We Go Together?

Grease is the word, but it’s overrated.

Yes, I’m aware of the number of people I’m about to offend.

In the fifteen years that I taught choir and theatre, students would beg me to consider Jim Jacobs and Warren Casey’s raunchy musical about working-class teenagers navigating sex, romance, rebellion, and peer pressure in 1950s Chicago for either a movie day or a mainstage production.

Even though I knew it would be a cash cow for the department and that casting, costuming, and audience appeal would be a breeze, my answer never wavered.

“Grease is nails on the chalkboard of my heart.”

This criticism extends beyond a single adaptation. For the sake of the prompt, I'll focus on the 1978 film. There are countless musicals deserving our attention, but for some reason, we’re all still stuck at Rydell High.

I. Young Love: Why Am I Supposed to Care?

The entire plot depends on Danny and Sandy’s epic summer romance, but we don’t experience enough of it. “Summer Nights” is exposition after the fact, where we’re getting two vastly different versions of events.

And don’t even get me started on the whole “Did she put up a fight?” business.

Who was Danny that summer? Was he truly different without the T-Birds? If so, Sandy arriving at Rydell and discovering this other Danny should be a much bigger deal. Not to mention a huge red flag.

Yes, the actors have chemistry, but that’s not the same as compatibility. Therefore, every breakup, reconciliation, or romantic hijinks is operating on assumed stakes. I don’t enjoy their love story because I don’t believe them unless they’re singing.

“Hopelessly Devoted to You” makes Sandy’s love feel inevitable. “Sandy” lets Danny’s heartbreak be enormous. “You’re the One That I Want” ushers in their triumphant reunion.

Whenever I watch Grease, I’m left indifferent to whether or not Danny and Sandy make it. Distracted? Sure. Entertained? A little. But indifferent all the same. Even when the songs are performed beautifully, they’re forcing us to buy into something the script hasn’t adequately earned.

For me, that cheapens the whole thing.

II. Those Magic Changes

Usual criticisms are that Sandy reinvents herself for Danny and that’s a bad message to send to young audiences. Agreed. Except…Danny does this, too, albeit briefly.

Neither transformation demonstrates that the central problems have changed. This movie spends two hours raising questions about identity, expectations, masculinity, sexuality and conformity…and resolves them largely through costuming?

Make it make sense.

Both characters have identities imposed upon them. That’s intriguing!

Danny repeatedly chooses social approval over Sandy, who is trapped in everybody else’s perception of innocence. When he dons the letterman and she the leather pants, we celebrate with a hand jive. But we don’t know that Danny has conquered his need for his friends’ approval. And we can’t be certain whether Sandy’s transformation reflects true self-discovery or surrender to peer pressure.

If she genuinely decided to start anew, then I’m okay with this evolution. Go forth, Sandy. Smoke the cigarette badly.

There is potentially a great story in two teenagers learning to stop performing identities and meet somewhere in the middle, but we don’t get that here.

What hurts the most as a writer is that Grease KNOWS how to create emotional tension. We see that in Rizzo and Kenickie’s relationship.

Their bravados protect tender egos neither wants the other to see. Rizzo’s pregnancy scare threatens her reputation, his freedom, and the pair’s carefully maintained independence.

Stockard Channing delivers what is arguably some of the best acting in the film. Rizzo has more complexity on the page, yes, but Channing makes every defense mechanism believable.

“There Are Worse Things I Could Do” reveals the social cost of Rizzo’s scandalous scenario. You care because you understand what she has to lose. Why weren’t Danny and Sandy afforded that same depth?

Sadly, Rizzo’s false alarm abruptly resolves at the carnival. Once again, this movie touches an emotionally complicated subject and immediately retreats. What a tease!

III. Seriously, Where Are the Chaperones?

Let’s take a bird’s eye view at what the T-Birds and Pink Ladies are dealing with: There’s a new student from another country with a volatile first-love situation. Another is on the verge of dropping out. Sexual double standards run rampant, and the consequences of a teenage pregnancy are looming overhead.

Somebody call Mister Feeney out of retirement.

The only grown-ups shown or mentioned are either cringe or comic relief. Principal McGee rings bells. Coach Calhoun makes Danny run laps. Mrs. Murdock fixes cars. And then there’s Vince Fontaine, who is absolutely the last man on Earth I’d send a vulnerable teenage girl to for guidance.

Frankie Avalon provides the CLOSEST thing to a voice of reason in this entire movie, descending from Heaven because apparently divine intervention is the only way to get through to these youngsters.

Family relationships (even a sibling or cousin dynamic) could tell us so much more about the primary group. But we barely know them outside their peer ecosystem, which makes the characters feel one-dimensional.

I mean, Charlie Brown had adults in the room.

Granted, they spoke exclusively in trombone.

IV. Spectacle vs. Substance

John Travolta understood the assignment. His physical comedy alone is terrific. Narratively, it’s ridiculous that Danny behaves badly at the drive-in and then performs an emotional ballad. Because of “Greased Lightnin’,” I’ll let it slide.

I probably should have said this earlier, but Olivia Newton-John is a charming, vocally pristine angel whose legacy must be protected at all costs. As Sandy, she sells what little emotional material the script gives her enough to resonate. May she rest in peace.

Committed, distinctive, and iconic, if anyone else had played these roles, I’m not convinced we’d still be talking about them.

Beyond the performances, what I admire most about Grease is its energy. The costume design, imagery, dance, and quotability make this film worthy of some of its acclaim.

SOME.

Grease is the delicious Twinkie of musical theatre. It’s sweet, nostalgic, and immediately recognizable. I can understand why people keep gobbling up those empty calories (and its sequel). My frustration comes from knowing what else is available for consumption.

Across stage and screen, there are musicals doing far more dramatically that receive a fraction of Grease's cultural adoration. Big Fish, The Light in the Piazza, Violet, or She Loves Me (just to name a few). All are capable of being funny, romantic, spectacular, accessible and emotionally nourishing yet will never have students (or patrons) clamoring for them at the same rate as Grease because nobody has introduced them to those shows.

I’m not asking Grease to be Les Misérables. Comedy, fantasy, camp and spectacle can all coexist with meaningful stakes.

Take Xanadu, for example. Xanadu is far more absurd than Grease, but it establishes its fantastical terms and commits to them wholeheartedly. A roller-skating Greek muse, Gene Kelly, animated sequence, ELO, neon, the whole glorious fever dream. Despite its ridiculous premise, you’re invested in what Kira wants.

See? I’m not a monster.

I will enthusiastically accept nonsense when it’s merited.

That said, art is subjective. Musicals don't have to be profound to make you care.

Grease looks backward at the 1950s from the 1970s. As a Millennial, I respect this and understand why subsequent generations became nostalgic for Grease itself. Popularity perpetuates popularity. Yet when people retroactively assign Grease a greatness it hasn’t earned, its cultural ubiquity becomes proof of its supposed greatness. Cue the reprise.

Okay, I’ve said my piece. You and Eugene can throw pies at me now.