If you went out to see this glittery musical fluffball in 1980, you might have been in an empty theater. It’s one of the legendary bombs of its time.
Nobody cared about Olivia Newton-John as a mythical Greek muse come to life to fall in love with the guy from The Warriors. The neon fantasy-land special effects didn’t catch enough eyes to put this over the top. The hit soundtrack album didn’t drag enough ears out to the movies. And the prospect of seeing the great Gene Kelly, 68 years old, in his final acting role and a reliably professional presence, get in one last dance didn’t move the needle at all for the young girls who should have been the target crowd.
The makers of this film thought they were making something light and fluffy, an airy homage to classic musicals in a modern setting full of songs and pretty people and delicious yearning, but they were really making an anvil that sunk the careers of all involved.
On the bright side, this has aged as a genuine kitsch classic. Every time someone writes about how awful it is, fifty people become more curious to see it. It’s the movie equivalent to one of those records that you always see in the thrift store bins. You ignore it forever until you finally listen to it and, even if you don’t like it, you have a grudging respect for how long it’s lasted, floating around out there, a regular sighting, a common reference, a germ that nothing can kill.
See this in a theater today (as I recently did) and don’t be surprised if the crowd is bigger than you were expecting and if they sing along with the catchiest songs, clap after every musical interlude and laugh with affection at every oh-so-1980 detail, such as the many rollerskating scenes. It’s enough fun to make you like this, even though it sucks.