If you don’t what “I carried a watermelon” is from, we can’t be friends.
I was 12 when Dirty Dancing came out, and I saw it in the theater. I had the soundtrack on cassette, and I’m fairly certain I played the tape (yes, the actual physical TAPE) to the point that it broke. It is one of those movies that was an instant classic – in the vein of Ferris Bueller and Goonies – I am not actually comparing Dirty Dancing to to the likes of North by Northwest or Gone with the Wind.
So now, many many MANY years later, there is a Broadway Musical version of Dirty Dancing. OHMAGAWDYAAAAAAS. This is every 1980’s tween girls dream come true (sidebar: there was no such thing as a tween in the late 80’s, but that’s what I was). And since our Scruffy Little City is pretty cool, the show made it’s way to our beloved Tennessee Theatre. And I, of course, made my way to the show with friends in tow.
Now, like I said, this movie is a classic as far as the campy, cheesy, romantic dramatic life-lesson movie it is meant to be. One would expect the musical version is meant to be the same. One does not go to the Dirty Dancing musical and expect it to be the caliber of an Italian Opera. Only no one told some of the audience members this.
We went to the Sunday evening show. We were surrounded by…how shall I put this… people much older than we are (and we’re not exactly spring chickens ourselves). I can’t figure out why they were there, because they didn’t seem to be enjoying themselves or have any appreciation for the show.
Maybe they didn’t realize what Dirty Dancing was? I’m guessing they don’t flip through the TV channels and sit down mesmerized every time they come across an airing of Dirty Dancing? I’m guessing they don’t know the script word for word. I’m guessing they didn’t mourn Jennifer Grey’s botched nose job and they certainly didn’t mourn Patrick Swayze’s passing. They probably don’t get a thrill every time someone says “Nobody puts Baby in a corner!” and they didn’t spend hours of their summers trying to do The Lift in the neighborhood pool. Maybe they were actually expecting the Italian Opera and the reverence it deserves?
Maybe these are the cultured people who have season tickets to the theataah.
And then there was us.
The six of us who are certainly not the shy and quiet kids, the six of us who laugh and love and enjoy a cocktail, the six of us who want to SING ALONG TO THE SONGS. And who cheer and laugh at the hilarious on-stage adaptations, who give a “whoop whoop” when there’s a kick-ass dance move or one of the cast members nails a song, who giggle yet support the blond guy on stage who is trying desperately to BE Swayze and the amazing actress who nailed the talent show rehearsal scene. The six of us determined to have fun and relive our tween moments, and yes, when Johnny comes running down the aisles of the Tennessee Theatre for the Last Scene, we are going to love it. I mean, come ON.
I’m still baffled by the evening. I make it sound like we’re heathens, of course we aren’t. We know how to behave and be respectful, but this was not the show that required Cotillion behavior. It was a complete clash of viewers – which marred the experience a bit for me.
Bottom line, if Dirty Dancing comes to your town – GO AS FAST AS YOU CAN.
And dear readers, just remember there is the theaatah, and there are the musical versions of goofy 1980’s movies. Attend accordingly.
Adventures In Active Wear 