“Nobody Cares about Danny & Sandy": The Problem with the Grease Prequel

When I heard about the Grease prequel, I had to roll my eyes. That’s not to say I don’t love Grease. While this film is notorious for being misogynistic and silly, I believe the exact opposite, and I’ve always found it to be a very thought-provoking film.

I even occasionally do a guilty pleasure watch of Grease 2 and turn up “Cool Rider” on Spotify. In fact, I’d even argue that musicals don’t always have to do anything particularly important, and it’s okay for something to just be fun.

However, I can’t think of anything less fun than a Grease prequel – especially one that details the tumultuous, yet still somehow boring relationship between Danny and Sandy. That is because Danny and Sandy’s relationship is the least important aspect of Grease.

This film is the story of high school kids in a patriarchal society. It is about the pressure on women to turn against one another out of fear of disrupting their role of subservient sexuality. Is there a little romance? Sure. Do Danny and Sandy end up together? Yup. Do they float away in a magical car at the end of the film?

Okay…yes.

But I find it hard to believe that their relationship is a more interesting focus than say, Sandy’s desire to fit in with the Pink Ladies or Rizzo feeling threatened by Sandy.

The reality is that this film just isn’t about Danny Zuko or any of the male characters at all. It is about the girls – their relationships with one another, their coming of age, and the struggles they face as they emerge into womanhood in the 1950s. The existence of this prequel completely undermines that.

First, this prequel is entitled “Summer Lovin” – presumably, a reference to the musical number, “Summer Nights.” Here’s the problem though: this song is not about Danny and Sandy’s hum-drum romance. It is about the way that men and women are socialized to seek partners.

For instance, Danny’s buddies are eager to hear of his sexual exploits, inquiring, “Did you get very far?” and (very concerningly) “Did she put up a fight?” Meanwhile, Sandy’s friends ask about Danny’s wealth and status symbols, singing “Does he have a car?” and “How much dough did he spend?”

Here, it is clear that women are defined by their sexuality and passivity, while men are defined by their ability to provide. This puts the men in a dominant position over the women immediately. The point of this song is to lay the foundation so that we understand the context of our further ponderings.

Why does Rizzo feel ashamed of her willingness to have sex? Why does she feel threatened by Sandy’s perceived purity and thus, act with hostility toward her? Why does Danny feel like he has to prove his masculinity by being cruel to Sandy and speaking about her in a sexual manner?  

These are the real questions that we should be asking. I just don’t care that Danny and Sandy made out under a dock.

In addition, it’s important to recognize that the most notable scene between the female characters – a slumber party – portrays the girls establishing their place in a social group and handling peer pressure. At one point, Rizzo sings “Look at Me, I’m Sandra Dee,” taunting Sandy behind her back for her virginity. Later, we find out that Rizzo did this out of her own insecurity, and she elaborates on the pressure that she feels to maintain her role as a sexual object in the painful ballad, “There Are Worse Things I Can Do.”

Contrastingly, the most notable scene between the male characters – an ode to a car in a garage – is a slew of sexual innuendos and pelvic thrusting.  The boys simply do not have the same journey, and their escapades of fixing cars, mooning passersby, and choosing what girl to take to prom never achieve the nuance of the female characters.

This film is screaming at us to recognize the vastly different ways that men and women have been socialized to interact – whether it means to or not.

Further, nobody remembers any romantic scenes between Danny and Sandy in this film. In fact, I don’t believe there are any romantic scenes between Danny and Sandy in this film. The most we see of them together is when Danny, after asking Sandy to go steady, practically sexually assaults her in his car.

As if holding her down while she resists is not bad enough, he further tries to pressure her by saying “I thought I meant something to you.” Oh yikes. Ooooooh yikes. I am sure I’m not the only one who tunes out during the “Sandy” number.

I know what you’re thinking. If Danny is this bad, then how is the ending justified? Didn’t Sandy totally change her whole look for a man? Doesn’t this film have a horrible message? How can you say that this film is for and about girls and women when it has a moral like this?  

But here’s the thing. I do not believe that Sandy changed for Danny. Sandy changed because she finally realized that dressing in a way that makes you feel empowered is not an invitation for sexual activity. She realized that this horrible battle of purity and sexuality that women are forced to go through is just ridiculous. She wanted to relax and be herself, but she was too afraid. Who wouldn’t be?

She saw the way that Rizzo was treated for her perceived promiscuity. She saw the way that Danny tried to overstep her boundaries even when she was dressed modestly. Would you want to have fun with your hair and put on some leather pants after that?

I do not interpret this finale number as Sandy changing for Danny, or Sandy having sex for Danny, or even Sandy having sex at all. Rather, I interpret this as Sandy reclaiming her sexuality for herself, as she scathingly retorts to Danny, “You better shape up.”

We watch Grease to see Sandy triumph and grow into her womanhood. We watch it to remind ourselves of the rush of high school drama. We watch it because patriarchal socialization is still prevalent today, and Rizzo’s pain in her famous ballad is all too familiar. We also maybe watch it because “Greased Lightning” and “Beauty School Dropout” are fun and catchy – and that’s fine!

Regardless, this is a story that does not require any further information about Danny and Sandy going strolling and drinking lemonade. If anything, I would have enjoyed a new Grease 2, where Sandy dumps Danny after high school, finds a good guy, and remains friends with Rizzo.

The last thing she needs right now is a prequel detailing a toxic summer romance, which Danny would later exploit by telling his friends, “We got friendly down in the sand.” She deserves better than that. We all do.