Jay Rohr
In October 1976, Car Wash danced into theaters hoping to showcase a light-hearted look at a segment of working-class culture. It specifically aimed at eyeing African American folks in Los Angeles. What it managed to capture is a moment in time that may still resonate today but is mainly isolated by insights into its own era.
The movie is a slice-of-life look at employees of the Dee-luxe car wash in downtown Los Angeles. The motley crew of good-natured individuals are a wonderful mix of mostly mirthful personalities. Any animosity is quickly calmed by a sense of comradery. Each has their own struggle, while they collectively toil in a low paying job, often made worse by the antics of the comically absurd white customers.
For instance, there’s Floyd and Lloyd, played by Darrow Igus (The Fog) and DeWayne Jessie (Animal House). The two are aspiring singers, who practice their dance routines while cleaning cars, turning towel service into a cabaret. The perplexed expressions of Caucasian customers observing them kind of says it all.
There’s a political element that runs throughout the feature. Whatever candy-coating Car Wash has, there’s a certain quality to its comedy like caramel sticking to teeth in unpleasant ways. Although not as gritty as films like Five Easy Pieces (1970), Rocky (1976), or Taking Off (1971), a certain political fatigue mixed with recession woes pervades the movie’s atmosphere. For instance, everyone is tired of countercultural rhetoric as evidenced by the backlash against the militant Abdullah (Bill Duke), and especially the eyeroll inducing love of Mao expressed by the business owner’s son.
Car Wash presents a group of people who simply want to make it through the day. Narratively this plays out in a series of loosely linked vignettes. These either involve customer interactions, various pranks by the employees to pass the time, or delving into slices of the lives on display. Though the portraits aren’t always complete, the movie often gives enough for an impressionistic sense of the players.
T.C. played by stand-up comedian Franklyn Ajaye (Stir Crazy) has comic book aspirations, but his main interest is a romantic desire to be with waitress Mona (Tracy Reed). Lonnie (Nothing but a Man) is a gruff ex-con struggling to stay cool for fear of losing his one chance to stay free. Garrett Morris, member of the first Saturday Night Live cast, plays a bookie with grifter tendencies who eventually goes down for parking ticket violations. And the majority of such details are conveyed by crisp, clever dialogue.
The characters are revealed through their interactions. There are no exposition dumps, rather the kind of exchanges any coworkers might have. These often involve expressing their interests and aspirations, but it can also mean getting a sense of various personalities when they playfully tease one another. That said, plenty of actions speak for themselves. At one point, the character Abdullah reveals a sensitive side when someone stumbles on him playing saxophone alone in the dark locker room. Pepe Serna (Scarface) as Chuco is obviously a prankster because the audience sees him performing pranks and getting as good as he gives courtesy of his buddy Goody played by Henry Kingi (Predator 2). Then there’s the snobby Earl (Leonard Jackson), who acts superior to his colleagues because he waxes cars and doesn’t get wet.
Of course, not all these displays would fly today. The least likely is probably the portrayal of Lindy by Antonia Fargas (Across 110th Street). The character is unapologetically gay in a way rarely expressed at the time. Case in point, the television edit removed as much of the character as possible, replacing Lindy with deleted diner scenes starring Danny Devito. Since 2013, though, the theatrical version is available with all scenes restored.
The character contrasts the more macho bravado of the other main male roles, and while the effeminate genderfluidity of the part may not be acceptable by contemporary standards, it wasn’t at all common to have such an openly gay character portrayed with any degree of humanity. Plus, Lindy is hardly defenseless, verbally besting a homophobe by saying, “Honey, I am more man than you’ll ever be and more woman than you’ll ever get.”
Car Wash has some predictable flaws given it’s a raunchy ensemble comedy from an era with very different values from now. Yet, there’s a glimpse of progress being made in the way certain roles are presented. Still, the women could certainly use better writing. Lorraine Gary (Jaws) is reduced to a part credited as “Hysterical Woman”, while Mona, a prostitute played by the director’s wife Lauren Jones (Juice), seems to have implications of story.
Like a lot of the film, there are loose threads by the end. Not every plotline wraps up neatly. In fact, some come to melancholy conclusions. At risk of spoilers, Abdullah gets fired and tries to rob the car wash only to be talked out of it by Lonnie, who knows all too well that path leads nowhere. Jack Kehoe (The Sting) spends the entire feature worrying he may have contracted an STD while cheating on his romantic partner. When she arrives at the business to hurl a suitcase at him, implying he can’t come home, the last shot of him is a fellow in denim and a cowboy hat walking off down a dark road.
Cinematically, Car Wash grew out of the roots of blaxsploitation. Hollywood not only saw they could make money off African American oriented movies, but the door was also cracked open an inch or two allowing for more diversity on and off screen. This included primarily black casts as well as directors. Fortunately, Car Wash ended up in the hands of someone with a sense of style.
Director Michael Schultz was hot off the success of Cooley High (1975). The coming-of-age comedy-drama about high school seniors in Chicago’s Near Northside, circa 1984, is generally considered “a touchstone for filmmakers like John Singleton and Spike Lee.” The movie opens with a shot of the Chicago skyline then the camera pans across apartments and finally zooms in on row houses in the Cabrini-Green projects. This sense of style can be caught in little events throughout Car Wash that make even minor moments interesting.
When a rowdy skater kid rolls through the wash causing a ruckus, his exit involves running through a gauntlet of the employees. They thwap his backside with wet towels as he hurriedly skateboards to escape, and the camera follows him out, stopping on a sign that reads “Thank You, Please Come Again!” Later, the camera tracks the preacher Big Daddy Rich (Richard Pryor) as his limo leaves. All the employees wave joyfully, appreciating his visit. But the camera keeps moving, panning over to reveal the business owner returning to the lot. The second the boss is seen every grin vanishes.
Those little visual touches add vibrance to simple bits. Car Wash contains a kinetic quality; its presentation mirroring the sense of a workday that never slows down. Moreover, the movie is a testament to how something mildly amusing can be elevated by the right presentation. Of course, it doesn’t hurt having a solid script to follow. That map came courtesy of someone seeking a road to the director’s chair by way of being a writer, Joel Schumacher.
“Producers Art Linson and Gary Stromberg initially conceived Car Wash as a musical comedy for the stage, hoping to repeat the success of Jesus Christ Superstar (1973) and Tommy (1975).” Universal Pictures passed on the idea of a stage play inspired by an album but had faith in a film. Producers gave the writing job to Schumacher after seeing his script for Sparkle (1976), a musical rags to riches drama that explored the influence of Harlem music and culture on the wider world as well as themes of black power.
What’s interesting is that Car Wash is as close to a musical as one can get without having any music numbers. Similar to The Warriors (1979) or Reservoir Dogs (1992), there is a diegetic radio station heard throughout the film. The fictional “KGYS” is voiced by real-life disc jockeys such as J. J. Jackson, Sarina C. Grant, Jay Butler, Rod McGrew, and Cleveland’s Billy Bass. They play songs which would go on to be Billboard charting classics courtesy of Rose Royce. In fact, the Grammy Award-winning soundtrack served as the band’s debut album.
Composed by one of the “architects of Motown” Norman Whitfield, Car Wash is a funky blend of soulful, groovy tunes, many of which capitalized on the emerging disco style. Rose Royce would soar to success on tracks like “Car Wash”, “I Wanna Get Next to You”, and “I’m Going Down”. The album is full of dance inducing disco beats, fresh funk riffs, and invigorating string arrangements, not to mention smooth soul reminiscent of Whitfield’s work with The Temptations. It’s easy to imagine the original intentions of the production, especially while watching the only musical performance, a scene featuring the Pointer Sisters delivering “You Gotta Believe”.
While the soundtrack is almost worth listening to alone, there is one peculiar quality to the film. Legendary comedians Richard Pryor and George Carlin have very small roles in Car Wash. Yet, any advertising seems to imply they are main characters rather than peripheral parts. Pryor has the bigger of the two. He plays a shady preacher of the prosperity gospel; an early example of the megachurch moocher society is all too familiar with now. He literally arrives in a gold painted 1974 Lincoln Continental stretch limousine, wearing a diamond cross, then proceeds to ask for money.
Carlin’s role may be smaller but is no less fabulous. He plays a liberal cab driver who spends the movie searching for Marleen after she jumps out of his taxi instead of paying the fare. Yet, despite his early declarations of not being racist, the cabbie can’t seem to tell her apart from any other black woman. As such, both roles embody satisfying satire, but they aren’t the stars.
There’s no main role. Car Wash is closer to flicks like Caddyshack (1980) or Meatballs (1979). Meanwhile, according to Joel Schumacher, Car Wash took a page from the works of Robert Altmen. There’s a large ensemble, each with their own plot threads, which weave an overall tapestry. However, there isn’t exactly a central storyline other than events in the lives of various people.
On the Venn diagram of cinematic styles, Car Wash slips into a bit of Italian Neorealism. Such films typically dealt with ordinary lives, depicting them without much pizzazz. And though it is a bit of a stretch to say Car Wash echoes the melancholy poetic realism of Bicycle Thieves (1948), art doesn’t grow in a vacuum. The similarities don’t have to be exact to exist. The two films stylistically harmonize even if they don’t perfectly rhyme.
If nothing else, Car Wash ended up being the first film by an African American director screened in competition at Cannes. That wouldn’t happen again until Spike Lee delivered Do the Right Thing (1989). The movie’s overall success would then help propel Michael Schultz along a career path directing television, theater, and others movies, ultimately landing him in the Black Filmmakers Hall of Fame.
Not every critic enjoyed the movie. Many disliked the crass humor as well as the fact the film didn’t seem to say anything. However, as critic Charles Champlin observed, “the joking and jiving is understood to be just what it is, a way of dealing with the world.” In other words, “if Car Wash makes no comment on our pop culture, it’s because it’s a piece of it.”
When a film captures the zeitgeist, some people won’t see it. Yet, it then endures as a kind of time capsule. Locked in its own decade, the movie can’t really evolve with the times even if down the line critiques soften as viewers realize the value. That’s the sad truth about a lot of perceptive comedies. They’re rarely insightful outside their era.
