That this film is not very good is something I remember quite clearly from the various times I have seen some or all of it in the years since its release. That it is sexist and racist is something I didn't understand before, since the film came out when I was all of eight years old and didn't know much about such things. That it is an utterly preposterous piece of Reagan-era bootstrapping propaganda was the real surprise for me. A bunch of my friends got together recently for "80s Night," where we rented bad 80s movies that some or all of us had actually not seen before. We looked for wine coolers, but that seems to have been a phenomenon that didn't make it. They probably would have helped.

Alex (Jennifer Beals) is an 18-year-old welder who has artistic aspirations. She moonlights as a dancer at an odd kind of strip club, where nobody takes their clothes off and everybody does weird interpretive dances, but what she really wants to do is dance at the Pittsburgh ballet conservatory. You see, she has never taken a ballet lesson, but she learned how to dance from reading books and watching ballet. Her life is pretty simple: weld, wander around the apartment in skimpy outfits or baggy sweatshirts that nearly reveal all of her secrets, walk her so-ugly-he's-cute dog, and do artistic dances, fully clothed, to songs her audience should rightfully hate. Life is good.

Things are complicated when her boss (Michael Nouri, another who didn't survive the 80s) decides that his female employees are a fine dating pool. Since Alex is the only one, he starts stalking her. Now I understand that this is pre-sexual harrassment, or at least pre-big deal about sexual harrassment, but this is a little much even for the time. He follows her home, slowly, creeping along behind her in his flashy car as she rides her bike. Later in the film he breaks into her apartment and kidnaps her dog, but no matter. He is also approximately twice her age. None of this matters, though. He just has to convince her that his love is true, and barring that, I guess he could threaten to fire her if she doesn't date him. Oh, wait. He does that too.

There are subplots. Richie (Kyle Heffner), a cook in the bar where she dances, wants to be a standup comedian. He tells jokes about Polish people (remember those?) and lesbians. He's not very good. Jeanie (Sunny Johnson), one of the waitresses at the bar, wants to be a professional ice skater, but setbacks on and off the ice might lead her down the path to ruin, in this film represented by the sleazy bar where the dancers take their clothes off. Alex's aged friend Hannah (Lilia Skala), who is the kind of character in these movies who exists only to encourage and then die, prompts Alex to try out for the ballet. Who is she, and how is she connected to this beautiful and vacant young welder?

The cinematography consists mainly of overly dark interiors with lighting so moody that you can't see anyone's face, interspersed with shots of Alex's pumping legs, firm buttocks, flat stomach, glistening hair, and ample breasts. All of these body parts, except for the hair, I guess, actually belong to professional dancer Marine Jahan. You see, Jennifer Beals cannot dance. We see closeups of her face as she appears to be engaged in some kind of cardiovascular activity (jumping rope?), but most of the long shots and actual dancing were Jahan. Watch closely: even the hair is different. Why they made a movie about a young woman with aspirations to be a dancer without hiring someone who can dance is a mystery to me. They didn't cast Beals for her acting ability; most of the time she looks like she's reading cue cards. The Oscar-winning title song was sung by Irene Cara, who proved in 1980's Fame that she can act and dance. Why not cast her?

Speaking of that song, it is one of a couple good ones. In fact, one of the few remaining reasons to watch this film is its time capsule of early 80s pop. Alongside such gems as Michael Sembello's "Maniac," which set my older sister dancing when the film first came out, are forgettable numbers like "He's a Dream," which I can't seem to get out of my head despite several days of trying, and "Lady, Lady, Lady" and "Seduce Me Tonight." Afficianados of bad top 40, you know who you are because you are now humming these songs to yourself.

The most annoying thing about the film, though, is its preposterous American bootstrap mythology, which is taken to a ridiculous degree. Sure, we were all taught in grade school that if you work hard enough and want something badly enough, you can achieve it. As we get older we discover that things don't always work that way, but that's beside the point. In this film, we are presented with a young woman who wants to be a ballerina so badly she can taste it. She doesn't take ballet classes, though. No, that would be too, what, too easy? No, she reads books and watches others dance, which we all know is the best way to learn how to do something as incredibly difficult and time-consuming as ballet. On this basis, I think I am going to go practice law, since I have watched enough courtroom dramas and read a few John Grisham novels. Or maybe I'll try brain surgery... There is a reason that ballerinas start out as children: because it takes that long to get really good at it. Despite her utter lack of experience and the fact that, during her famous audition scene, she does just about everything except ballet (you'd think you'd have to do ballet to get into a ballet school, right?), we are led to believe, by the toe-tapping conservative judges, that she gets in. Dear lord, I can take a lot of hokum in movies, but this takes the cake.