance. There’s a fine line between “evil developer guy” and “pathetic developer guy,” and that’s just how you cross it. Jason, unaffected by the now-pathetic developer guy’s terrible dancing, rescues Nisa from the stage and then tragically, melodramatically falls off the side of the building, breaking his ankle! Oh no . . . manufactured drama! Jason, luckily, gets away with Nisa, still able to work the pedals on his rickety Porsche with no problem.

Over at the club, Kid Creole performs while the audience simultaneously wonders to themselves “Who?” It doesn’t help, of course, that he channels Ashlee Simpson and lip synchs badly to his own song. Meanwhile, Jason and Nisa arrive at the club, but the headstrong director lady dissuades Jason from dancing on his badly injured ankle. Meanwhile, onstage, some chick from Columbia Records – who may have had something to do with the soundtrack . . . again, just a hunch – sings some uninspired song titled “It’s a Horror.” Well, one thing’s for certain: she’s got that exactly right. Now, when things are at their worst and looking grim for our heroes, who should show up to the rescue? Well, not just Sid Haig this time, but Nisa’s royal family as well! Umm . . . just how do they have all this money for plane fare anyway? Methinks that their part of the jungle is teeming with plants of the coca variety. After all, isn’t Nisa just Amazonian for “Brazilian snow”? Anyway, Sid Haig, screwing around yet more, does a little medicine with a snake, miraculously healing Jason’s ailing ankle! Afterwards, everyone – and I do mean EVERYONE – gets changed in warp speed just in time for the rousing finale! Jason and Nisa dance together on the floor and then everyone spontaneously starts dancing with them again. Even Jason’s friends get in on the act, dancing with Kid Creole’s scantly clad backup singers. No word on if the Aryan tried to rape one of them, though.

After the performance, Kid Creole interviews Jason and Nisa. Nisa, instead of celebrating with a few shout outs to her homies back in the ‘hood, brings out her father and totally ruins the entire moment by bumming everyone out with her trite environmental message. You know, because I’m totally going to believe some chick that just got done feigning intercourse on the dance floor when it comes to depletion of the rainforest. Kid Creole, swept up in the moment and impressed by Nisa’s royal assets, organizes a boycott against the pathetic developer guy’s company . . . and there is much rejoicing! You know why? Because this movie is dedicated – yes, I said dedicated – to the rainforests. It’s too bad no one went to see it, though.

OK . . . I hate to say it, but this movie seems awfully familiar. I mean, REALLY familiar. Just let me think about it for a moment. Oh . . . yeah . . . it’s the same damn movie as Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo! Seriously! You really just have to switch up a few things, but it’s all there. Nisa, of course, is equivalent to Ozone, the lovable, honorable minority, and Jason is this film’s Kelly, the WASP-y but understanding hero. Sadly, Sid Haig is unfortunately saddled with the Turbo position, but, oddly enough, that would mean that the Latina maid and the cooing Latina HOT CHICK correspond to each other. Freaky, isn’t it? There’s a pointless minor (at the time) celebrity cameo in Kid Creole and Ice-T, two evil developer guys, and you just have to switch the rec center with the rainforest and you’re in like Flint. While the similarities are endless, I’d still take breakdancing over the Lambada any day . . . and I bet most of you would too.

Join me next week as I finish up this trio of films and hope that it’s not the same damned plot I’ve seen twice already! See you then!