The Time of My Life (17 page)

With all that said, we still figured it would be a modestly successful movie, and not much more than that. Lisa thought it was the kind of story people would be drawn to, where the good guy falls in love with the funky girl. We had no idea what
was coming—that after the movie opened we would be swallowed by a tidal wave of fame and attention, like nothing we’d ever imagined.

In the meantime, Lisa and I headed for a place about as far away from Hollywood as you can get—geographically, spiritually, and otherwise. We flew to Africa to make our first feature together:
Steel Dawn.

Lisa and I peered out the window as the small plane we were in descended toward Swakopmund, on the western coast of Namibia. We were exhausted, having traveled for more than twenty-four hours, including a ten-hour layover in Frankfurt with nothing but chairs to sleep in. As we looked out at the desert terrain below, I said to Lisa, “Damn, it looks just like Arizona. Why’d we come all this way?”

Bone-tired from the
Dirty Dancing
shoot, I was only half joking. But we found out soon enough that the Namib Desert, where we would be shooting
Steel Dawn,
was a mystical and magical place. Our time spent doing this shoot would restore us in many ways, and lead to a lifelong love of Africa for both Lisa and me.

On our first day there, we piled into a Kombi Volkswagen van and headed out to explore. The Namib Desert borders the Kalahari, the second-largest desert in Africa after the Sahara. And although the word “desert” conjures images of sand and more sand, this desert was alive, especially in the morning.

In addition to beautifully wind-sculpted dunes, in some parts of the desert there were whole stretches of crusted black
rock, like a moonscape. If you spend the night in that moonscape, thenwake up just before dawn, you can watch as the whole desert suddenly blossoms into green. When Lisa and I first saw it happen, we thought we were dreaming. But in actuality it was the lichen on the rocks opening up briefly, like a flower, to collect moisture. Then, as the sun rises in the sky, it suddenly closes back up, leaving nothing but scorched-looking rocks and the memory of what seemed like a mirage.

Ever since the days of camping with my dad in the backwoods of Texas, I’ve always loved learning about how people in different places live off the land. It’s partly why
Red Dawn
appealed so much to me—I take a certain pride in knowing I could find a way to survive in any environment. Here in southern Africa, I wanted to connect with local people who could teach me how to live in the desert. Where do you find water, food, and shelter in such a desolate environment?

Seeing the desert blossom into green was amazing, and it showed us that sustenance can come from the most unlikely places. Some African members of the crew had grown up in the desert, and they told us more—about the roaming herds of ostrich and other animals, and details about how to survive in the desert. Both Lisa and I connected in a very deep way with the nature all around us, and we loved driving out to explore different parts of the Kalahari during the shoot.

But although we loved being in Africa, I was exhausted from
Dirty Dancing
. I’d put everything I had into that shoot, and then we moved straight into
Steel Dawn
with no break. My
Steel Dawn
character, Nomad, is a warrior in a postapocalyptic world who travels across the desert fighting mutant sand people and outlaws. We shot a lot of very physical scenes, with sword fighting, martial arts, spear throwing, and hand-to-hand
combat. All that activity, plus being immersed in this amazing place, was enough to make my head spin.

As always, Lisa was my rock. This was the first time we were acting in a movie together, and it was rewarding to share scenes with her onscreen, rather than just working behind the scenes with her. She played Kasha, a widow who lives in the desert with her young son and falls in love with Nomad. Lisa is a wonderful actress, and I was happy she was finally getting an opportunity to show her stuff. And I found that I was falling in love with her all over again, which led to a funny encounter with a woman who was working on the crew.

We were at a big cast-and-crew party toward the end of the shoot. Lisa and I danced together most of the night, and often had our arms around each other, which we’d been doing a lot of during our weeks in Africa. But at this party, one woman who worked in the wardrobe department kept giving Lisa the evil eye. She’d see us and just shake her head, or stand glaring at Lisa with a big frown on her face.

As it turned out, the woman knew I was married, but she didn’t realize Lisa was my wife! She thought we were having a “set romance”—which, believe me, happens on movie sets just as often as you might imagine. But finally, someone told her Lisa and I were married, and she sheepishly came up and apologized to Lisa, who just laughed it off. Lisa had already dealt with a few women on other sets who disliked her
because
she was married to me, so this probably felt like a relief.

I’d always said that the perfect woman for me is someone who’s interested in all the things I like to do—not someone who says, “No, I don’t want to get my hair wet!” When we were shooting
Steel Dawn,
I saw once again how open Lisa was to new experiences. She loved going out into the desert, and
loved learning everything about Africa. Spiritually and emotionally, we’re just amazingly compatible.

After we wrapped
Steel Dawn,
we went on a safari, staying at the same place—Mala Mala—where Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton were married. It was incredibly romantic, a beautiful bungalow situated in the lush African landscape. By the end of our time in Africa, we felt refreshed and renewed. And it was a good thing, too—because when we got back to the United States and
Dirty Dancing
exploded into theaters, our relationship would be tested like never before.

The Deauville American Film Festival takes place every year in a beautiful resort town on France’s Normandy coast. It’s a prestigious festival, attended by the biggest movie stars, directors, and producers in the world. And in 1987, to our excitement, the organizers chose
Dirty Dancing
to open the festival.

Emile and Eleanor both flew to Deauville for the screening, and Lisa and I joined them there. We weren’t sure what kind of reception the movie would get, since the French are very discerning moviegoers, and this was just a modest little film about 1960s America. We settled into our balcony seats and waited nervously as the lights dimmed. And as we watched
Dirty Dancing
all the way through for just the second time, I was struck again by how well it had turned out. But we still weren’t sure what the audience was thinking.

When the movie ended and the lights came on, we stood up to leave. But all of a sudden, everyone in the theater turned around, looked up at us in the balcony, and broke into a thundering standing ovation that must have gone on for five minutes. Emile, Eleanor, Lisa, and I just stood there, dumbstruck,
as the audience whooped and applauded. It was an incredibly gratifying moment, and gave us our first hint about how this “little movie” would ultimately be received.

A party had been planned for after the screening, and it seemed as if half of Deauville showed up. After a sit-down dinner, the music came on, and everyone danced into the wee hours of the morning, trying out their dirty-dancing moves and bringing a little bit of Lake Lure to the French coast. It was the perfect kickoff to a crazy time.

Dirty Dancing
opened in the United States on August 21, 1987. It shot to the number-two spot, and within ten days it had sold more than $10 million in tickets—a huge amount back then. People went to see it multiple times, starting a trend that would ultimately shoot the grosses to more than $60 million in 1987 alone.
Dirty Dancing,
made for just over $5 million, was on its way to becoming a bona fide phenomenon.

If
North and South
had made me a household name,
Dirty Dancing
blew the lid off. It was everywhere you looked—on TV, in magazines and newspapers, and playing on multiple screens at the cineplexes. People dissected Johnny and Baby’s relationship, debated about Penny’s abortion, and talked about their own relationships with their fathers. We had never dreamed the movie would become anywhere near this big. But suddenly we were engulfed in a total whirlwind.

Lisa and I had gotten used to people stopping us on the street and asking for autographs, but now everything got turned up a few more notches. Rather than having a couple of people approach us politely, we were getting mobbed. People were knocking on the windows of our car, surrounding us as we walked into restaurants. Paparazzi began trailing us and even hanging around outside Rancho Bizarro, waiting for us
to come out. We were thrilled at the success of
Dirty Dancing,
but on the other hand, it was becoming harder and harder to live anything like a normal life outside the haven of our ranch.

It’s hard to describe exactly what it feels like to be thrust into this kind of fame, but “whirlwind” comes pretty close. Everything around you is just spinning. You try to touch it, to get a grasp on it, but it just spins faster and faster. If I had found myself in the middle of something like this when I was younger, when I first came to Hollywood, it probably would have destroyed me. In many ways, dealing with fame is the purest form of dealing with your demons.

The easiest way to destroy people is to give them exactly what they want. You might not realize it at the time, but the struggle to achieve something is, in many ways, much more satisfying than actually getting it. The very act of striving is what keeps you alive, and it keeps you grounded. But then, when the thing you’ve been fighting for is suddenly in your grasp, it’s all too easy to look around and say—is that all there is?

Also, despite how proud I was of finally making it big, I was also torn about how I’d finally gotten to this place. All the fears I had about giving in to “dancer-turned-actor” typecasting were crystallized one evening when Lisa and I happened to catch a segment about
Dirty Dancing
on
Entertainment Tonight.

We were getting ready to go out of town, and had the TV on in the background as we were packing. I heard the announcer say something like, “After the break, Patrick Swayze bumps and grinds his way into movie history!” My heart sank. I turned and looked at Lisa, who just shook her head. This was it—my worst nightmare come to life. I’d worked so hard to be taken seriously, and now this would be my legacy. I was definitely
proud of the movie, but “bumping and grinding” was not what I wanted to be remembered for.

Yet it wasn’t only my role as Johnny Castle that was stirring up the whirlwind. The
Dirty Dancing
soundtrack, made for just two hundred thousand dollars, also shot to number one on the Billboard charts—and it stayed there for eighteen weeks. “She’s Like the Wind,” the single I wrote with Stacy Widelitz and performed with Wendy Fraser, went to number three on the Billboard Hot 100 chart and number one on Contemporary Adult. Along with “I’ve Had the Time of My Life,” it became one of the signature songs of
Dirty Dancing
.

Lisa and I flew to New York City for a record signing at the height of the
Dirty Dancing
craze. I was scheduled to sign copies from nine or ten o’clock in the morning, but when the reps picked us up in a limo and brought us to the Sam Goody store, we could see that people were already lined up all the way around the block and beyond. “They’ve been lining up since about 6:00 A.M.,” one guy told us, “just sitting out there on the sidewalk.”

The limo pulled up outside the store, and about fifteen security guys materialized to shepherd us through the crowds. Everyone started screaming when Lisa and I got out of the car—it was a madhouse. We had to go only twenty feet or so, from the curb to the door, but hundreds of women were pressing in, trying to get a glimpse of us. The noise was deafening, and the whole experience was absolutely surreal.

When we made it into the store, we could see all the fans outside, lined up and pressing against the huge plate-glass windows. It was a vast sea of humanity, waiting for a few seconds of conversation, maybe a snapshot, and an autograph. My head was spinning, taking everything in, when the guy
from the store leaned down and said to me, “Now you know what it’s like to be the Beatles.” And he was right. Looking out those windows was just like looking at those vintage reels of screaming fans.

But strangely enough, when you’re in a sea of people like that, it’s actually a very lonely feeling. I was glad to have Lisa at my side, glad not to be facing this pandemonium alone. She stayed nearby as I smiled until my face hurt and signed so many CDs that my hand began to cramp. I kept going well past the allotted time, because I couldn’t imagine turning someone away who’d waited for hours on the sidewalk, and who was looking for only a few seconds of my time. So we stayed and stayed, until the last person had gotten through the line.

And it was like that every time people wanted autographs. If one person stopped me on the sidewalk to sign something, and someone else came up, then another, I’d end up standing there until everyone had come and gone. Once, at a baseball game, I must have signed a thousand autographs. These people were paying me the ultimate compliment, and the last thing I wanted was for anyone to walk away thinking I had too big a head to find a moment for them. It was my Texas manners coming through, but also my desire to be liked.

This could be hard on Lisa, though, especially if we needed to get somewhere, or we were hungry, or just needed to go to the bathroom. Once I even made her stand in the snow, shivering in the cold in high heels and a little dress. Learning how to balance the needs of the fans with Lisa’s needs, and my own, was a process that took some time.

The one thing I couldn’t abide was when people got aggressive. I’ll spend all day accommodating you if you’re polite about it, but if you’re rude, that’s another story. But even so,
when people did get rude, I was still never comfortable just walking away. I wanted to find a way to turn the energy positive again.