I don't think I'm supposed to rip my shirt and gnash my teeth at the idea
someone remade 1984's "Footloose," a story where a big-city kid comes to
a small town where dancing is banned and helps the town heal their hearts
and bust a move. The original is iconic -- a phrase that, these days,
often means "vaguely remembered" -- in no small part thanks to the charisma of
Kevin Bacon and a couple of pop songs that, while
hardly classic, are at least infectiously memorable. But it's hardly great art,
and it's hardly sacrosanct, and, at the very least, remake director Craig Brewer ("Hustle & Flow," "Black Snake Moan") adds just enough sweaty,
soulful Southern funk that his "Footloose" has a little wiggle in its hips as it
goes through the motions.
Now, city kid Ren is played by Kenny Wormald, who's moved from
Boston to Bomont, Ga., after his mom's passing, taken in by Aunt Lulu (Kim Dickens, wasted in one scene) and uncle Wes
(character actor Ray McKinnon in a sly, strong performance that
adds a lot). But Ren's adaptation to rural Georgia is going to be hard,
especially since the Bomont city fathers, after a post-dance accident that
killed five teens three years ago, passed ordinances making dancing illegal
except at city-sanctioned events, and a curfew and anti-noise ordinances as
well. Spearheading the town's piety is the Rev. Shaw Moore (Dennis Quaid, all flinty American rectitude), but
the Rev. has a wild-child daughter of his own, Ariel (Julianne Hough), with her own capacity for acting
out, and she has eyes for Ren.
The plot is simple, the subtext is text, so how does Brewer (adapting Dean
Pitchford's original screenplay) fill time? Well, mostly with dance numbers,
which are superb. There's a line-dancing sequence that plays as comedy
since Ren's new pal, the lunkish, lovable Willard (Miles Teller, charismatic as hell
and wildly different from his amazing turn in "Rabbit Hole"), doesn't know how
to dance and has to learn, most notably to get a girl. Then it plays as an
all-out strut-and-grind hoedown dance number to Big & Rich's song "Fake
ID," with great performances (Hough's look of lust is something to behold) and
great choreography at the same time. And all the dance numbers are that superbly
executed -- even if Ren's "I'm so mad I have to go to an abandoned factory, play
the White Stripes and DANCE!" montage looks a little silly -- with fun and sweat
and music and youth popping off the screen.
I could complain about minor matters -- Wormald isn't Bacon, and he feels a
little too stiff and lean; a little looseness would have helped him, and us,
enjoy the film more. Hough has a well-conditioned set of muscles -- I cannot
help but notice that, as time passes, teen idols are getting more and more
aerobicized and less and less interesting -- but she pours a little vim and
vigor into her good-girl-who-thinks-she's-bad performance. It would have been
easy to remake this film with Quaid as a shouting, spit-flecked avatar of the
far Right and the very wrong, with Ren as a paragon. Instead, the movie does
something a lot more conversational and a lot more interesting.
And again, no one here is remaking "Lawrence of Arabia." Wormald does fine, with his
thick "Bahstaaan" accent and his capacity for making you care about Ren's
struggle. (And again, McKinnon is the epitome of a supporting actor here:
stepping back, waiting for the perfect time to come out, then hitting a triple
that gets Wormald home. Hopefully, he'll be recognized for his efforts.)
Ultimately Quaid's preacher has to ask, "If we don't trust our children, how
will our children be trustworthy?" before a big dance that not only a) lets Ren
defeat the bad bullies bothering Ariel, but also b) unites the town in joy, even
if it does take place over the county line and c) gives us a big ol' whoopin,
hollerin' finale. The man starring in this "Footloose" isn't Kevin Bacon; the
man singing "Footloose" isn't Kenny Loggins. But Brewer puts just enough smarts,
sweat and swagger into his version of the dance steps making up this film that
you can't help but move your feet and hum along.
James Rocchi's writings on film have appeared at Cinematical.com,
Netflix.com, AMCtv.com, IFC.com, SFGate.com and in Mother Jones magazine. He was
also the on-air film critic for San Francisco's CBS-5 from 2006 to 2008. He now
lives in Los Angeles, where every ending is a twist ending.
For
more movie news, follow MSN Movies on Facebook and Twitter.
I don't think I'm supposed to rip my shirt and gnash my teeth at the idea
someone remade 1984's "Footloose," a story where a big-city kid comes to
a small town where dancing is banned and helps the town heal their hearts
and bust a move. The original is iconic -- a phrase that, these days,
often means "vaguely remembered" -- in no small part thanks to the charisma of
Kevin Bacon and a couple of pop songs that, while
hardly classic, are at least infectiously memorable. But it's hardly great art,
and it's hardly sacrosanct, and, at the very least, remake director Craig Brewer ("Hustle & Flow," "Black Snake Moan") adds just enough sweaty,
soulful Southern funk that his "Footloose" has a little wiggle in its hips as it
goes through the motions.
Now, city kid Ren is played by Kenny Wormald, who's moved from
Boston to Bomont, Ga., after his mom's passing, taken in by Aunt Lulu (Kim Dickens, wasted in one scene) and uncle Wes
(character actor Ray McKinnon in a sly, strong performance that
adds a lot). But Ren's adaptation to rural Georgia is going to be hard,
especially since the Bomont city fathers, after a post-dance accident that
killed five teens three years ago, passed ordinances making dancing illegal
except at city-sanctioned events, and a curfew and anti-noise ordinances as
well. Spearheading the town's piety is the Rev. Shaw Moore (Dennis Quaid, all flinty American rectitude), but
the Rev. has a wild-child daughter of his own, Ariel (Julianne Hough), with her own capacity for acting
out, and she has eyes for Ren.
The plot is simple, the subtext is text, so how does Brewer (adapting Dean
Pitchford's original screenplay) fill time? Well, mostly with dance numbers,
which are superb. There's a line-dancing sequence that plays as comedy
since Ren's new pal, the lunkish, lovable Willard (Miles Teller, charismatic as hell
and wildly different from his amazing turn in "Rabbit Hole"), doesn't know how
to dance and has to learn, most notably to get a girl. Then it plays as an
all-out strut-and-grind hoedown dance number to Big & Rich's song "Fake
ID," with great performances (Hough's look of lust is something to behold) and
great choreography at the same time. And all the dance numbers are that superbly
executed -- even if Ren's "I'm so mad I have to go to an abandoned factory, play
the White Stripes and DANCE!" montage looks a little silly -- with fun and sweat
and music and youth popping off the screen.
I could complain about minor matters -- Wormald isn't Bacon, and he feels a
little too stiff and lean; a little looseness would have helped him, and us,
enjoy the film more. Hough has a well-conditioned set of muscles -- I cannot
help but notice that, as time passes, teen idols are getting more and more
aerobicized and less and less interesting -- but she pours a little vim and
vigor into her good-girl-who-thinks-she's-bad performance. It would have been
easy to remake this film with Quaid as a shouting, spit-flecked avatar of the
far Right and the very wrong, with Ren as a paragon. Instead, the movie does
something a lot more conversational and a lot more interesting.
And again, no one here is remaking "Lawrence of Arabia." Wormald does fine, with his
thick "Bahstaaan" accent and his capacity for making you care about Ren's
struggle. (And again, McKinnon is the epitome of a supporting actor here:
stepping back, waiting for the perfect time to come out, then hitting a triple
that gets Wormald home. Hopefully, he'll be recognized for his efforts.)
Ultimately Quaid's preacher has to ask, "If we don't trust our children, how
will our children be trustworthy?" before a big dance that not only a) lets Ren
defeat the bad bullies bothering Ariel, but also b) unites the town in joy, even
if it does take place over the county line and c) gives us a big ol' whoopin,
hollerin' finale. The man starring in this "Footloose" isn't Kevin Bacon; the
man singing "Footloose" isn't Kenny Loggins. But Brewer puts just enough smarts,
sweat and swagger into his version of the dance steps making up this film that
you can't help but move your feet and hum along.
James Rocchi's writings on film have appeared at Cinematical.com,
Netflix.com, AMCtv.com, IFC.com, SFGate.com and in Mother Jones magazine. He was
also the on-air film critic for San Francisco's CBS-5 from 2006 to 2008. He now
lives in Los Angeles, where every ending is a twist ending.
For
more movie news, follow MSN Movies on Facebook and Twitter.