Perfect (Soundtrack) - 80’s aerobics, anyone?

Hollywood loves to beat a dead horse.  Just ask Black Beauty.  Or Elizabeth Taylor.  Find a formula and run with it.  Like Secretariat.  Or this opening.  From 1977 to 1985, there was a John Travolta formula.  Start with John Travolta, add a plot adapted from a spicy piece of investigative journalism, and finish off with a banging soundtrack.  A sure way for producers to print money.  Saturday Night Fever made Travolta a star and the Bee Gees the band you loved to hate and hated that you loved.  Who cares if the magazine piece in New York by Nik Cohn (“Tribal Rites of the New Saturday Night”) in 1976 about the trials and tribulations of love at a Brooklyn disco, waslargely, if not completely, fictional, because the soundtrack kicked ass.  Whether you believe the Saturday Night Feversoundtrack was the pinnacle of disco or brought it down into the gutter of the bridge and tunnels, the songs have become iconic.

In 1980, it was time to repeat the formula.  Travolta is always game, so he was on board.  This time the plot was adapted from an Esquire story written by Aaron Latham on the trials and tribulations of love at Gilley’s, a country and western bar in Pasadena, Texas, with a soundtrack of the best of country and western music.  Presto!!  You have Urban Cowboy.  The soundtrack revitalized the country and western music scene and birthed pop country paving the way for the music of Gilley’s to become the music of mainstream America.

In 1985, James Bridges, who directed Urban Cowboy, thought he had another winner.  He had Travolta.  He had the plot from a series of articles in Rolling Stone about the trials and tribulationsof love in the LA aerobics scene.  Here comes a bit of a twist.  The investigative journalism part of the formula now becomes part of the story.  Meta shit.  Travolta is a reporter.  In fact, the movie will be a celebration of magazines, i.e., Rolling Stone, which happened to be a shill for corporate rock, film, and politics.  Jann Wenner, attention and celebrity whore that he is, is in the movie.  

For the soundtrack, there was a bit of a twist as well.  The music did not really matter.  What mattered was MTV and the music video.  If the music and musicians looked good on video, then the actual sound was not important.  They may not be perfect pop tunes, but they were good enough.  Think visuals, kid.  This looks Perfect.

Why might you ask?  Because aerobics were a thing.  A massive thing.  Who cares if Jane Fonda was doing it.  Moms were doing it.  My mom, in particular.  I will never forget all the times my mother dragged my brother and me to her 7am aerobics class at Danskin Studio.  The clothes, the camaraderie, the choreography, the smells.  And, yes, the music.  It was a feast for the eyes and ears.  It was electric.  And my poor brother and I were bored to tears.  Waiting in line at the dry cleaner’s was better than this.  But surely the public was clamoring for a movie of extended aerobic routines set to the best in 80s rock.  Surely.  These weren’t Moms they were MILFs.  Eric Prydz’s “Call on Me” video on YouTube has 109 million views for Christ sake.  

Perfect bombed.  The movie was widely panned and currently has 18% on Rotten Tomatoes.  At the 6th Golden Raspberry Awards, Perfect received three nominations:  John Travolta – Worst Actor, Marilu Henner – Worst Supporting Actress, and Worst Screenplay.  None of that matters because the costume designers should have won an Oscar for the stunning array of leotards and jockstraps.   Better yet, whoever did Jamie Lee Curtis’ hair should have won a lifetime achievement award.  Curtis’ hair is the star of the movie, a perfect concoction of layered pastry and taxidermy that has strong vibes of Flock of Seagulls.  French kiss.

Perfect, which followed the previous bomb of Staying Alive, would sink Travolta’s career.  In a year he would be in the Look Who’s Talking franchise, a long way from classic films like Blow Out.  In 1994, Tarantino would revitalize Travolta’s career and make him an icon for a second time.  In a 1994 Rolling Stone interview, Tarantino called Perfect “woefully underappreciated.”  Perfect has become a cult classic of the so bad it’s good variety.  The How Did This Movie Get Made podcast did an episode (#121) on Perfect.  Jimmy Fallon parodied it, so you know the movie’s cult status has jumped the shark.

At Vinyl Vogue in the $2 bin where the woefully underappreciated lives and thrives is the soundtrack to Perfect, which features a host of Jermaines and a young Whitney Houston.  All these songs sound the same and do not matter at all.  What these songs do to the drum sound of the 1960s and 1970s of Bonham, Baker and Moon, is a crime against music. Fuck the machines, man.

The meat of the soundtrack is three songs by soundtrack titans:  The Pointer Sisters, Berlin, and The Thompson Twins.  All three have done their best work elsewhere.  The Pointers Sisters lack the heat of their Beverly Hills Cop efforts here and “Masquerade” by Berlin, which I do enjoy, is not up to the level of “Take My Breath Away” in Top Gun.  Like Perfect, Top Gunis just an irrelevant plot which fills in the spaces for the music video set pieces that truly make the movie worth watching.  Top Gun is a masterpiece in that regard, Perfect is not.  There is no “Take My Breath Away” or “Danger Zone” in Perfect.  

Case in point, The Thompson Twins “Lay Your Hands On Me” is a perfectly good song, but it is no “If You Were Here” that ends the sublime and ridiculous Sixteen Candles.  The closing five minutes or so with Samantha Baker, Jake Ryan, and The Thompson Twins are pure bliss.  Watch it late at night after several beers.  Tell me if you don’t shed a tear, you heartless, soulless slob.

Then there is Wham!’s “Wham! Rap (Enjoy What You Do)”.  I do not enjoy what you do at all.  Nuff said.

Now you might be asking, why should I buy this soundtrack if itis not as good as Beverly Hills Cop, Top Gun, or Sixteen Candles?  Or Saturday Night Fever?  Or Urban Cowboy?  Good question!!  There is one answer:  Lou Reed’s “Hot Hips”.  This is Lou at his most cynical, his most soulless, his most sold out.  Fuck Metal Machine Music.  That album is a classic and a work of art.  “Hot Hips” might very well be Lou Reed’s worst song in his entire catalog.  And that is saying something because Lou’s discography was far from perfect, but a compelling case could be made that “Hot Hips” is the least perfect of all.  It must be quoted in its entirety to capture its brilliance.

Funky hot hips
Funky hot hips
Funky hot hips

Funky hot hips
I would do anything
I would do anything
To get to your funky hot hip, hey

Funky hot hips
I would do play the fool
I'd play the fool for you
To get to your funky hot hip

Hip-hop-bop-flop, baby, don't you ever stop
Funky hot hips
Hip-hop-bop-flop, baby, don't you ever stop
Funky hot hips

Funky hot hips
I would do anything
I would do anything
To get to your funky hot hip

Funky hot hips
I would do play the fool
I'd play the fool for you
To get to your funky hot hip

It is like watching your grandma do aerobics.  Car crash stuff.  Captivating.  Erotic.  Disturbing.  Uncoordinated.

Suggested sites and sounds:  

MILF aerobics:  Eric Prydz – Call On Me (Official 4K Video) [2004] | MINISTRY VAULTS - YouTube

Jamie Lee Curtis’ Hair and Other Parts:  Jamie Lee Curtis As A Jessie (From Perfect) (1985)

Jimmy Fallon Doing Jimmy Fallon Stuff:  Jamie Lee Curtis and Jimmy Recreate “Perfect” Aerobic Fitness Scene | The Tonight Show

Five Minutes of Bliss:  Sixteen Candles - Ending

Enjoy??:  Wham! - Wham Rap! (Enjoy What You Do?) (Official Video)

Shake It, Lou:  Lou Reed - Hot Hips (Perfect) (1985)

— Lou Waxman