Every so often, a particular phenomenon transcends its time and lives nostalgically in the collective consciousness for decades.
I remember one particular introduction to a pop culture sensation from this immortal zeitgeist as the first time I had any real clarity about the generational gaps in perception. I was just approaching my teen years, and on this specific night, my parents were securing my erudition of mass media, which was born in their era. As a family, we sat down and watched the cinematic splendour that is Grease.
My reaction could not have been further from that of my parents. I did not deny what a fun experience the film presented through its lens of teenage ethnology. But though I thoroughly bought into the sentiment of the late 70s reminiscing the 50s, and bopped along to the unquestionably catchy soundtrack, the story left me stunned, appalled and with one thought: “That is a horrible message”.
This was years before I had any knowledge about the film industry, the male gaze, the influence of the media, etc. but even without this foundation of awareness to draw upon analytically, I knew in my being that the presentation of Danny, the apotheosized jock that besmirches and belittles a girl to impress his friends, and Sandy, the trivialized virgin-turned-temptress, had no place being romanticized as role models.
Of course, there is an argument that at the end of the film, Sandy is exonerated from her obligation to personify the idyllic girl-next-door stereotype that oppresses her, but this is a generous interpretation that defies the evidence presented throughout the entire film. As upsetting as it is to admit, Grease is more about the positive consequence of peer pressure and changing who you are for the sake of another person, than it is about slick hairstyles and thrilling high school experiences.
The movie catapulted my parents back to their youth, in a trance only broken when I turned to them after the credits and expressed my concern. The depiction of the sex and drugs aside (which made me question its appropriateness for someone my age on an entirely different set of parameters), why would they show me something so hegemonizing when I was at the most vulnerable and pivotal age to be adversely affected by it?
My distaste was beyond their comprehension and it took me pointing towards several examples in the film for them to understand the averse messaging. If not for my brother, only a year and change my senior, nodding in agreement, I may have doubted the connotations myself, simply due to the looks on their faces as they came to the realization. Right then, it became evident to me that I live in consciousness, observe experiences, and set my tolerance standards in a widely different manner than my parents’ generation.
This enlightenment may have been an opportunity for shame or disgust to creep into my stomach, but instead, I felt optimistic. I did not argue with my parents, I simply opened their eyes. My irrefutable examination of the film provided them with a new perspective, and I was confident, thanks to my brother, that this was a shared wakefulness amongst my burgeoning generation.
I had hope that my generation would protect each other from the type of visceral offence Sandy experienced. We could celebrate the delight while rebuking the faulty. We would be better than our precursors. Fast forward to 2025 and, regretfully, I find myself proven wrong.
Recently, my younger cousin, now a teen herself, came to me seeking advice about a boy that she liked. She had met him on vacation and spent two weeks with him, during which time he was attentive, respectful, and made her exceedingly happy. Upon returning from their sun holiday, she was informed by her best friend that, behind her back, this boy had been caught making claims to his friends about her willingness to engage in physical intimacy.
Beyond being a gross violation of the parameters of his sphere of scrutiny, the comments were derogatory, slanderous, and above all, a breach of her trust. Distraught, she asked me what she should do about this boy, who she really likes, who evidently shows no respect for her. Knowing there is no pleasing response to a romantic dilemma, I sympathetically imparted my insight about impertinent teenage boys and told her to walk away before she gets in too deep. But she liked him enough to consult more confidants until the answers skewed in unpropitious directions.
At first, her lack of encouragement to pursue a relationship grew louder. Many acquainted her with the red flags of the situation, and she agreed. But she really likes him. So she consulted her mom. Benevolent, her mom believes in second chances, but of the same generation as my parents, she offered my cousin the instruction: “watch Grease”.
Now, I am not of the opinion that my cousin’s crush is irredeemable- I have recounted my admiration for parts of Grease, despite its overt underlying directives and I share the same leniency towards someone who has the power to bring merriment to my dear cousin’s life. I am also keenly aware that he is still a child and am certain he will mature; I do not judge his future by the actions of his teenage self. However, I am also not blind to the parallels between this boy and Danny Zuko.
In fact, my cousin’s plot is shaping up to be fairly consistent with the first act of the film- to the extent that I understand where the advice to watch the film came to mind. But while I thought that the proposal to seek council from this antiquated film was a clever joke, it was meant, and taken, in earnestness. So much for my wise generation.
My cousin, intelligent, inquisitive, full of light and liberation, still really likes this pseudo-Danny. She has favoured with forgiveness and entered a relationship with him. She is incredibly happy; it breaks my heart.
The derivation of my heartbreak results from the fact that I could never wish for a source of joy to cease to be, especially when it is directed at someone I cherish so much. Another piece of the heartbreak is due to my intrapersonal conundrum that questions my own ideologies – am I born so jaded that I can’t extend absolution to a bemused adolescent? Have I been looking at Grease all wrong? But the principal cause of my broken heart is that I know he now has hers.
Anticipatory dread lives in every happy moment she shares with me, all because I know that I am forever helpless to shield my sweet cousin from the anguish of placing her trust in an untrustworthy man. I hope for the optimal scenario but am vigilant in preparation for the opposite. Simply, I love her more than any teenager could, and I want her to have the best. (…Is this what being a mom feels like?!)
So am I blaming Grease for the status of my cousin’s love life? While she could have avoided a turbulent and potentially toxic relationship if she hadn’t pulled a Sandy and stood by her man, I have little doubt that she wouldn’t have ended up in the same situation if Grease was never on the table. She’s a strong-willed young lady and she makes her own decisions.
This is not me excusing the messaging in the film, to be clear. However, My cousin’s life is not a film, as dramatic as it may be at times. While I may be jumping the gun on calling her relationship, “turbulent and potentially toxic”, the truth is, it has the potential to be many things. If toxic is one of them, that’s when this young man will be hearing from me.
Until my cousin teases her hair and squeezes into skin-tight leather- or gives me somewhat subtler signs of relationship woes- I will try my best to quiet my apprehension. She is not Sandy. She will be fine. Because, like me, she is still of the generation that can see the beauty and the downfalls of Grease.