FAST FORWARD: A Bad Movie I’ve Watched Many, Many, MANY Times

Bad Movies

Fast Forward

I swear, every once in a while I’ll go over a film and think, “All right, THIS movie is the apex (or perhaps ‘nadir’) of 80s-ness.  No movie can be more 80s than this.”  And then I find out that it’s a false bottom, and there is something EVEN 80s-er than that.

I think Fast Forward is truly the bottom.  It is as 80s as possible.  But maybe there is something more 80s.  And that frightens me.

Original Soundtrack Fast-Forward 1985Fast Forward is directed by Hollywood giant Sidney Poitier.  Yes.  Sidney Poitier, acting powerhouse.  He is not noted for is directing.  This movie gives you a good idea why.

So, we start with eight kids in Sandusky, Ohio, a town whose major industry is making kids who’ve got one shot to get out of this place, and they pretty much sort-of-secret rehearse a dance number.  I say sort-of-secret because there’s a whole sense that they’re being clandestine about it—they sneak into the abandoned warehouse to do it, the radio is hidden under things… but then they blast music and sing and dance, so… what’s with the sneaking?

Anyhow, these crazy kids have a dream of going to New York and being in some contest to show that they’ve GOT WHAT IT TAKES.  About these eight kids, briefly—the Amazing Eight—two guys, who I’ll just call Manager Guy and Dancer Guy, and six girls who are multiracial but largely interchangeable.  I mean, I think two of them are explicit girlfriends of the two guys, but… eh, doesn’t matter.

The group has an in to this contest, in that the head of the record company came through town, and the two guys dressed like waiters and snuck into his hotel room.   Despite annoying the everloving piss out of this guy, they still get his card.  Unfortunately, in between then and now, he died, and the New Jerk In Charge isn’t that interested in these kids.  Plus the actual contest isn’t for three weeks, so, come back later.

That last part is strange.  I don’t mean that it’s three weeks away, but that whoever is in the contest isn’t locked down at this point with it only three weeks out.  Or maybe it is locked down, but the guy doesn’t confirm that.  Instead he talks numbers of how many will be in the finals (ten), and how many can win (one), and thus these hick kids from Ohio should just go home.

Disparaged but not defeated, they decide they need to prove that THEY CAN MAKE IT IN THIS TOWN, if they just have gumption.  And they have gumption in spades.  So they pool their money together (wouldn’t they have done this part already) and find an apartment to share.  Which makes me ask: in Plan A, where were they planning on sleeping that night?

The apartment is an absurd hole of a place.  I mean, let alone that it has three designated harassers out front, but it’s in comically bad condition.  Rot, mold, nastiness and shambles.  What makes it just art is how the landlady shows it to them with cliché big-city cynicism.  Not an ounce of shame as she shows them just how crappy the whole thing is.  She even looks genuinely shocked that they’ll take it, because who would dare live in such a horror show?

Except, of course, its badness is mostly cosmetic, since a montage of scrubbing, painting and low-cost furniture acquisition ends with it looking perfectly serviceable.  (Though, paint’s not free.  How they could buy that and not just find money for a less horrible place, I don’t know.)  But then they have to solve the next problem: eating.  (This is despite the fact that they even SAY they’ve been cleaning for three days.)  So Manager Guy HAS A PLAN.

8159The plan is basically to crash a fancy hotel restaurant.  I swear, Manager Guy is sitting alone at a table, wearing what must be his only decent jacket and looking utterly out of place.  After a bit of looking around suspiciously, he reaches under the table and turns a boombox on.  Music blares, and everyone who works the restaurant just looks confused.  Like, I swear to God, the guy at the piano looks around and at his own hands, like he’s thinking, “WHAT?  WHERE IS THIS NON-PIANO MUSIC COMING FROM?”  Then the dancers all show up LITERALLY OUT OF NOWHERE on the convenient dance floor.  Seriously, seven people in bright, skin-tight leotards just show up, one-by-one, and they did not exist in the restaurant before appearing to dance.  These kids really should have listed “teleportation” on their resume.

Once the dance number is done, while the restaurant people have their collective panties in a bunch, the crowd applauds, but Manager Guy plays Obvious Ringer Is Obvious, where he insists on putting all the money in his pocket into their hat, and then tells others to do the same.  So they make decent money, but the restaurant people are mad at them.  Little is made of it: it smash cuts from the maître d’ saying, “I want to talk to THAT GUY!” to the group laughing and eating steak in their apartment, everything cool even though Manager Guy clearly had a long conversation with hotel staff.

So, they take to street dancing, and seem to do fine enough.  They make some money, pass out cards, and the Designated Rich Girl Love Interest sees Manager Guy and eye-fucks the living hell out of him.  But she’s an 80s-movie Rich Girl, so she has a disapproving mother telling her to come along to the car.

The kids adjust to varying degrees to living in the city, whether it’s avoiding the Neighborhood Rapists, or hanging out with the Rich Girl Love Interest, or making sad, wordless phone calls to mom and dad in Sandusky.  They also attract some negative attention by a SERIOUS Street Dance Gang, and they have to go to some club to defend their honor.

Tell me I'm wrong!  You can't, because I'm not!

Tell me I’m wrong! You can’t, because I’m not!

So there’s a dance-fight against the world’s only Vibe Cosplayer and his gang of dancers, and I have to give the movie credit here that they clearly show our heroes getting TROUNCED.  Like, they have solid form and technique, but they can’t hold a candle to the raw energy the other group is putting out.  This depresses our heroes, but they also double down and decide they have to get their street skills together before they are in any real competition.  So they watch other street dancers and learn new moves.

Meanwhile there’s a few subplots.  Rich Girl Love Interest (who, of course, refers to her mother as “Mother”, in that she’s wanting to set up a gig for them to work a party at her estate, but doing so means Manager Guy like, meets with her and such.  This annoys everyone else, like he’s getting too big for the group or something.  Mind you, he doesn’t act like he’s now too important to rehearse or deal with them—they just give him crap because he’s interacting with the Rich Girl.  Well, and some making-out.

Also the Neighborhood Rapists need to make quota for the month, so they up their game.  When one such attack—which the two girls involved do a damn fine job of fighting off—brings the cops, the girls get brought down to the station, and the cops call their parents in Ohio.  AS IF THIS WAS A THING THAT WOULD HAPPEN.  (Mind you, I’m not sure why the girls try to run away when the cops show up.)  Angry Ohio Dads show up, and glower, but decide to trust these kids to give it a shot.

The Rich Girl subplot culminates with Manager Guy getting caught in the kissing, which irritates his nominal girlfriend, and she wants to quit and go home.  Until she doesn’t, but for the sake of the group, not Manager Guy.  Drinking may have been involved in the resolution of this one.

Subplots over and new moves learned, they go back to the club and school their previous schoolers, which earns them respect or something.  Now nothing can stop them from winning that competition!

Well, except for the small fact that they aren’t actually in that competition.  Partly because Manager Guy pissed off Rich Girl’s Mother and Boyfriend, so the record exec isn’t going to give them a shot.  So it’s time for a long shot: going straight to the widow of the former executive of the record company. She also calls Rich Girl’s Mother, but when Rich Girl’s Mother trashes them, that convinces the Widow—who actually doesn’t like Rich Girl’s Mother—that they must be worth a shot.

However, the actual Executive in Charge isn’t taking the Widow’s advice.  He’s Big Business!  He has a New Way of Doing Things!  Time to make money instead of “keeping promises”.  So they aren’t in.

Except the Widow is too old for that shit.  She decides FUCK EVERYTHING and she’s going to help them.  This involves her dressing up like a punk old lady and using the people in the company who are still loyal to her to sneak the Eight into the competition.

Now, there’s a whole thing that the New Exec has his favorite band in there, and he’s sort of rigging things for their sake so he can sign them up.  And that’s bad.  As opposed to the Widow, who is rigging things for the group she likes.  Because that’s good!

And of course they win because that’s what happens in these movies.  Let’s ignore the fact that this for a recording contract, and everyone else in the competition is a band, you know, with instruments, and the Eight are dancers who also sing to canned music.

But they win!  And Manager Guy and Nominal Girlfriend make up, because of course they do! Widow is taking her company back from New Exec because she says so, and that’s that! Everything will be awesome now!


I’m just saying, if the part of the message of the movie is for the winners to be people with heart and realness over flash and spectacle, because they worked so damn hard, then maybe it shouldn’t be that the winners we follow are more flash and spectacle than, you know, actual music.

Or perhaps not have the endgame of the movie involve dancers winning a battle of the bands.


NEXT WEEK: The Last Dragon

PREVIOUSLY: Just One Of The Guys


3 thoughts on “FAST FORWARD: A Bad Movie I’ve Watched Many, Many, MANY Times

  1. Marshall, I have this rant about “When Actors Direct!” that I’m sure I’ve gone into on the AV Club a few times (most recently talking about Richard Benjamin in the HE & SHE overview, in fact!). With few exceptions (Clint Eastwood being one of them, I think), when an actor directs s/he comes from the perspective of an actor, wanting to give the actors room to showcase their performances – usually at the expense of pacing and shaping a complete project. Also, their idea of a “directorial style” often tends to be “Cool Tricks I’ve Seen Other Directors Use, Whether They Fit or Not!” (Admittedly Eastwood did this as well, starting out by essentially mimicking Sergio Leone and Don Siegel, but he’s always had a better eye for what worked and what didn’t.) Their understanding of the technical side of directing is minimal at best – which leads me back to Sidney Poitier, who after directing about eight or nine movies finally found out what a prime lens could do that a zoom lens couldn’t!

  2. (Though, paint’s not free. How they could buy that and not just find money for a less horrible place, I don’t know.)

    Paint and spackle’s a lot cheaper than a better apartment, especially if they’re in New York City! My wife and I lived in a studio apartment in NYC during the Eighties and Nineties – $800/mo. in a building with electricity that had last been renovated during the Eisenhower Administration (turn on the toaster-oven and our computer, or the microwave and the AC, at the same time, and it was a 50-50 chance we’d blow the one fuse to our entire place!), had a carpet that was threadbare when we moved in and got more so over the 17 years we lived there, and didn’t get painted the entire time we were residents – and we were thrilled at what a bargain it was because it was inexpensive, rent-controlled and on the Upper West Side! When I looked for a comparable apartment (to serve as a pied-à-terre) after we moved out of NYC about eight years ago, the cheapest I could find was $1,500/mo., without rent control and in really bad neighborhoods.

    Besides, you can cadge partial cans of both paint and spackle (plywood, cloth for curtains/drapery, and second-hand furniture, too!) from home renovators or theater companies throwing out stuff they don’t need any more, or buy all this very cheaply from the same, if you know where to look and aren’t too picky about colors matching perfectly. When I was with the radio company about the time this movie was made, we’d gotten a space rent-free for a few years to get started (one of the member’s mother lent it to us since nobody else was using it then, and that part of town hadn’t been gentrified yet) – we spent a weekend painting the walls a variety of white-ish shades, putting up thick drapes to muffle outside sounds and carpet scraps to muffle footsteps, and a crazy-quilt mix of thrown-out egg cartons from the nearby chicken sales warehouse and a few pieces of real styrofoam soundproofing to soundproof where the mikes were.

  3. Pingback: THE LAST DRAGON: A Bad Movie I’ve Watched Many, Many, MANY Times | We Stream TV!

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