As the cycle of nostalgia used to go (before the present generation became more captivated by the immediate past [e.g. 2012]), people tended to “rediscover” pop culture from two decades prior. So it was that the 1980s frequently showed signs of appreciation for the 1960s, perhaps most especially with the filmic use of Aretha Franklin’s “Respect” in such major movies as Desperately Seeking Susan, Mystic Pizza and St. Elmo’s Fire.
Apart from the lust for a “better time” that was the 60s (rife with Cold War commie witch hunt runoff from the 50s as it was), the sudden prevalence of the instant classic also stemmed from a resurgence of feminism–an essential need for women to declare once more: respect me, motherfucker. It was also telling that The Blues Brothers came out at the very beginning of the decade, with Aretha in a brief but memorable role as Mrs. Murphy singing “Think” at the diner she works in only to, after all that earnestness and forewarning, have her man leave her in the dust with the Blues Brothers anyway. As something of a thesis statement for the initiation of a fraught ten years which saw the reemergence of the same conservatism present in the early 1960s that ended up bringing about the radical change of the late 1960s, so saturated in “militant” feminism as it was, “Think” seemed to pave the way for women to reassess their priorities and take notice once more of a song as hermeneutic as “Respect.” Thanks to the Reagans (possibly Nancy most of all), a reversion to the old, “foolproof” model of heteronormativity was touted with more grandiosity amid the AIDS epidemic. That being said, the very dissatisfaction women had with this model arose from the total lack of quid pro quo benefit in a relationship–despite it being a woman’s “duty” to get married.
In the romantic woman’s mind, however, the tradeoff for oppression ought to at least be “loving” treatment–you know, gentle words, kind caresses, etc. Ergo the forceful yet laden with tragic emotionalism of “Respect” served (and serves) as the perfect anthem for a woman both trying to reclaim her power while still somehow deluding herself into thinking that a monogamous relationship would ever allow her the capacity for such a thing.
Considering that the song is told from the perspective of a neglected wife or girlfriend (reworked, naturally, from the original Otis Redding version), it bears repeating that while “Respect” was an ideal anthem for females seeking to feel empowered once more in the 80s, it is still very much a track centered on the foundation of tradition and expected social mores.
In Joel Schumacher’s softer side to The Lost Boys, St. Elmo’s Fire, we see a rare exception to the 80s rule of employing the song for a woman’s moment of freedom from emotional abuse. This time it’s Andrew McCarthy as Kevin Dolenz, caught in a love triangle with friends Leslie (Ally Sheedy) and Alec (Judd Nelson), as he soothes his tortured soul over the notion of constantly being second fiddle with this particular song.
Conversely, Susan Seidelman’s 80s masterpiece of screwball comedy, Desperately Seeking Susan, wields the cut in such a way as to play into the true heroine of the narrative’s, Roberta (Rosanna Arquette), desire to bust loose from the shackles of her New Jersey housewifery. To announce to her inattentive and philandering husband that she is free, and deserves better. Or at least a life as interesting as Susan’s (Madonna), as she follows her into a second-hand store called Love Saves the Day to the tune of this ditty.
Mystic Pizza, arguably still Julia Roberts’ best acting work, if we’re all being honest with ourselves, similarly constructs a scene around Daisy’s (Roberts) unquenchable rage against a man she assumes is cheating on her after he lies to her about his whereabouts. Driving through town with her sister and best friend with a barrel of fish in the back of the truck, there is no more iconic scene from the movie than this, as Daisy sings, “Re-re-re-re-re” along with Aretha, the woman responsible for helping so many legions of women both black and white (and even men as dainty and effete as Andrew McCarthy) tap once more into the immeasurable strength and dynamism they possess, now and forever–but most especially in the 1980s.
