You’re getting ready for a BYO with your friends on a Saturday night. The TV blares in the background as you put on your make–up, contributing some background noise so your neighbors think you have people over even though it’s just you. Suddenly, a familiar tune begins to play:
“I’ve had the time of my life…”
Screw the BYO. Dirty Dancing is on.
The classic 1987 dance flick stars a pre–nose–job Jennifer Grey as Frances “Baby” Houseman, the youngest daughter of a well–known doctor who is vacationing with her family at an upscale resort in the Catskills. Baby, stubborn and clearly suffering from some teenage angst, offers to help carry some watermelons to an after–hours staff mixer, where the “dirty dancing” intrigues her. Clearly Baby has never been to a frat party, where the most common dance move is a girl pressed up against a wall while her partner gyrates around her pelvis. She becomes mesmerized with the hot, sexy, dreamy dance instructor, Johnny Castle (Patrick Swayze), and he begins to give her some dance lessons. The rest is a whirlwind of cheesy ‘60s dance music (“Big Girls Don’t Cry,” but not the Fergie one), twirling and nipplitis (come on Baby, everyone knows what happens when you go swimming in your all–white outfit). There’s also something about an abortion, but I tend to block that part out because it bums me out and there’s no dancing.
Dirty Dancing is by all means the cheesiest dance movie of all time, but its talented cast of dancers and catchy soundtrack never ceases to please. It’s also a touching reminder of Patrick Swayze in his prime. So next time you’re flicking through the channels (aka wallowing in a Lifetime movie marathon), give Dirty Dancing another try. And remember, nobody puts Baby in the corner. NOBODY.
