Underrated and Classic 80s Flick: Tuff Turf
Recent news about Bravo’s next version of the Real Housewives perked me up. The Beverly Hills cast will star two of Paris Hilton’s aunts, including child star and should-have-been 80s icon Kim Richards. From the Witch Mountain franchise to an appearance on Magnum P.I., Kim’s roles dusted the era like sprinkles on donuts. And I like donuts.
In honor of Kim’s return to fame, this weekend we revisited the 1985 theatrical classic Tuff Turf. As you might suspect, the awesomely cool spelling of Tuff implies that the flick is Tuffer than Tough. And who can resist such tag lines as this: Where enemies are made, reputations are earned and love is the most risky affair of all.
Successful 80s genre ought to include a variety and abundance of creative weapons. The following are used in Tuff Turf’s fight scenes: Dobermans, drum barrels, ropes, advertisement signs, spray paint (in more than one brawl!), switchblades, knives, pistols, some sort of BB gun, sharp steel thing broken off of newsstand, a bicycle, several cars, a 2x4 with nails sticking out of one end, fists, legs/feet, a dead rat, a combination lock wrapped in a towel, a set of keys wrapped in a towel, a crowbar, chairs, dance moves, a liquor store counter, and a tennis racket.
Oh yes, Tuff Turf is all we expect from 80s cinema. It has a surplus of misunderstood teens, a cheesy but TUFF gang (dressed in leather vests and with bandannas tied around the legs of their tight jeans), and a beautiful female lead with awesome hair. As the spunky- tough (er, I mean TUFF) Frankie, Kim and her thigh-length blonde hair act alongside a very young James Spader (affected accent already present) and an even younger Robert Downey (pre “Jr”).
Frankie’s hair, a secondary but important character, flowed seductively around her, framing her umbrella-like, as she (and her wigged body double) twirled and cart-wheeled across the dance floor. It never got caught in bike spokes, car doors, or zippers. When Frankie needed to corral her mane she simply knotted it (as in this scene where James Spader's character serenades her), rather than using a pesky ponytail binder. When naughty Frankie was on screen her tresses were crimped, and when she turned into refined Frankie her locks hung straight. Reckless symbolism.
I was more sidekick than Frankie, and try as I might I couldn’t get my hair to grow past my waist. But Kim and her hair gave me something to aspire to. The 80s may be over, but we both remain tuff. 80s tuff.
In honor of Kim’s return to fame, this weekend we revisited the 1985 theatrical classic Tuff Turf. As you might suspect, the awesomely cool spelling of Tuff implies that the flick is Tuffer than Tough. And who can resist such tag lines as this: Where enemies are made, reputations are earned and love is the most risky affair of all.
Successful 80s genre ought to include a variety and abundance of creative weapons. The following are used in Tuff Turf’s fight scenes: Dobermans, drum barrels, ropes, advertisement signs, spray paint (in more than one brawl!), switchblades, knives, pistols, some sort of BB gun, sharp steel thing broken off of newsstand, a bicycle, several cars, a 2x4 with nails sticking out of one end, fists, legs/feet, a dead rat, a combination lock wrapped in a towel, a set of keys wrapped in a towel, a crowbar, chairs, dance moves, a liquor store counter, and a tennis racket.
Oh yes, Tuff Turf is all we expect from 80s cinema. It has a surplus of misunderstood teens, a cheesy but TUFF gang (dressed in leather vests and with bandannas tied around the legs of their tight jeans), and a beautiful female lead with awesome hair. As the spunky- tough (er, I mean TUFF) Frankie, Kim and her thigh-length blonde hair act alongside a very young James Spader (affected accent already present) and an even younger Robert Downey (pre “Jr”).
Frankie’s hair, a secondary but important character, flowed seductively around her, framing her umbrella-like, as she (and her wigged body double) twirled and cart-wheeled across the dance floor. It never got caught in bike spokes, car doors, or zippers. When Frankie needed to corral her mane she simply knotted it (as in this scene where James Spader's character serenades her), rather than using a pesky ponytail binder. When naughty Frankie was on screen her tresses were crimped, and when she turned into refined Frankie her locks hung straight. Reckless symbolism.
I was more sidekick than Frankie, and try as I might I couldn’t get my hair to grow past my waist. But Kim and her hair gave me something to aspire to. The 80s may be over, but we both remain tuff. 80s tuff.
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