A “girls’ film”: this is the resolutely pejorative image that I, born a boy in the 1980s, have long had of Dirty Dancing. My sexism being matched only by my snobbery, it finally took me almost three decades before agreeing to devote a hundred minutes to this film, ordered – by a “girl”, precisely – to fill this gaping hole in my cinephilia. Not really enthusiastic about the idea of this viewing, I admit to having watched the film backwards, which helps to explain why I took little pleasure in it.
It took me years and a few articles read here and there in the feminist press to reconsider this film released in 1987, directed by Emile Ardolino (Oscar winner in 1984 for the documentary He Makes Me Feel Like Dancing and future director of the triumphal Sister Act in 1992), written by Eleanor Bergstein and performed by the duo Jennifer Gray – Patrick Swayze. Thanks to a second session and thanks to some analysis keys, I was finally able to appreciate its qualities.
IVG, slutshaming and patriarchy
Andrea Warner didn’t wait until she was in her thirties to consider Dirty Dancing like an important film. The Canadian author and podcaster has a special memory of her first time watching the film, during her pre-adolescence. She was then torn between sincere emotion and an undeniable form of excitement felt in front of the moving bodies. This is the first subject she addresses in her essay entitled We don’t leave Baby in a corner: the way in which cinema shapes our imaginations, our desires and our representations – not just for the duration of a session, but for a lifetime.
Published by Hors d’Atteinte editions and translated from English by the editor Marie Hermann, We don’t leave Baby in a corner fiercely defends the thesis according to which Dirty Dancingif not a perfect film, is an important film, which had (and still has) what it takes to revolutionize the existence of a lot of teenage girls – and no doubt some teenagers too.
In the introduction, Andrea Warner does not hide her emotional and personal involvement with this work: “Whatever anyone says, Dirty Dancing is the film that changed my life. He was the one who helped shape my budding feminism, who made me a lifelong activist for abortion rights, and who introduced me to the power of music. Him I watched over and over and over again, with strangers, younger family members, dear friends, on the big and small screens, in movie theaters, on dorm TVs, iPhones, and on the backs of airplane seats.”
Books on cinema should more often look like this: while taking care to explain the resonance between Dirty Dancing and her own life – relationship to the body, to the father, to patriarchy –, the writer also offers a broad and enlightened vision of what the film, although taking place in 1963, has to say on subjects as important and current as abortion or consent. Connecting the intimate to the political with such ease is far from easy.
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For the record, Dirty Dancing recounts the summer meeting between Bébé (Jennifer Grey), 17 years old, daughter of a New York doctor, and Johnny (Patrick Swayze), employee of the pension where her family spends their vacations – but also an excellent dancer. Penny, Johnny’s dance partner and childhood friend, must undergo a clandestine abortion after having sex with Robbie, another employee, who does not feel responsible for a second. Baby then tries to help Penny, who cannot afford such an intervention. At the same time, she takes intensive dance lessons from Johnny in order to be able to replace her new friend at a gala which will take place on the day of the abortion.
Depth and critical thinking
This very partial summary is enough to show that Dirty Dancing is not a simple dance film – which, in itself, would not be dishonorable – and that it deserves to be looked at in more detail. This is what attracted the editor and translator Marie Hermann, who says she discovered the book in Frankfurt, during the largest literary fair on the planet: “Like a lot of fans of Dirty DancingI always vaguely felt that it represented much more than a banal romantic comedy, without necessarily being able to grasp the full extent of this “much more”. I have had many conversations about this and have found that these reasons are many and varied. But this book analyzes them in depth.”
The book actually stands out for its depth, but also for its critical spirit: “I was immediately seduced and convinced by the point of view of Andrea Warner, who embraces her side as an absolute fan of the film but who also invites the greatest intellectual honesty, particularly with regard to the cultural appropriation in which the film engages with black musicians”continues Marie Hermann. Other sensitive subjects, such as the potentially problematic age gap between Baby and Johnny (older than her by a few years), are also discussed directly.
Andrea Warner takes a close interest in the work of screenwriter Eleanor Bergstein, who carried on her shoulders this project which is more ambitious than it seems. This one “wanted to anchor her film in a certain progressive political idealism to which she felt close due to her own youth”writes Andrea Warner. “She chose the summer of 1963, which represented a decisive cultural turning point for her”continues the essayist, evoking the Cuban missile crisis, the March on Washington for civil rights co-initiated by Martin Luther King and the rise of the second feminist wave.
Eleanor Bergstein’s fine work is highlighted throughout the book. Sorority, male-female friendship, sexual charge, slutshaming: In Dirty Dancingthe many subjects covered are always intelligently addressed. The use of dance, considered as much as a vector of emancipation as a means of expression, is also extremely well seen, as is the choice of Jennifer Gray (pretty but less conforming to beauty standards than Cynthia Rhodes, who plays Penny) as the main female character. The anti-Semitic nature of the comments on the actress’s physique does not escape the author either.
“This film was not taken seriously, including by professionals who helped make it.”
The book is imbued with female gauze of good quality: if Johnny is a formidable character, transcended by a Patrick Swayze then at the top of his art (both in comedy and in dance), and if Emile Ardolino (disappeared in 1993) does an honorable job behind the camera, Andrea Warner shows without forcing that it is Eleanor Bergstein and the character of Baby (and therefore Jennifer Grey) who Dirty Dancing mainly owes its success and longevity.
If the most hardcore fans of the film will also appreciate the part devoted to the various musical pieces which made the success of its soundtrack (sold 32 million copies according to the writer), this one is a little more expected, but its placement in the middle of the book serves as a refreshing intermission before a biting second half. In particular, we can enjoy Andrea Warner’s view of the sequels and other adaptations of her favorite film.
A VF in the form of an anomaly
This is how the not-really-sequel Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights (2004), with Diego Luna and Romola Garai, was received with honors, while the long ABC TV film released in 2017 (including Abigail Breslin, described as a pure casting error) took a beating. The stage adaptation written by Eleanor Bergstein also received some harsh criticism, the screenwriter being criticized for having highlighted each of the intentions of the original script and for having added subplots that were not really interesting.
Andrea Warner doesn’t mince her words and it’s excellent news: We don’t leave Baby in a corner ideally lets his love tinged with demands for the universe of Dirty Dancingbut also the strength of her feminist convictions. Her refusal of lukewarmness and compromise makes her a convincing analyst and undoubtedly the best defender of this film which has not finished being talked about – the proof: the Arlesian remake mentioned by the author at the end of the book is finally about to be filmed.
The French edition of the book is a real success, which is not only due to its sensational sequined cover. Through thoughtful footnotes, she regularly reminds us of the strange differences – well summarized by the Première magazine website – existing between the original dialogues of the film and those of the French version, which add a dose of absurdity to certain sequences while others lose part of their feminist dimension in the process.
“The VF deeply depoliticizes the original and manages to make sexist lines that were originally feministconcludes Marie Hermann. This is yet another proof of the extent to which this film was not taken seriously, including by professionals who contributed to its development, which the book also shows very well. The screenwriter had to fight to impose her film, precisely because it was not in reality in line with the classic bluette…” All this was well worth a rehabilitation in book form.
