Film Friday: Strictly Ballroom (1992)

Written by Ayn Rand, Strictly Ballroom is one of my favorite romantic movie. Ok, I’m kidding, it wasn’t written by Ayn Rand, though it could have been. I’ll bet no one has ever told you that before!

** spoiler alert **

Strictly Ballroom began life as a play written by Baz Luhrmann and Andrew Bovell. In 1992, Luhrmann (Moulin Rouge) made it into a movie. . . his first. With a wry sense of humor, a sharp wit, and a flare for the ridiculous, Luhrmann turned what would have been just an another low-budget ugly duckling tale into a worldwide sensation that continues to appear on "best of" lists today. And in the process, he gave us one of the better romantic movies of the last couple decades.

Strictly Ballroom is the story of Scott Hastings (Paul Mercurio), and his struggle against the powers that be. Scott has been dreaming of winning the Pan Pacific Grand Prix ballroom dancing championship since he was six years old. Under the guidance of his über stage-mother Shirley (who never managed to win the Grand Prix herself), Scott has become the champion dancer of Kendall’s Dance Academy. Les Kendall is Shirley’s ex-dance partner. Scott's father, we're told, doesn't dance and is withdrawn into his own world.

As the story opens, we learn that all is not well with Scott. Scott is a talented dancer, but feels trapped by the regimented rules of ballroom dancing. He wishes to dance his own moves (steps). But this doesn’t suit the powers that be, specifically Australian Dancing Federal Chairman Barry Fife. Fife warns Scott that he cannot use his own steps: “there will be no new steps!” But Scott ignores him and thereby sets into motion a chain of events that will shake the Grand Prix world to its very foundations.

When Scott first displays his new steps, the powers that be instantly turn on Scott. He's disqualified from the event and threatened with further disqualification. His dance partner Liz, unable to stand the strain of living on the edge of propriety, leaves Scott so she can dance with his biggest competitor, Ken Railings. Scott’s mother lays a heavy guilt trip on him, as she very visibly suffers a near nervous breakdown trying to reign Scott in and find him a new partner. But Scott will not be bowed. He wants to dance his own steps. All he needs is a partner.

Enter Fran. Fran (Tara Morice) is a shy Spanish girl with bad skin, glasses and a horrible fashion sense. She’s only a beginner dancer, but when Scott loses Liz, Fran asks to dance with him. Scott at first scoffs at the notion he would dance with a mere beginner, but he soon becomes intrigued when he learns she too has invented her own moves. Soon Scott sets about teaching her to dance, so she can become his partner.

This leads to the usual ugly duckling scenes, as Fran is made more attractive, as misunderstandings and insecurities interfere in their relationship, and as Scott learns he doesn’t know everything. Indeed, some of the best scenes in the movie come after Scott meets Fran’s father and grandmother and discovers they too are dancers: “Show me your Paso Doble!”

All the while, Scott’s mother and the rest of the powers that be try to shut him down, to separate him from Fran and to make him dance with Tina Sparkle -- a former Grand Prix winner. They even try to drive Fran away. But Scott will not listen, as he is falling for Fran. As an aside, the scene where Scott’s mother finally realizes what Scott is up to -- when she and everyone else catch Scott and Fran dancing behind a stage curtain, is probably my favorite dance in any film.

With Scott slipping out of their grasp, the powers that be turn up the heat on Scott. A decision is made to tell Scott his father was destroyed by his own selfish desires to dance his own steps. . . a decision that remains a powerful wedge between Scott’s father and Scott’s mother to this very day. But this is all a dirty lie, meant to cover up a shocking betrayal. At the same time, plans are put into place to guarantee Scott cannot win, no matter what he does. But why would this group of glitterati go to such lengths to stop Scott from dancing new moves? Why is he such a risk to them? Because they can’t do these steps, and that means they can’t teach these steps. And that means they lose their power and their jobs. In the words of Chairman Barry Fife: “If you can’t dance a step, you can’t teach it, and if you can’t teach it, we might as well all pack up and go home.”

Now there’s one more thing you need to know. This whole movie is satire. That's right. The Pan Pacific Grand Prix, the event that tears these people apart, is nothing more than a local, amateur dancing competition. That’s it. This makes lines like the following from Barry Fife wonderfully absurd: “Let's not forget, that a Pan Pacific Champion becomes a hero, a guiding light to all dancers, someone who'll set the right example.” Moreover, the characters are wonderfully drawn. Les Kendell sprouts malapropisms every time he speaks. Shirley is so tan she's become orange. Fife plays the heavy from behind a shockingly bad toupee. Ken Railings, the evil competitor, is an alcoholic hot tub salesman. Even Doug Hastings, the henpecked father, has a terrible secret (and a great dance scene). And the cast of dancers are painted and feathered to the absurd.

Many compare this move to Dirty Dancing, but the two really are very different. Whereas Dirty Dancing was entirely serious, Strictly Ballroom is thoroughly tongue in cheek. I also must say the choreography in Strictly Ballroom is superior. Dirty Dancing was very typical Hollywood. It was designed to be flashy and, where it was meant to be sexy, it was obvious and oversexed. The dancing in Strictly Ballroom, by comparison, showed tremendous technical skill. You felt like you were peeking in on dancers testing their limits in private, as compared to Dirty Dancing which felt staged. And unlike the over-sexed Dirty Dancing, I would describe the dances between Fran and Scott as intimate and sensual. Dirty Dancing strikes me as the kind of dancing that would be fun to watch, but Strictly Ballroom strikes me as the kind of dancing you wished you could do.

So how does Ayn Rand fit into this? I doubt Luhrmann had Rand in mind when he wrote this, but he’s absolutely picked up every element of The Fountainhead. Scott, like Roark, is a true talent, a savant. He's also unorthodox, seeing a better way. But the powers that be, a group of certified professionals who lack talent but who are the gatekeepers to Scott’s dream by virtue of their being deigned to be the best by their fellows, are desperate to stop him despite his talent (or because of it). They see him as a threat to their way of life. His talent exposes the lack of theirs, and they would rather society be deprived of what he can achieve than have their own deficiencies laid bare. Thus, they try to sway him, they try to threaten him, they even co-opt those closest to him. Yet, in the end, Scott, like Roark, decides he would rather see his dream destroyed and lose the Gran Prix than sacrifice his principles. In this way, Strictly Ballroom is The Fountainhead only with the 14 hour ending speech by Roark replaced succinctly by Scott with: “Fran, I wanna dance with you!” (and with fewer explosions).

Maybe this is why Strictly Ballroom resonates so well? Maybe this is why Strictly Ballroom is so much more than your typical ugly duckling movie? Perhaps, it's the Randian message of defeating the oppression of the mediocre, of letting the savants set their own standards, that drives this movie home? After all, we can all relate to having been frustrated by people who lacked our vision. Or maybe, we just liked the music?

And while you’re pondering that. . . show me your Paso Doble!