Swayze and Sex: Foreplay in Road House Versus Dirty Dancing

Hungry eyes and sweaty guys! It's my birthday, let me talk about foreplay.

I recently watched the original Road House for the first time in light of the treacherous reviews of the remake. Yes, it does in fact, go hard as hell, but one scene has stuck with me. As the ever-beautiful Patrick Swayze picked up an equally stunning Kelly Lynch and pressed her against the exposed brick of his rural home, I was immediately struck… by the lack of foreplay. This narrative decision sent me into a spiral, unraveling a debate in my head only I, and maybe Hunter Harris, would be interested in: would Dalton, a character so hellbent on the ways of the body and control, not be passionate enough to indulge in foreplay? That was my initial thought, but upon further consideration, another very real possibility emerged. A  man so kickass as Dalton would obviously be ready to fuck at the drop of a hat, eager to get to the real action, the exercise of intercourse. I racked my brain, trying to figure out which was the right answer, to decide whether my first impulse that Road House had contradicted its lead’s characterization was valid. By God, where was the foreplay?!? Then it Red Dawn-ed on me. What I was grasping for was not Patrick Swayze in Road House at all, but instead Patrick Swayze in Dirty Dancing. 

Last Friday was my 23rd birthday. Another year of being insufferable! Since moving out for college, I’ve celebrated by showing my closest friends my favorite feel-good movies, the ones that are for the girls, if nobody else, and emphasizing ones that most of the group hadn't seen. 20 was My Best’s Wedding, 21 was 13 Going On 30, and 22 was Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle. Alas, having moved back home, I won't be turning 23 in the same city, so when I paid them a visit a couple of weeks ago, I told them there was a movie I was dying to show them: 1987’s Dirty Dancing. No one in the room, except for my best friend’s girlfriend, who is also a film major, had seen the movie. We were in for a treat. What ensued was 1hr and 37 minutes of unapologetic horniness, on and off the screen. 

You know that feeling when you wake up from a dream, and you spend the whole day still attached to that fantasy world? It’s within you, barring you from settling into reality as you stay yearning to go back, to close your eyes and rejoin. That’s how I felt rewatching Dirty Dancing. As silly as some might find this, it was a special sensation (not even that kind) that is so warm and fuzzy (no, still not that kind, but I’m getting there) that feels hard to leave behind. Patrick Swayze, rest his soul, is a major reason behind that feeling.

His sex appeal is no secret, but it is his charm, his vulnerability, and every other wonderful thing said about him that stays with you, too. What he offers in Dirty Dancing, perfectly opposite Jennifer Grey, is, yet simultaneously supersedes, sex. The film follows Baby (Grey), a girl on the precipice of wealthy young adulthood. Taking place over a summer in the Catskills, Baby is quickly intrigued by the black sheep of the resort: the entertainment crew. Cue Johnny Castle (Swayze) and Penny Johnson (Cynthia Rhodes), two tall, fit, beautiful people in perfect, sexy sync with one another. Baby watches them sway and glide across the dance floor; in fact, one of the most important cinematic qualities of the film is what and how Baby watches. The camera stands witness to her desire, and these moments all boil down to the moment she makes the first physical move on Johnny. 

Dirty Dancing is obviously pro-foreplay. Every stretch and stride against the person of the opposite sex induces sexual stimulation in those who watch and partake (if they so choose). Multiple times, Johnny and Penny express they are just friends. So, when the film pivots to follow Baby and Johnny’s relationship, a new layer of anticipation emerges. Johnny doesn’t really like Baby; he does not trust another rich girl looking to find herself through the impoverished people who labor to entertain her. In chronicling this Lite “enemies” to lovers affair, Dirty Dancing not only explores dancing as a form of foreplay but also learning to dance as emotional foreplay.

Lust on screen is one of the most powerful things to witness, yet it's not the form of physicality Road House chooses to concentrate on. Dalton is a prime-time “cooler,” which is cuntier than a bouncer. He’s recruited to come clean up a dive bar in Missouri, and fist-fights are his second language, and apparently his love language, too, considering how quickly he skips straight to penetration. Released 2 years after Dirty Dancing, it is titillating to see Swayze inhabit a more mature and violent character, and ironically, Dalton and his love interest Elizabeth do “dance” before making love. But, this dance is irrelevant, lacking poetry and instead just an excuse to make intense eye contact and lead your partner to spread their legs. Though it is hot, it is not steamy, and I quickly realized you don’t watch Road House for the heterosexual passion; you watch it for the masculine, sometimes homoerotic, passion. I think what Road House fails to offer in terms of a fully-fleshed and tantalizing heterosexual relationship that you still end up rooting for, it offers in the camaraderie of community and justified violence. It substitutes lust for love with lust for revenge, and that’s all fine and dandy, but it does leave Elizabeth and Dalton’s relationship as the least interesting part of the story. 

Meanwhile, Baby and Johnny’s physicality, even when it excludes the context of sex, still captures an intimacy Road House lacks. Think Johnny hugging Baby, who stands above him on a porch after he beats up another guy who deserves it. Sounds like Dalton! And it’s because Dirty Dancing centers both peoples’ yearning equally, using touch and language to inform their relationship that you leave caked in sweat.

The sex in Road House didn’t leave me riled up, even if it is more explicit or rough than Dirty Dancing. The film is sleazy in an alluring and fascinating way, and it’s interesting to track where Dalton and Elizabeth reside in relation to the sleaze. Road House does sort of posture the couple above the sleaze, but that is through Elizabeth individually. She was married to the symbol of the sleaze, town dictator Brad Wesley, but left him and is a doctor. Yet her being with Dalton is not a transcendence of this sleazy town we are meant to sympathize with. Though Dalton is a “hero,” he is a killer, and the film does not want to paint him as some nice guy, nor do they want Elizabeth to believe he is either, even if he is ultimately vindicated for not being the one to kill the main guy. Road House is obviously interested in being sexy; the last shot of our protagonist is him skinny dipping in broad daylight with Elizabeth, after all. But quite simply, the bodies we remember from Road House are not theirs, it’s that of the men who brawl. Both films cater to what the body can be used for besides sex, but violence cannot be translated directly into a healthy relationship, so the film opts for rough and straight-to-the-point intercourse. The other has room to explore.

So fine, sure, no foreplay checks out. It’s her loss, not mine! But, to fill that tiny hole left after viewing, there is a well of foreplay moments to choose from in Dirty Dancing. The scene in which Johnny and Baby lip-sync “Love Is Strange” is without a doubt one of the sexiest scenes put to film, and everybody is fully clothed. A tight black tank and pants paired with a white knotted top and jorts have never looked more revealing! AND IT WAS UNSCRIPTED! The couple uses the floor as a third dance partner; Johnny drops to the ground in sexually frustrated agony before laying on his side to watch Baby, who toys with his desire. Baby plays with his gaze, hiding and calling for him, before the two crawl toward each other and Johnny puts his face to her chest, buried there while they stand together slowly. Then, they are interrupted!!!!! It’s magic, and nothing even really happened. The power of suggestion, of unrealized yet pulsating desire. By God, this is a foreplay for the ages. 

I’ve always used my age as an excuse for a lack of sexual ambition. I often feel too young, too childish to be in tune with my sexuality in a way that invites excitement, so I usually say things like, “Maybe when I’m 25, I’ll feel ready to do x, y, z…” I assume that with age comes confidence and security in my body. But movies like Dirty Dancing help me remember I don’t have to, and shouldn’t, hide behind a number or create an illusion of numerical motivation or self-assurance to be attuned to my desire. Baby is only 18, and she comes out of the film loved and desired as Frances. She must break the bonds of her youth to find power in her sexuality, and I’ll always admire the film for what it has to say about women and sex. Because sex, for those who want it, is great, but what comes before intercourse has the potential to be timeless.