SCREEN BEAT

SCREEN BEAT

HAVE YOU SEEN YOUR MOTHER, BABY, STANDING IN THE SPOTLIGHT Altman

On the night of February 7, at 9:00 p.m., just as some 40 to 50 million people were tuning their TV sets to the local ABC affiliate to watch the network’s video production of Priscilla Presley’s autobiography, Elvis And Me, I was tuning my set away from New York’s channel 7. Was it sacrilege? Am I a heretic? No. I am proud to say that I let Elvis into my life wholeheartedly when I was just a little boy, and so have not felt compelled to overcompensate since he died by prostrating myself in front of anything featuring His likeness (especially when it looks like Erik Estrada in a wig). Personally, I prefer to believe that Elvis’s death is just a phase he’s going through, like when he was in the army. And, when he returns, I’m sure he’ll think it was fine that I changed stations, especially since, for two hours that very evening, I watched, open-mouthed and awestruck, as the Disney Sunday Movie preached the new gospel for the pop culture-addicted ’80s. I speak, of course, of the made-for-television—and yea, for the ages—movie given unto us under the title Rock ’N’ Roll Mom.

Rock ’N’ Roll Mom stars Dyan Cannon as Annie Hackett, middle-aged-single-parent, mother of young teen daughter Emma and pre-teen son Mickey. Right at the beginning, after the kids are packed off to school, Annie switches the radio on for background music while she does her kitchen chores, and the next thing you know, she’s gyrating atop her butcher block work island to the mellifluous tones of “Devil With A Blue Dress On.” Does Annie wield a mean skillet? Are soup ladles good surrogate microphones? You betcha. Although Annie has a suitably dull job at a bakery, squeezing cream fillings into pastries (no comment), she does have an outlet for her “wild” side, and that’s her songwriting and singing, which only her closest friends from “the old days” know about. When her daughter’s school plans a local talent night, Annie and her two closest friends giddily audition as an Andrews Sisters-styled singing trio and are hired by the promoter—mainly to make the headlining heavy metal band he manages, the Cryogenics, look better. At the show, the women are almost laughed off the stage by the audience of Cryogenics plants, and the angry friends convince Annie to “show them” by performing one of her originals. Miraculously, without ever having rehearsed it, the bowling alley lounge band cranks into pulsating dance club mode, Annie lets down her tresses, opens a button or two, and the next thing you know, everyone is on thejr feet screaming.

About two minutes later, a tape of her song accidentally makes its way to the ears of a bigtime record exec who just happens to be looking for the right tune for temperamental megastar Darcy X (Heather Locklear, IN A CAREERSTRETCHING FULLY-CLOTHED PERFORMANCE!) to record as her next single. The exec wants to meet Annie, so she goes to his L.A. office with her new manager (the sleazeball who had left Annie’s song on the back of the Cryogenics demo tape), where she’s mistaken for a temp and spends several hours making coffee and signing Darcy’s signature on 8 X10 glossies before they figure out who she is. The next day, when Darcy disappears just before a recording session, Annie does a guide vocal for the studio musicians that’s so good it’s soon being played all over town as the debut single by that new star on the horizon—Mysterel The rest would seem to be history.

But wait! The image consultant for the record company (played with appropriate adenoidal obnoxiousness by the woman who appeared as the publicity director in Spinal Tap) says this “mom” thing is a definite downer. As far as the public is concerned, she must not have any kids. “In your new life,” she is told, “you are free to date David Lee Roth!” (To do a separated-at-birth spread for Spy, hopefully.) Sweaters and jeans? Forget it! Next stop, Frederick’s of Hollywood! In no time, “Mystere” is on the cover of Rolling Stone (guess they got tired of alternating Sting and George Michael) and paparazzi are following her everywhere. Eventually, her true identity is revealed, Darcy X returns from Jamaica (recovering from traumatic dental surgery is her agent’s explanation for the hiatus), and suddenly “phony” Annie is back home with her sticky buns.

The record exec, though, still believes in her, and he comes all the way to the bakery to tell her that, a) he can get her on TV if she trusts him, and, b) he cares deeply about her. She tells him to go stick his thumb in a pie. They fight. They make up. They’re in love. (And remember, she signed that recording contract...) While the exec fools everyone into thinking another group will be performing in the time slot that he’s going to give Annie, the artist herself asks her kids what they think. And what do they think? Probably that if Mom plays her cards right, maybe David Lee Roth will become their stepfather and they can all go mountain climbing! Overjoyed by their approval, Annie starts to rethink the, er, thrust of her act. “This time,” she vows, “I’ll do it my way.” (You think maybe they stole the plot for this year’s Dolly Parfon Show from this script?) “Her way” means her two friends on back-up vocals and both kids in the band. (Didn’t know they could play? That’s OK, neither did we!) By the time they reach the stage (after the requisite 10 minute “getting in shape” montage—rock ’n’ roll equals aerobics; I love it), they’re a regular updated Partridge Family\ Only one thing from the old act stays—thank God, it’s the Frederick’s of Hollywood outfit.

Rock W Roll Mom ends with Annie/Dyan flaunting her flauntables about as good as any (according to my Information Please Almanac) 51-year-old mom I can think of outside of Tina Turner, getting the guy, keeping her kids, and becoming a star all over again. All this in two hours! And from the Disney people, who wouldn’t let longhairs into Disneyland a mere 20 years ago! And through a medium which was once only too happy to portray Samantha Stevens’s evil Bewitched twin cousin, Serena, as a guitar-totin’ rock ’n’ roll hippie,'

America, be proud!