Risky Business, I came to bear witness.
Pull out the Blu-Ray, it’s time to hit this,
Overlooked gem of the 80’s scene,
A contemplation of the American Dream.
It’s a criticism of capitalism,
An expose on Puritanism,
A condemnation of indecision,
And a writer/director’s singular vision.
It’s the story of a young man’s sexual awakening,
More than Tom Cruise in briefs and booty-shakening,
More than just a comedy, more than good fun,
More than just another chance to see the “Tom Cruise Run”.
He runs so hard, but his hands stay so straight.
You look like you could use a synopsis.
Joel’s a young man with expressionist anxiety,
Overwhelmed by the pressures of society.
Open on a shower-based nocturnal emission.
Cut to parents demanding Ivy League admission.
Pursuit of perfection is harshing Joel’s erection.
With parents away he calls Rebecca De Mornay.
He racks up a debt because he’s young and dumb and horny.
She’s a delusional illusion. They share a windy fusion,
She purloins him from pursuing his preferred institution.
He’s cashing out bonds to pay for blondes,
But before you know it, he’s got a brothel going on.
He’s not very discreet, there’s a pimp he must defeat,
While he falls in love with this angel from the street.
In a turn of serendipity, the kind you find in 1983,
The recruiter recognizes enterprising ingenuity.
And that’s pretty much the plot.
But if you’ll allow me to present three themes and observations, I think you’ll find yourself in agreement with me that Risky Business is a film of weight, depth, and complexity.
With the exception of one symbolic crack,
All that was broken has been put back.
Joel’s life is safe and seemingly on track,
But that beaten path? Looking pretty whack.
Potential disrupted, or innocence corrupted?
For all his rebellion, he’s still going to Princeton,
Pursuing a passion back to where he had begun,
Is it freedom or a new prison Joel has won?
And don’t go pretending some romantic happy ending.
Fawned and conned, Lana wrecked his life and got his stuff pawned.
She made him man of the hour,
But she cut and ran when things turned sour.
Was she part of the plan?
Was it love or a scam?
Were the pimp and the gun and the car chase planned?
They can’t be together, but they can be controlled.
Lives like furniture; bought and sold.
And who’s to say it’s not another fanciful dream,
Unattainable perfection, cloaked in steam.
Gone insane with the SATs to blame,
And where’d they know how to find that empty train,
To have sex in?
I’m asking for,
For me.
Why’s is all gotta be so tough?
Sometimes you gotta just say, “What the fuck?”
Yeah, “what the fuck?”
