The first cd I ever bought was the Dick Tracy soundtrack. I bought it at a used cd store in Marietta in 1990, when I was 10 years old. I believe the rest of my family had been shopping for Laserdiscs. I still love this cd. It's all Madonna singing big band music written by some Hollywood dude (with a pony tail, surely) in the late 80s. She's laying on the sexy. When my parents left me alone I would push all the furniture back against the walls and do a dance routine to the song "More," complete with imaginary canes and a chair as a prop. "More" was a celebration of excess: "Got my diamonds, Got my yacht, Got a guy I adore. I'm so happy with what I've got, I want more!"
I have no idea what the plot of the movie was, but Madonna wore a very low neck gown and she was bad (always making puns on Mr. Tracy's first name) and a singer in a night club. I loved her like any girl who was born in 1980 did, and I thought she was beautiful.
Warren Beatty was the male lead. Who cares? You know? He didn't sing and have back up dancers!
So I was tremendously disturbed to watch Shampoo a few nights ago, and discover that in 1975 Warren Beatty was hot! I've just seen him in the tabloids every now and then, and you'd have no idea that he was once a total, coiffed fox with tight jeans! Damn! If my hairdresser were that hot, I'd have much shorter hair. Good thing the guy who cuts my hair is stocky, pale, and gay.
SPOILER BELOW FOR SHAMPOO
Talk about weird sexual dynamics in the 1970s! Good Lord, they weren't kidding. And I didn't get my information from I Love the 70s or any other VH-1 special. My version of the 70s is informed by:
1. Spike Lee's movie Summer of Sam
2. Feminist Theory
3. Woody Allen
4. My Best of the 70s music compilation
5. Just imagining what could have gone on in between the 60s and the 80s.
I was so very satisfied that he didn't win the girl in the end, I can't even tell you. Goldie Hawn went off to Egypt, where she'd need a team of bodyguards unless she stopped wearing those uber-mini skirts. The other chick went off with the married guy (what about his wife and daughter? Nevermind them! It's 1975*!). Poor Mr. Beatty had to walk down off the plateau by himself; we can only hope he didn't chaffe.
*It was, however, set in 1968.