Why I’m in the Tracy Turnblad Fan Club

I know we finished the surprising not-obviously-feminist-films-we-love series a while back, but I just watched Hairspray again and had such a familiar rush of affection I thought it was time to put pen to paper. Fingers to keyboard. You know what I mean.

I’ve never seen the more recent musical film version because I love the original so much, but I’d be interested to hear what BadReppers think of it. If you’ve not seen the real thing, here’s the trailer:

Made in 1988 by the incomparable John Waters, it’s set in 1962 Baltimore. IMDb says:

‘Pleasantly Plump’ teenager Tracy Turnblad achieves her dream of becoming a regular on the Corny Collins Dance Show. Now a teen hero, she starts using her fame to speak out for the causes she believes in, most of all integration. In doing so, she earns the wrath of the show’s former star, Amber Von Tussle, as well as Amber’s manipulative, pro-segregation parents. The rivalry comes to a head as Amber and Tracy vie for the title of Miss Auto Show 1963.

But that doesn’t really cover it. It’s a delirious, high-camp, queer, irreverent and satirical version of the early 60s that shows Dirty Dancing up as the insipid whitewashed pap that it is. (Sorry, but you know I’m speaking the truth.) Tracy Turnblad, played by Ricki Lake, is a heroine and a half. Big, happy, confident, working class Tracy has a lot of soul and a keen sense of justice. She wins the day, the guy, and the hearts of the town because she can dance, because she’s nice and because she stands up for what she believes in. In this case: civil rights.

What is so refreshing to see even now (perhaps especially now) is a large teenage female character who radiates energy and self-confidence. She’s not a sidekick, she’s the star through and through, and the Elvis-a-like heartthrob falls head over heels for her, as does everyone else. When she dances in triumph with her chain of friends at the end of the film I DEFY YOU not to be cheering her on.

I love her for some of the same reasons I love Mae West in, well, all her films (she basically plays the same character every time). She’s larger and older than her counterpart spindly 1930s starlets, but in every film the men follow her around with their jaws bumping on the floor. It simultaneously surprises me and makes me think ‘why the hell not?’ She wrote the scripts, anyway – why not cast herself as a sex symbol? She was a sex symbol. We’re faced with such a tidal wave of body propaganda it’s easy to internalise it. Here’s a gratuitous embed of the trailer to West’s 1933 film I’m No Angel:

Anyway, back to the 80s/60s/whatever planet John Waters comes from. Another thing I love about Hairspray is the fabulous supporting cast of characters. Divine as Tracy’s mother Edna steals every scene she’s in, but I also love Tracy’s best friend Penny (Leslie Ann Powers) who seems pretty drippy until she meets kind, dishy Seaweed, son of local soul queen Motormouth Mabel. It’s actually quiet Penny Pingleton that starts shouting ‘segregation never, integration now!’ outside the Corny Collins Show. Penny and Tracy are touchingly devoted to each other too, encouraging each other and enjoying each other’s happiness. Plus bitchy Amber von Tussle and her snobbish, racist parents (her mother is played by Debbie Harry) are deliciously hateable.

The film is not without its flaws and it definitely won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but I love it. It’s the only film (I think…) that I’ve ever watched and put on again straight away, though admittedly that’s partly because of the superb soundtrack, which features Lesley Gore’s irresistible anthem You Don’t Own Me. Here it is!