As Jerry Seinfeld once remarked: “My parents didn’t want to move to Florida, but they turned sixty and that’s the law.” For many, the law is something like a slow and sun-drenched death sentence, with games of golf, bridge and shuffleboard, or annual visits from the grandkids, staving off the inevitable. But for the ladies at the heart of Love Martinsen and Maria Loohufvud’s endearing dance documentary, Calendar Girls, the Sunshine State is closer to a place of rebirth, allowing them to find a new vocation, as well as new friendships, at a time when most people have already stopped trying.
Set in sunny Cape Coral, a land of palm trees and strip malls, the film follows a troupe of golden-aged female dancers who perform year-round in retirement homes, shopping centers and assisted living facilities, bringing a little pizazz to the humdrum lives of Florida’s senior community. Like the dance routines, which are set to an array of pop hits ranging from Harry Belafonte’s “Jump in the Line” to the Backstreet Boys’ “Everybody,” the documentary is mostly upbeat and whimsical, until taking on darker undertones, and more of a purpose, in its closing reels. A Sundance world premiere should give these girls the exposure they deserve, with streaming pickups likely.
“We have a reputation in Southwest Florida, and we’ve worked hard for it,” is how Katherine Shortlidge, the no-nonsense leader of the Calendar Girls (a name taken from the 1961 Neil Sedaka golden oldie) accurately describes her company, which consists entirely of women, the majority of them well into their 60s or 70s. Martinsen and Loohufvud, a pair of Swedish filmmakers who do everything here — shooting, editing, scoring, as well as choreographing a series of playful and surreal dance videos intercut with the action — take us through the group’s endless rehearsals, costume and makeup preparations, and finally their performances before sleepy audiences of silver-haired people their own age.
Although Shortlidge’s ladies take their vocations awfully seriously, their shows are pure kitsch, and there are moments early on when the movie seems to drift along with all the airheadedness of a humid Florida afternoon. (To quote another comic, George Carlin, on the state: “Everything is in the 80s. The temperatures, the ages and the IQs.”)
But Martinsen and Loohufvud gradually center in on a few members of the troupe, revealing the difficult and sometimes depressing lives they lead behind all the glitter (and there’s lots of glitter here, as well as sparkles, sequins and Christmas lights worn as head ornaments or necklaces). One woman, a former Baltimore cop, finds her new dance career upended by a debilitating stomach condition, forcing her to resign from the company with much grief. Another is an ex-con who has found a welcoming community within the Calendar Girls, serving as the troupe’s DJ and hype-woman.
Yet another is obliged to move to North Carolina in order to live with her retired husband in their log cabin. The filmmakers follow her up there, and the brief scene of domestic life they capture is one of pure misery. It’s no wonder the woman prefers to be down south with the other dancers, and Calendar Girls, for all its depictions of Florida fun in the sun, offers up a potent feminist statement on wives trying to liberate themselves at a late age from husbands who have tied them down for too long.
Toward the end, there are two other telling scenes that shift the film’s tone entirely, giving it the gravitas it needs. One is a happy hour sequence in a local bar, where a small committee jokingly discusses suicide and euthanasia — “It’s better to do it in the car,” one insists — revealing how these seemingly cheeky gals probably contemplate death on a regular basis. The other is a closing music montage, set to the sad and beautiful strains of Yo La Tengo’s ballad “I’ll Be Around,” where everything clicks together and we finally realize that these Calendar Girls have really had two vocations all along: the first is to serve their community; the second, even more important, is to serve one another.
Directors, producers, cinematography: Love Martinsen, Maria Loohufvud
Editing, music: Love Martinsen
Choreography: Maria Loohufvud
Production company: Pink Dolphin AB (Sweden)
Sales: Juno Films (North America), Cats & Docs (Rest of World)
Venue: Sundance Film Festival (World Cinema Documentary Competition)
In English
83 minutes
