http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kitsch
(Although, in the spirit of many courageous "Fanilows" out there, I must admit I did and do respond to the wedding dancing energy of the title song. Having grown up admiring the athleticism of Gene Kelly or Donald O'Connor on the old Bill Kennedy movie afternoons I love musicals, particularly those that feature dance. That's a little, as the girls say, "awko-taco"[sp?], a brilliant phrase that seems to refer to any awkward conversation or situation)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p3YWWfnWBJM
But, the film's premise -- that bans on dancing needed a "fight for freedom" film devoted to just that struggle -- was absurd in 1984 and even more absurd in 2011/12 and after the initial belly laugh I didn't give the remake a single thought.
When, however, you have an 11 year old daughter about to turn 12 seemingly goofy bits of pop culture have a way of entering in to your life in ways you wouldn't expect. So I found myself sitting down recently to watch Footloose redux.
Twice. Indeed, the second viewing preempted a good NCAA bball tournament game (Florida v. Louisville)!
I liked the film both times and, again, in the spirit of Fanilowism, I admit I even got a bit teary. The reason, as NYTimes film critic A.O. Scott put it, is the director handles the absurd premise with "sensitivity and conviction."
That is to say, the director decided not to spend too much time on the "right" to dance -- trying to make sense of this "right" either socially or psychologically -- but instead concentrates seriously on themes buried in the original: most specifically, the need for adults to enforce rules and the equally strong need for children or teens to try to break them -- to grow up and live.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1mzpuUzLKx4
In most films that traffic in the relationship between teens and adults we are asked to sympathize with one side or the other. The adult is either crazily oppressive (like the John Lithgow campy father figure in the first Footloose) or the teen is either provocatively and stupidly rebellious (the young girl who fascinates Kevin Spacey in American Beauty comes to mind). Many films seem to suggest that a parent only has two choices: either become a friend or a foe and ignore the basic fact that a good parent is neither.
Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet is, of course, the locus classicus here.
The second Footloose has a more grown up, pragmatic, and post-tragedy look at this divide. Quite simply, the film makes clear that each side has a job to do -- one has to parent, and one has to try to grow beyond the parenting. It is a mistake to demonize or overly celebrate one side or the other in the necessary conflicts and even traumas that arise.
Readers won't be surprised to hear that I identified most distinctly with the overly protective father in the film (when did that happen!! I'm the old guy!! the one who is at his best only when he lets his wife check his own excesses). Dennis Quaid gives a rich performance as the preacher who enforces the rules against dancing but finds himself, literally and figuratively, hurting his own daughter in an attempt to protect her. The break through moment in the film (that is when the original catchy title song starts pumping through in the background) is when Quaid checks himself and, to a certain extent, repents. He does so not by giving up on enforcing the rules -- the ban on dancing he initiates stays intact, a fact subtly handled. He does so, simply, by hoping and praying. Ultimately I can't control what you do he says to his young congregation, but I hope you have listened.
And I pray you will be smart and safe. Moreover, the preacher Quaid says please pray with me, reminding his audience and congregation that a prayer is neither a completely solipsistic act -- that is, just for an individual -- nor completely a communal act that violently collapses the difference between me and you (usually with me having the say). Rather, a prayer is a call for something else entirely.
In fact, one reason the remake is so much better than the first is a respectful -- rather than antagonistic -- posture towards religion. In the original Lithgow's preacher is simply and evangelical Christian kook, almost a stupid parody of Hollywood's hostility to the church. In this remake, however, Quaid is thoughtful, sympathetic, reasoned. His prayer towards the end of movie sets off a celebratory dance; it isn't mocked. Rather remarkably, too, the director takes care to set Quaid in an Abrahamic (Abram, Abraham, Ibrahim), rather than specifically Christian context. Here is what I mean: Quaid is surely a Christian preacher (we see the church. although the interior is distinctly less Christian than the exterior!). But there are distinctly no references to Christ in the film. There are no references, in other words, that might inadvertently divide the religious from the religious. When Quaid prays it is an open prayer, one acceptable to many faiths. The critical scripture cited comes not from the "New" testament but from Psalms and Samuel. Curiously, the only new testament references are to St. Paul when Quaid is rehearsing a sermon, a rehearsal respectfully interrupted by "Ren" (Kenny Wormald who I am told is "very cute").
True religion, the film suggests, is an embrace of others and of life -- not a rejection. It is an embrace of spirit -- and body.
Warning: the film does flirt with the "INAPPROPRIATE" (perhaps the most useful word in the parenting lexicon) but it does pull the curtain at appropriate points. On these things I sympathize with the filmmakers. 11 and 12 year olds aren't particularly interested in seeing 11 and 12 year olds in films. They want to see what happens next. They want to see 17 and 18 year olds. Collectively speaking, we know what is coming and that can make you teary -- both sad tears and happy tears.
And the film doesn't have particularly nice to things about guys who race cars. That could have been corrected.
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