Nov 14, 2022
Have you ever heard a dude say
that he would still bed Mary Anne from Gilligan’s Island, even if
she’s currently 110 years old? Well, the same goes for Sandy in
Grease. In fact, if those rambunctious teenaged gearheads hadn’t
soiled her white blouse, she might have remained a
virgin.
In my mind, she always
will be.
Youth is eternal in
film.
Because while
Kenickie’s Roman hands and Russian fingers were exploring the back
seat of the 1939 Packard with Rizzo, Danny was tuning up Greased
Lightnin’ with nothing but a pink slip in mind. That’s the
terminology for reigning victorious in a good old fashioned drag
race on the streets where the result is transferal of ownership by
way of a pink DMV form. And it’s also a term for underwear that’s
never been slipped past the knees. Which sweeps me back to glowing
memories of Sandy.
But why did they call
the movie “Grease” instead of “Motor Oil”? Because grease is to be
eaten, not poured into your engine. In fact, grease is one of the
tastiest items to have ever pleasured the human palette. It
slathers your frying pan. It butters your bread.
It styles your
hair.
Or at least it did in
the 1950’s.
Grease showed us a
glimpse into that period’s youth movement where sexual repression
graduated from soda fountain sips to gyrating hips. It’s a musical
look into the often-painful process of teen self-discovery against
centuries old religious indoctrination. And like all curious
yungins, these rambunctious punks were ready to define their own
style and music that counteracted the strict boredom their
grandparents embodied.
It was also an example
of the prevailing winds of love as Sandy was hopefully devoted to
Danny.
I’m hopelessly devoted
to this blunt before I watch Grease for the 14th time.