Today is the 21st anniversary of the greatest film of all time. 21 years ago, theaters all over the country were blessed with the presence of Johnny Castle and Frances Baby Houseman. The duo dirty-danced their way into our hearts, redefined the romance movie genre, and made us all want to go to Kellerman’s for the summer.
Perhaps one of the greatest scenes from the film, other than the iconic ending dance sequence, is the scene in which Baby goes to Johnny’s room and seduces him through the art of grinding. After personally watching this scene dozens of times, I have come to the conclusion that this is one of the sexiest scenes in the history of movies–and the two do not even kiss until the very end, leaving audiences to imagine the aftermath of this intense dance.
I stress, yet again, that I was quite young and impressionable when watching this film. In elementary school, I remember befriending another boy in school. I don’t remember his name, but I do recall calling him Johnny. Those were the days. Johnny and I would spend our lunches perfecting this dance, taking breaks to eat tater tots and nachos. Next to the monkey bars and stepping over tanbark, I would raise my arms like Baby and Johnny would . . . Well, we never got to that part. I think I was suspended for illicit behavior. Stupid teachers didn’t understand. Johnny! Come back to me!
Noah Calhoun and Allie Hamilton have found each other once again. After over a year of separation, Noah and Allie were spotted canoodling at a Southern California club where Noah (aka Ryan Gosling) was DJ’ing. For those of you who have not seen The Notebook, what the hell is wrong with you? It’s one of the greatest love stories of all time–second only to Dirty Dancing, which I will write about tomorrow in celebration of its 21st anniversary. The Notebook tells the story of Noah, a country boy with a heart of gold, and Allie, a city girl who had a big ‘ol stick up her ass when she first met Noah. After a carnival, a tender dance in an empty street, a bike ride through the woods, and various excursions on the open water, Noah and Allie became completely enamored of each other. At the time that Noah and Allie first split last year, Noah (aka Gosling) reportedly was accosted by angry women asking Noah to explain how he could let Allie go.
Noah. I’m happy you finally found your way back to Allie. I apologize for all the letters I wrote you, asking you to reconsider the breakup. I’m sorry for calling you an insolent pig. I’m sorry for sending you the tissues carrying my tears at the news of Noah and Allie’s separation. I’m sorry Noah. I wrote you 365 letters. I wrote you every day for a year. And boy, did my hard work pay off. Because your love wasn’t over for me. And it’s still not over!
Some clips of Noah and Allie (aka McGosling)
And yes, for those who know me, that last video does hold a special place in my heart.
We are nearing the 21st anniversary of the opening of the greatest movie of all time. This iconic film ignited the country into a dance frenzy and caused millions of people to engage in grinding . . . long before R. Kelly saw nothing wrong with a little bump and grind. Millions of teenagers and preteens all over the world, with grandiose dreams of the future, wanted to cast their square plans aside to embark on the journey of a lifetime. Yes folks–in 1987, I wanted to be Frances “Baby” Houseman. I wanted to run into Johnny Castle, carry a watermelon, and wear a white shirt in a lake while learning the lift. I wanted to dance on a log, spin my foot around, and say, “Whoooo!” when Johnny nearly falls. And most of all, I yearned for Johnny to come to me and say, “Nobody puts Baby in a corner.” For years, I forced my family to refer to me as “Baby” and relegated myself to the corner seat of every restaurant, often sitting alone and staring at the entrance in joyful anticipation. I tossed my hair from side to side and dirty danced with my 8 year-old image in the mirror. I went to the steps at Lake Elizabeth and danced up and down, perfecting the sexy back-bend move Baby did so well, while avoiding the ducks and geese who were prying me for food. I successfully pushed for our Senior Ball theme to be “(I’ve Had) The Time of My Life.” Therefore, in anticipation of August 21, 2008, please join me in celebrating the greatest film of all time and the greatest scene of all time.
This weekend, I watched “Forgetting Sarah Marshall,” a movie starring (and written by) Jason Segal. Segal reigns from How I Met Your Mother, perhaps the only good sit-com on television today.
Segal stars as Peter Bretter, a musician who composes music for his girlfriend’s crappy television show. Herein comes the spoiler. Within the first 10 minutes of the movie, one sees multiple snapshots of Jason Segal’s junk. Yes, male frontal nudity.
With that, I delve into a question many women (and men) have asked about popular culture. Why not more penis? Historically, women have been the subject to nudity in film and television. Where decades ago, female nudity would have been reserved for pornography or other “obscene” forms of entertainment, female nudity has now burst into the mainstream, entering mass-appeal genres such as the comedy and the action film. In other words, folks, boobs are everywhere. Boobies are no longer limited to your daddy’s Playboy magazines but can now be found in your kids’ Sponge Bob lunch boxes (speaking of which – what’s up with Miley Cyrus baring all???). But why not more penis? It seems, from an equity standpoint, that more penis would be warranted at this stage–simply as a natural progression of entertainment. By showing his penis on the big screen (heehee–I wrote big and penis–heehee), is Segal really attempting to equalize the portrayal of the sexes in mass media? Perhaps Segal is attempting, in a compelling and courageous manner, to eradicate the objectification of women by subjecting himself to the same inequities and humiliation that all women face?
Nah. Go watch the film. Segal just wanted to flash his goods. There ain’t no shame in his game.