It’s been a common trope for such an interminable eon that, even now, we scarcely “overthink” it. View the requisite female makeover of any rom-com, musical comedy or even drama as just another part of “what needs to happen” per the dictates of the three-act structure governing this particular genre. It occurred long before (see: Now, Voyager, more drama than rom-com) Grease and persisted long after (see: The Princess Diaries, Miss Congeniality or essentially any 00s rom-com). And it will probably continue to manifest in some form or other despite a purported post-#MeToo wokeness that remains mired in patriarchy. But never was it so crystallized in the collective mind as it was in Grease, the 1978 Randal Kleisner-directed vehicle that truly cemented Olivia Newton-John as an international star.
And yet, to secure that stardom, Newton-John had to capitulate to a certain “reverse My Fair Lady” aesthetic by the final scenes. Opting to become the flipside male fantasy of “crude,” therefore “fuckable” as opposed to “defileable.” Shedding her “prim and polished” aura for one that would not only “please” Danny Zuko (John Travolta), but also show him that she was no longer a square (or, by the more cut-and-dried male estimation, a “frigid bitch”). Prove that she had studied and learned from the loose California ways of the Pink Ladies, and now knew how to implement them for herself in a manner that could titillate just as much, if not more. That Sandy should choose to surrender to this persona right as high school was ending, however, seemed like something of a waste, for everyone knows that going off to college is the perfect time to be whoever you want to be. That there’s never a better moment in one’s youth to cease worrying about the requisite conformity needed to “survive” high school and come out the other side of it relatively unscathed.
There will, of course, be arguments that Sandy was merely “owning herself” at last by asking Frenchy (Didi Conn) for a makeover of her own volition. Securing the “confidence” required to become the leather mommy greaser she was always destined to be (even if opting for that style just as it was falling out of fashion at the end of the 1950s). And even Olivia Newton-John continued to present the look from Grease’s cornball conclusion for the album that would follow, Totally Hot (a totally 80s title for 1978).
There are others who might point out that Danny “at least” tried to give himself his own “makeover” by simply donning a letterman sweater as a display of “hopeless devotion” to Sandy beneath all his false bravado. Yet that half-baked attempt hardly equates with the work and effort Sandy put in to cultivate her new look. The hair-pulling and teasing, the concession to giving her lungs over to smoking, the organ-crushing of tight leather (or pleather) pants and the inevitable foot problems from those thin high heels supporting a red platform. What’s more, as soon as he sees Sandy in her new, “more desirable” incarnation, he’s quick to rip off the sweater and admit that viewing her in this “Version 2.0” form is enough to “electrify” him to the point where he would burst into song and declare, “I’ve got chills/They’re multiplying/And I’m losing control.” Translation: “I’m getting an erection now that I’ve seen you the way I always wanted you to be and we should leave the carnival tout de suite to bone… now that you’re clearly down to.”
While Sandy then chimes in with her own verse about, “You better shape up, ‘cause I need a man,” it’s apparent that she’s the only one who has done any “shaping up”—both physically and “mentally,” as she has presently molded herself into Danny’s version of the “ideal” woman. Such self-compromise being, as most “relationship experts” know, a sure sign of trouble down the road. Like, what’s Danny going to want Sandy to alter into next when he gets tired of the vixen/vamp trope she so easily catered to in the end? The answer likely being “nothing” because he’ll have moved on to some younger model of “Sandy 2” anyway. One that he didn’t have to “deprogram” from being virginal in the first place.
Then there was the ripple effect that “Bad Sandy,” as someone like Mariah Carey refers to her (adopting that type of “bad” alter ego for herself via “Bianca,” who first appeared in the music video for “Heartbreaker”), had on the girls who idolized her over “Good Sandy,” preferring the former for their Halloween costumes to the “mousy,” “plain” and “boring” version of her. One that Rizzo (Stockard Channing) also mocked endlessly with lyrics like, “Look at me/I’m Sandra Dee/Lousy with virginity/Won’t go to bed till I’m legally wed I can’t, I’m Sandra Dee!”
Parodying “Good Sandy” for being like the virtuous movie star Sandra Dee represented in the 50s, Rizzo is the quintessential “bad girl” who actually feels threatened by Sandy still remaining so pure because she’s afraid it makes her come across as even more “evil” somehow. “Fast and loose,” as someone from the 50s might say. But to characterize a girl as “bad” merely because she dresses a particular way and is more forthcoming with expressing her desires is precisely the result of women internalizing the misogyny that has been directed at them since time immemorial.
All of this is to say that while Grease is an iconic, “fun-loving” and “harmless” film—featuring what is objectively Olivia Newton-John’s greatest, most memorable role—it ultimately serves to reinforce the message that girls have been indoctrinated with since the boomer youth era that the movie depicts. Which is: if you want to “land a man,” you must “be what he wants you to be.” That is the “divine feminine” task that has been reemphasized repeatedly in popular culture. The great “female ability” to embody the shapeshifting nature that makes her “likable” to such a wide array of men before her cast-out net finally ensnares one that she can fully appeal to. But only as either a Madonna or whore. Sandy, ostensibly, decided to make the latter image work to her advantage in “securing” Danny.
