Distorted Hindsight

REMEMBER THOSE fabulous '50s?" Chubby Checkers keeps asking on late night T.V. "Remember the music? The drive-ins? Your first prom?" The King of the Twist takes a long look around the mocked-up malt shop and gives a wistful smile, "Well, now you can relive those fabulous '50s."

Those fabulous '50s. That one little phrase condenses an entire decade's worth of events into the stuff of popular memory. Visions of fun come to mind when you hear that phrase. Fun at the hop, fun at the local hamburger joint, fun at the beach with Annette Funicello. Just plain old good times as America enjoyed peace and prosperity. Even Ike, the first dad-president, could spend his time playing golf. Nothing seemed too serious. Letter sweaters and class rings were the concerns of the day, as swarms of teenage boys tried to make out with reluctant gum-chewing teenage girls. Considering, though, that these "fabulous '50s" turned into the "turbulent '60s," it would seem that America suddenly woke up one morning and instead of finding a crew-cut Richie Cunningham on its doorstep, found Abbie Hoffman and a whole lot of trouble.

Of course, that's not quite the way it happened. The danger in reducing an entire decade into popular stereotypes is that all but the superficial aspects of the time get lost. Granted, the '50s were an affluent and relatively peaceful time in this country, but that peace and affluence brought with it a very conservative outlook. America had stemmed the tide of fascism, we had the bomb (and so did they), for the first time there was security and prosperity, and that brought with it commitment to the status quo. One didn't tamper with success, and as America had accomplished more than any other country on earth, to question what was happening in this country was to question the American Dream, to be an ingrate. Eisenhower himself said that the greatest problem facing America in the '50s was finding that middle road and sticking to it. Those who sought other alternatives were somehow considered to be suspicious characters.

And yet, this merrily repressive time was not going to last for long, and there were some hints, even in those days, that things were going to change. The questioning, anti-social youth hero who became so prevalent in the '60s was an outgrowth of the discontent that the structured '50s produced, especially among the younger people in the country. Rock and Roll emerged; for the first time black music and white music tentatively merged, a synthesis that gained tremendous popularity. The movies too, began to show some shift in outlook among the kids growing up in America. The confused, "unrespectable" heros portrayed on the screen by Dean and Brando were slowly becoming more admired than the incredibly cute, sweet, and superficial characters who inhabited the numberless Doris Day-type movies. Brando and Dean showed that there were some real problems in this country, that the closed society was leaving out many people who just couldn't fit in. Brando's violent portrayals, acting with his body more than with his lines, appeared primitive to many. They were not sophisticated, but they were powerful, and the popularity such films achieved were some hint that things would perhaps move in a different direction.

And yet this side of the '50s is rarely seen. There is an oft-noted penchant in movies and television to reduce anything to its lowest common denominator, to distill decades and historical figures down to a catchy phrase that will fit easily into the TV Guide or a 20-second movie promotion. Movies such as The Buddy Holly Story, Grease, American Graffiti and its television spin off "Happy Days" all invite us into a jolly stroll down memory lane. But this is a terribly selective memory. In American Graffiti the world revolves around cruisin' and high school romances, with the biggest problem being what one will do with one's sweetheart and car when you head off to college. John Travolta greases back his hair and dances his way into our hearts, a tough guy who is basically a hopeless romantic. Certainly he is a bit insensitive, but it's nothing the heart of a good woman can't cure. Even in The Buddy Holly Story, which tries to trace the emergence of Rock and Roll, the whole thing comes off as some sort of apple pie success story, ignoring the problems involved in fusing two very different worlds through music. Even Holly's end is treated like some sort of apple-pie tragedy, a pity to be sure, but easily gotten over and sighed at. And all of these stereotypes are quickly becoming the most common surviving keynotes of that era.

LEAVING OUT ANY of the undercurrents of unrest that were present in the country, we are supposed to see, in our ignorance, that the '50s were bliss. But if you simply look at some of the stranger, not-so-cutsey offbeat things that were occuring in this country, you can see that these undercurrents were very strong, heralding whirlpools ahead. One of the best examples of this is the strange phenomenon of James Dean. Dean, who has survived in a few cryptic songs and three movies, does not seem to have made of an impact on the collective memory of the '50s, but at the time his impact on a generation of people growing up in America was quite strong. Like Brando, Dean's characters were vaguely discontented with the way things were in this country. But Dean spoke more specifically to the problems that adolescents faced in this country. In a nation where adolescence was seen as a peaceful prelude to adulthood and respectability. Dean's characters seemed to be saying that it was okay to be confused and angry growing up in America; and that the problems that adolescents confronted were as real as any problems facing the parents in the country. This view certainly seems naive these days, with the shift in emphasis in this country becoming increasingly youth-oriented over the past twenty years, but at the time Dean's portrayals were revolutionary.

Those who identified with Dean, therefore, did so very strongly, a minority cult whose time had not yet come. The fact that Dean died in a motorcycle crash at the age of 24, only served to intensify the cult of Dean. He began to be looked at as some sort of prophet rather than simply an actor; someone who had he lived would have not only portrayed, but solved many of the problems. People tried to get in touch with Dean's spirit; there were rumors that Dean was not really dead, but would one day return; red James Dean jackets became the standard dress of the Dean cultists and in many countries around the world his best film, "Rebel Without a Cause," was banned because of the stir it was causing among its young audience. Even in the mid-'70s, when a whole slew of Dean biographies appeared, many of them are still remarkably mystical. Dean's acting ability is debatable, his recognition as a prophet is certainly dismissable, but the effects he had are undeniable, and clearly he was tapping some of the pockets of unrest which the rigid fifties were producing.

OF COURSE the unrest, the problems, the strange ways in which dissatisfaction was expressed, all get lost when one simply looks on the '50s as those hilarious days of yore. Such a view is perhaps forgiveable in musicals and comedies, but even serious movies such as "Buddy Holly" and more recently September 30, 1955 fall prey to this distillation process. September 30, 1955 is without a doubt the worst example of this trend. It is also one of the worst movies, regardless of its theme, to come out in the last year. In this movie, James Bridges (director of "Paper Chase") takes a look at the day James Dean died in order to explore the cult that grew up around him. It is a fascinating idea for a film, and there was a glimmer of hope that a side of the '50s which is hardly ever seen in films might actually be explored. But Bridges constantly refuses to take the Dean cultists seriously. The film follows a college student on the day Dean died, follows him through his torment over Dean's death which eventually leads him to leave school and his superficial friends. But on the way Bridges seems to keep insisting that, hey, didn't these people act foolish--he focuses on the superficial actions of the characters. His main character expresses his torment by driving to a river, covering himself with dirt, and holding a seance complete with an Academy Award made of mud. His idiocy is completed when he takes a dog's barking as a sign from Dean. Of course the actions of the Dean cultists were not very bright; they were all naive, and in light of the last twenty years, they really do look foolish. But the emotion they felt over Dean's death, the problems they were facing which led them to look up to Dean, these things were really felt. No matter how foolish the avenues for these kids' discontent may have been, the unrest they felt was genuine; but Bridges can never seem to get past the superficial. Popular memory prevails, even movies such as this.

And so Hollywood keeps churning out '50s movies, almost guaranteed successes, which don't have much of any connection to the actual decade. Chubby Checker still plugs the hits he made 25 years ago, and the new Mickey Mouse Club has a whole new generation of Mousketeers on the march. There is something rather pathetic inherent in nostalgia--that yearning for the good old days that never really existed--and especially in the media-contrived instant nostalgia which is constantly being produced in this country. Things are hardly gone before they're immortalized, distilled and stereotyped. If that doesn't produce results, then you simply dredge up heroes from the past.

Directors and television producers are always quick to defend all this by saying that they simply produce what the American people want. But they are also teaching a lot of people how things were. A strange cycle develops, with fond memories becoming part of the collective memory of an era, until all that is left of such an era are these one-sided memories. It's rather sad to watch movies in which present day movie stars yearn for the good old days, when "the movies really meant something." It is the same sadness you get when you hear the formula-rock and roll bands eulogizing how the original music is. But as anyone who saw Elvis grow old and ridiculous on the cover of countless magazines already knows, the media in this country can hardly ever be accused of seeking new directions or even of good taste. For the movies and television seem to have had remarkable success in sticking to the Eisenhower mentality--taking the straight and narrow path down the middle.