Footloose raises essential questions about the power many religious figures wield to impose rules that, more often than not, reflect their own unresolved and hidden issues. Dance isn’t an immoral act; it’s a gift.
It’s the film that launched Kevin Bacon into the stratosphere, the soundtrack that is a must-own album, and a movie with an ending that leaves your heart full of joy. Herbert Ross’ Footloose was a box office smash despite being mauled by more than a few critics in 1984, and it’s easy to see why as Kevin Bacon taps his feet and shakes his hips in skin-tight denim against a Midwest American backdrop and a score of ’80s pop bangers.
However, underneath the denim and dance, Footloose is a story about community, censorship, oppression and unresolved grief. It’s the story of how adults, religious groups and communities often choose to blame art, film and music for the apparent problematic behaviours of their kids, while allowing adult sins to fester out of sight. Even more surprising is that this tale of an insular, religious small town where dancing was illegal was based on the real-life story of Elmore City, Oklahoma. Home to less than 1,000 people, Elmore was a dance-free town until 1980! For 95 years, the town believed that “no good ever came from dance,” until a group of young people finally stood up and said, “Why?”
Originally titled “Cheek to Cheek”, writer Dean Pitchford would take the Elmore City story and mould it into a modern pop musical, one that would, in many ways, pave the way for Top Gun in 1986. As a result, it’s the music and the pop-video-inspired set pieces that many people remember from Footloose, from Kenny Loggins‘ signature track to Bonnie Tyler’s “Holding Out for a Hero” and Deniece Williams’ “Let’s Hear It for the Boy.”
But beneath the pop sits the tale of Rev Shaw Moore (John Lithgow), his wife Vi (Dianne Wiest) and daughter Ariel (Lori Singer), none of whom have ever recovered from the death of their son and brother in a tragic road accident. Following his son’s death, Rev Moore encouraged the town council to ban dance, a knee-jerk reaction that sought to apply blame for the accident on a party the kids were travelling home from when their car left a bridge. But when the out-of-town Ren McCormack (Kevin Bacon) arrives with his dancing feet and passion for music, Rev Moore and the town council face a challenge as Ren plans to hold a school dance not seen in the town since the tragic accident years before.
From ’50s debates about the corruption of rock n’ roll to ’60s conversations about the promiscuity of pop and ’80s fears of video nasties, public panic concerning the young often targets art. Frequently, these public outcries are based on nothing but hearsay, whispers, and press-induced outrage, serving as a shield for conversations about the real horrors of our human world.
For example, while the Catholic Church encouraged its followers to worry about condoms becoming the norm, countless children were abused behind closed doors. At the same time, while violent men beat up their wives with no fear of repercussion, society was encouraged to worry about the gay men who might convert innocent boys to their demonic and effeminate ways. Public panic and moral outcry have always, and will always be, a tool to divert attention from society’s real problems, using minority groups, young people and the powerless as scapegoats. Footloose beautifully and powerfully portrays this truth. In this small Midwestern town, some young men call those who don’t fit their hyper-masculine mould “faggots” and hit their girlfriends freely, while the town worries about dance!
Like Pastor Skip in Brian Dannelly’s Saved! (2004) Lithgow’s Rev isn’t a bad man; he is an adult who hasn’t dealt with his own shit and uses religion as a tool of control to make himself feel better. His unresolved grief is something everyone must suffer until he realises that this misuse of power often leaves others free to implement their own misguided rules. In a pivotal scene, Moore sees townfolk burning books they believe could corrupt the young, just as dance does. This raises a moral question: if the good Rev believes dance should be banned, then surely words, pages, and thoughts can be removed as well to maintain order. At this point, Moore knows he has gone too far, allowing Ren’s dance to proceed as his own healing journey finally begins.
Footloose raises essential questions about the power many religious figures wield to impose rules that, more often than not, reflect their own unresolved and hidden issues. Dance isn’t an immoral act; it’s a gift. Footloose is an early ’80s gift that many mistakenly dismiss as a mere musical jukebox movie, missing the point of its essential messages about control versus freedom and inhibition versus freedom of expression.
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