Shampoo

Back in the early 1930s, in the time of cinema known as "pre-code" due to the general disregard for the prohibitive Motion Picture Production Code, there were lots of so-called sex comedies which made gags out of the bed-hopping escapades of their philandering heroes. The best of them were renowned for their cleverness in hinting at sexual acts that could not be shown on screen. Forty years later the production code had been scrapped and sex now could be (and frequently was) shown explicitly, but the sex comedy did not make a significant comeback. Shampoo is a rare but prime example.

Shampoo is a sex comedy in that most, if not all, of its jokes revolve around sex, or at least the implication that sex has taken place or might be about to take place. As a result it is arguable that the comedy is a bit thin and repetitive, and it is true that the story is hardly bursting with riotous wit. And yet ace screenwriter Robert Towne constructs situations that are funny in their believable social awkwardness. They might only raise a chuckle or two over the course of a scene, but they have an almost soap opera quality which keeps us watching. Besides, there's a bit more going on here than bedroom humour. The decision to set it seven years in the past seems strangely arbitrary at first, but it has a surprisingly moving impact when political events start to creep into the narrative, and Warren Beatty's womanising antics are put into some perspective.

Like all comedies, a lot of its success or otherwise depends on the acting performances. This was largely an age of realism in acting, but here the performances are just on the comedic side of real. Nobody does anything which is exactly funny in its own right, but it often is funny in its timing and context. For example, there is Beatty's mumbled excuse to Carrie Fisher (whom he has just had sex with) when he is dragged off by Lee Grant (who intends to have sex with him). Similarly, a lot of Jack Warden's self-important manliness is funny in the context of the fact that Beatty is busy screwing his wife, mistress and teenage daughter. Lee Grant gives another of her typically attention-grabbing minor roles, the authoritative society lady one minute, girlishly sipping a soft drink through a straw the next. Returning to Beatty, I'm also vaguely amused by the way he emphasises the last syllable in "pancreas" during the first scene, as if it's some kind of ass.

The director here is Hal Ashby, a really fine craftsman of 70s cinema with a deceptively simple approach. He doesn't move the camera much, and often keeps back a bit from the action, not in a cold, distant way but more to show everything that is going on in a scene and allow the actors' body language to come across as well as facial expression. This is even effective for the comedy, such as in the scene where Beatty trashes the bin outside the bank, in which the wide shot makes him look somewhat pathetic in his anger. When Ashby does move the camera it is usually to give an impression a setting or situation, often with beautiful economy, and nearly always disguised by following the movement of a character. Take the shot which introduces Jack Warden's home life. He enters from one end of the room, kisses his daughter in mid-shot and surrounded by lots of colour. Then as he crosses what turns out to be a rather large room, the camera wheels round, to reveal his wife sitting alone amid stark white furnishings. An editor before he took up directing, Ashby clearly knows the potentially comedic value of a well-timed crosscut. For example, after the scene in which Warden discusses whether or not Beatty is "a fairy", we cut to a shot of Beatty blow-drying a woman's hair, her face virtually in his crotch.

But there is one thing that makes Shampoo really stand out, and this is something which comes both from Ashby's direction and the Towne/Beatty screenplay: Despite coming from a more liberated era, it still has the artful good taste of the sex comedies of the 30s. It resists the temptation to become soft porn or a string of gross-out jokes. There is only a little partial nudity, and for the most part we do not see much of the sex acts, only their beginnings and aftermaths. And this is an era in which a fairly graphic sex scene was fast becoming a staple of any romantic movie. Despite its being a comedy almost wholly concerned with one man's sexual adventures, Shampoo is a surprisingly mature and refreshingly intelligent motion picture.

A day in the life of a Southern California hairstylist (Beatty) as he beds three women (Christie, Hawn and Lee Grant) while at the same time trying to seek a loan from businessman Lester (Oscar nominee Jack Warden) to help him open his own salon… His world soon starts to fall apart as he realizes what he fervently wishes in life and the limitations of his cheerful posture toward others…

Lee Grant won an Oscar for playing Lester's bored wife who can't seem to take her eyes off Beatty, and even her nymphet daughter (a young Carrie Fisher) desperately wanted him to be engaging in reciprocal sex… Grant's actually quite jovial and adorable in her role as we heartily feel for her character near the climax…

Warren Beatty appears either excitable or distracted through most of the story… He lies, hides, and denies facts, doing whatever it takes to make everyone happy...

If you like to see Julie Christie notoriously fellating Beatty underneath an elegant dinner table… well don't miss this funny sex comedy which received four Oscar nominations

Hal Ashby's "Shampoo" stars Warren Beatty as George Roundy, a popular Beverly Hills hairdresser who spends his life juggling customers, jobs and women.

The great joke of the film is that George exists solely to please other people. He's entirely selfless. Whilst Ashby paints the rest of society as being self-centered and selfish, George dutifully cuts hair, tends to women and bounces from one lover to another. The poster boy for altruism, he exists solely to make other people happy.

Though marketed as a sex comedy, the film works better as a political statement. It takes place during the eve of the 1968 presidential election (in which Nixon was elected) and attempts to capture the last vestiges of a certain crazy, carefree era, Ashby contrasting whimsical Pre-Nixon attitudes (nonchalant sex, free love, a kind of social cohesion which George can no longer maintain), with the knowledge that Watergate, corruption, lies and the general pessimism of the Nixon era, were all on the horizon. By the film's end, George can no longer love everybody. The glue has failed and myopia, separation, selfishness and egotism on a grand scale has begun.

Unsurprisingly, everyone in "Shampoo" aspires to success in both bed and bank. The characters are constantly working. Working at their jobs, on themselves, or on their lovers etc. But Ashby's larger point is that they ultimately have no significant political or cultural impact. They're too selfish, myopic and self centred, and thus the Nixon administration, which comes about at the end of the film, is exactly what these people deserved.

"Shampoo's" opening and closing scenes neatly portray George's own personal evolution. The film opens with him making love to one of his many women, the Beach Boys' lyrics, "Wouldn't it be nice if we were married..." pulsating on the soundtrack. The song emphasises the yearning beneath George's playboy image. By the end of the film, however, George is left alone on a hill top, watching as his women turn their backs on him and drive away with their respective partners. They've all moved on, whilst he stands there, a dead man with a pipe dream. Hard luck, man.

7.9/10 - Worth one viewing. Adam Sandler's "Don't Mess With The Zohan" would borrow heavily from Warren Beatty's work here.

In a recent interview in Cineaste magazine, celeb film critic Pauline Kael described the 1970's as the greatest decade of American movies. She then laid claim by listing her seven favorite films from that period. One of the films mentioned was Shampoo. I couldn't agree more with Pauline. Aside from the lighting and some of the camerawork, everything in the film is about as good as it gets---Robert Towne's ear for common parlance, Beatty's understated charisma, and Ashby's whirlwind direction.

It's strange that more people haven't written about this movie. In many ways, Shampoo seems to have been forgotten, floating somewhere in film history heaven. I live in Los Angeles and have never heard about it being screened anywhere. Dave Kehr and the critical establishment in general have all written it off as a film that hasn't aged well. And I've never seen a book written about either Shampoo or Ashby. Am I living in a vault or is this really the legacy of Shampoo? If you don't like this movie, I urge you to write or contact me. My e-mail address is listed above. I simply don't understand why more people don't

Robert Towne's "Chinatown" is considered the greatest script of the past 30 years, but I think "Shampoo" (written by Towne and Beatty) is even better. It is an intricately constructed sex farce, with realistic, flesh-and-blood characters. Beatty's character, George, is trying to serve two masters -- his own uncontrollable libido, and his desire to set up his own hair salon. These two desires come into direct conflict when he seeks funding from wealthy financier Lester (Jack Warden), while also having affairs with Lester's wife Felicia (Lee Grant), Lester's mistress Jackie(Julie Christie), and even Lester's daugther (Carrie Fisher). In fact, George beds all of these women in a 24-hour period, while also trying to maintain his relationship with his steady girlfriend (Goldie Hawn). All of these incompatible desires are compressed into a short time frame, and George's life unravels spectacularly, as he learns some very hard lessons by the end.

Structurally, "Shampoo" is brilliantly devised. Each character has an opposite. George, the satyr, has Lester, the cuckhold, as his opposite. George exudes natural sexual appeal, whereas Lester is loved merely for his wealth. Tony Bill's character, an ad executive, is the younger version of Lester. Tony Bill dangles a job offer to Goldie Hawn in order to bed her. Despite his hip outward appearance, this character is as staid as Lester. In fact, the two characters are linked by separate scenes in which each one stares out of a skyscraper window, gazing at a panoramic view of L.A., and makes a world-weary comment about the craziness below (in Bill's case, he says, "Jesus, this town"). There is also a contrast between George and Jackie. George, in his own words, "doesn't f*** for money, I do it for fun," whereas Jackie ends up as a kept girl (by Lester). Goldie Hawn's character also prostitutes herself, in a very subtle way. In the moral universe of Beverly Hills in 1968, Beatty's promiscuity seems more pure than the money-driven machinations of everyone else.