Movies I Love, Part XVIII: Shampoo

Posted: March 10th, 2009 | Filed under: Cinema, Ruminations | No Comments »

Exactly when — and why — Hollywoodland ceased earnestly making movies about romance, sexual tension and the comedic drama that ensues when all that is in play remains a mystery.

My guess is it was sometime after 1975, when the Hal Ashby-directed “Shampoo” was released. They truly don’t make them like that anymore.

The film, dated, deliciously so, is set on election eve in 1968. The next day will mark the official beginning of the societal clash between the remnants of the counter culture — with its pop cultural, sexual, political, musical and herbal implications — and the Richard Nixon era. This flick shows that those conflicts were, frankly, already in place.

Warren Beatty has big hair and is the hot hairdresser in L A. He also is a victim of satyriasis. (He can’t stop shtupping his clients. Or any other hot babe he meets along the way.) His lovers include his live-in, Goldie Hawn, who is looking for commitment. Lee Grant — she won an Oscar for this role — who is married to a rich Republican, Jack Warden. Julie Christie, who also happens to be Goldie Hawn’s best pal. And is Jack Warden’s kept woman. And, to spice up this roundelay even more, Carrie Fisher, who is the daughter of Grant and Warden, balls Beatty just to get back at her mom whom she despises.

Beatty wants his own salon. He’s tired of shilling for an extra couple of bucks for coffee, when he’s raking in big bucks for his boss.

Beatty is harried. Here’a a great scene from early in the film:

This is a fellow for whom a comeuppance is almost certain. What is marvelous is how Beatty, who co-wrote the screenplay with the estimable Robert Towne, gets us there.

The tale is told in 24 hours. Yet we know and feel the unique time and place. A longer continuim isn’t necessary. That’s part of the brilliance of the scenario.

This is arguably Warren Beatty’s best performance. It’s pitch perfect. Despite his incredible good looks, and sense of charm, he never recoiled from playing the fool, or a less than likeable character.

The music — Hendrix, Simon & Garfunkel, et al — dates the film. But, so what, it’s great to hear it in context.

There’s a genius juxtaposition between a gathering of Republicans, celebrating Nixon’s election, and let’s have a party sybarites at a Hollywood manse. The GOPers are tuxedoed and for the evening’s entertainment listen to a Native American pol chant while they fidget in their seats. The party hearty crowd drops acid, smokes pot, dances and skinny dips.

All the while, Beatty’s character’s world is unraveling. While those around him find some ballast. If not enough to sustain them forever, it at least is enough to get them through the day.

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