Fame (1980) * * * *

Directed by: Alan Parker

Starring:  Barry Miller, Irene Cara, Gene Anthony Ray, Anne Meara, Lee Curreri, Laura Dean, Boyd Gaines, Paul McCrane, Jim Moody, Maureen Teefy, Boyd Gaines

The odds of becoming a working, let alone famous actor/singer/dancer, are summed up in sobering terms by Mr. Farrell, the drama teacher at New York's High School for the Performing Arts.   "There are 50,000 actors out there, maybe 500 are working.   Talent alone won't be enough,"  That does not dissuade the freshman year students from dreaming of being the next big star.   By their senior year, some of the students will learn all too well that their dreams may never come to fruition.

Fame never fails to be engaging, riveting, passionate, and honest.   It is a musical, but not a traditional one in which the cast members stop everything and belt out a song and dance number. 
The songs arise from a release of pent-up emotion.    Watch the students dance as the title song belts out over the soundtrack.   This is not overly stylized choreography in which students dance like they're channeling Bob Fosse.   They dance to their own rhythms, and everything swells to chaos and sheer joy, a much needed break from the pressure cooker of their studies.

Or watch the show stopper "Out Here on My Own", sung by Irene Cara.   It is just Cara playing a piano to an empty auditorium, and this is how it should be.   It is not unusual to see a fledgling singer performing a song, just as it isn't odd to see musicians improvise a jam session over lunch.    The musical numbers grow from realism, and they only come up when needed.    The rest of the time, Fame follows several dramatic threads of the performing arts students who attend, including Ralph (Miller), a Puerto Rican kid who idolizes Freddie Prinze, Doris (Teffy), a Jewish actress with a domineering stage mother, Leroy (Ray), a rebellious and illiterate dancer, Bruno (Curreri), a musical whiz who plays full orchestral pieces on a synthesizer, Coco (Cara), a wide-eyed singer/dancer whose
dreams are crushed by a harsh reality, and Montgomery (McCrane), a gay drama student with an absent actress mother.    We never lose our way with their stories.   The kids evolve over four years right in front of us.    Director Parker allows them their space to breathe, grow, be imperfect, insecure, and sometimes naive.   In other words, they're human, and the pressures of their chosen professions will either build their character or crush it. 

Romances flourish and then end between the characters, as do friendships, hopes, and tribulations. 
Editor Gerry Hambling earned a well-deserved Oscar nomination for his editing, which manages to keep everything moving forward while never confusing the audience.   The first half-hour or so speeds ahead like a freight train, and then the pace slows so each story can be expanded.    The story given the most depth is Ralph's (Miller), who longs to be Freddie Prinze but fails to realize that there will be rough nights on the comedy circuit performing in front of indifferent audiences who don't laugh at your jokes and make your life hell.    Are any of these people prepared for the crushing rejections and disappointments which are sure to come their way? 

The most infamous scene in the movie involves Coco being tricked into disrobing in front of the camera by a predator posing as a hotshot movie producer.    As Coco cries while sitting naked and vulnerable, she experiences a heartbreaking and terrifying reality about the world at large, not simply show business.   The predator has done this before, preying on naive would-be starlets who dream big and are blinded by ambition.   We don't see Coco again in the movie, not even in the final graduation number, at least as I far as I can recall.    Did she drop out after experiencing this trauma?   Possibly, and it is so sad to see her inner light extinguished, especially since she sings the title song and Out Here on My Own with such hopefulness and optimism.

Fame is not only about the pursuit of fame, but the soul-crushing rejection and emptiness which come with that pursuit.   You can have all the talent and still never catch a break.   One actor who Doris has a crush on (Gaines) graduates, wins a scholarship, and signs with the William Morris Agency.   He is moving to Hollywood and the agency has big plans for him.   Two years later, the same man is waiting on Doris and her friends in a small Times Square restaurant.    His dreams never materialized, and he is not alone.    It is more likely than not that most, if not all of the performing arts students will never catch a big break, or even work steadily.

The final number taking place at graduation after four years of pain, frustration, hard work, disappointments, and of course joys is "I Sing the Body Electric", and Parker uses this scene to sum up Fame effectively and efficiently.    The graduation is a joyful occasion, but then once the number ends, there is a quick cut to the credits.    No epilogue saying what happened to each of the major players, only uncertainty about their futures once they leave the halls of school for the final time. 
Parker and his cast understands all too well what they're up against.    None of the actors in the film evolved into timeless stars, although Cara had a few big years in the first half of the 80's and Miller went on to a successful career as a character actor, but this illustrates the entire heartbreaking, realistic point of Fame.