There’s a particular genre of movies that I struggle to name, but have become increasingly enamored with over the past few weeks — that weird brand of 1970s (and late ’60s, in one case) rock opera that is at once overblown and theatrically outrageous and also utterly possessed of its own importance and making with the societal pronouncements like they’re going out of fashion.
I’ve written before, more than once, about my love of Head, the Monkees’ highpoint from the late ’60s, and I’m pretty sure I’ve shared my affection for Beyond the Valley of the Dolls around these here parts, as well. (If I haven’t: I’d argue that it’s not only Russ Meyer’s best movie — heresy, I know — but also one of the best movies about the culture gap between straights and freaks in the middle of the 20th century, bar none.) But there are more than those movies: in the past week or so, I’ve watched Xanadu, The Phantom of the Paradise (a true classic), and The Apple, all three of which are variations on the same idea, in some way.
The Apple and Xanadu feel like two different endpoints for this genre, which essentially died a death when both of these movies bombed at the box office. Xanadu is this genre as upbeat, hopeful, optimistic thing with almost no real threat or darkness throughout the entire movie, unless you count the fact that Gene Kelly effortlessly out-charms the rest of the cast without breaking a sweat to be a sign that the future is doomed; The Apple, meanwhile, is a sprawling, messy parody of pop culture devotion and corruption that has to be seen to be believed — think The Rocky Horror Picture Show if it decided to really go for it, and something far more cynical (and, arguably, more realistic, despite a finish that can’t be described).
Rewatching all of these movies, I find myself even more distraught that very little today has the same… lack of giving a fuck, perhaps? Or energy, to be more polite about it. I want to see someone convince Taylor Swift to just go for it and create a ridiculous, unapologetic pop opera about how fucked up everything around her is. I want to see Beyonce do her own version of Swarm but it’s actually a musical with big fuck-off production numbers. I want to see things get less boring, just a little bit.