Not to be confused with the 2003 Helen Mirren comedy with the same title, Maria Loohufvud and Love Martinsen’s documentary nevertheless covers similar ground; namely, women of a “certain age” flaunting what they’ve still got to make a point about female vitality. In the former, this theme was played for both laughs and poignancy, while in the latter it’s presented as an aspect of aging that most people would prefer to ignore. The titular dance troupe, whose members are over 60 and some over 70, performs in various public and private facilities to raise money for charity (usually, helper dogs for veterans). They wear colorful, often purposely ridiculous costumes and come in all shapes and sizes, but for the most part they exude a relaxed sexual confidence in their appearance and limited athletic capabilities. Since they’re based in Florida, most of the facilities where they perform cater to people who are even older than they are, but the film claims they put on more than 130 shows a year, and have been doing this for 14 years, meaning they’ve become something of an institution, though, obviously, one with high turnover.

And while the filmmakers do emphasize the troupe’s aspiration to professionalism with extensive scenes of sweaty rehearsals and interviews that highlight their dedication, what distinguishes the documentary is how they convey what this kind of activity means to these women. The variety of backgrounds and attitudes is impressively diverse. Though most seem to have been homemakers, quite a few are retirees who used to have careers (one used to be a Baltimore cop), and a few still have to work to make a living. Almost all suffer to some degree from health problems, and openly share horror stories about medication and bad insurance. Significantly, almost all are married and look upon their dance activities as a respite from connubial responsibilities that they only take seriously insofar as their husbands insist they do—the few men who appear onscreen at best tolerate their wives’ participation in Calendar Girls. And while the members interviewed look as if they lead nice, middle class lives, the movie gives the impression that their activities fulfill a need that they always knew needed to be fulfilled but couldn’t until now. This realization is poignant in and of itself because they crave some sort of meaning at the end of their lives. One woman who has chronic health problems even talks about assisted suicide in a positive way, as if dancing had been the main item on her bucket list. 

It’s difficult to take in these women’s longings and ambitions and not think about the state (in all the word’s meanings) of Florida, which the current governor has turned into a bastion of intolerance and white male grievance. Here, only the personal is political, and since the directors are Swedish I don’t think they tried to avoid anything that smacked of cultural anxiety. The abandon with which their subjects throw themselves into their art, no matter how corny some people may find it, goes to show that women of any age just wanna have fun and, as a corollary of that desire, hope everyone else can live their lives as they please in the moment. There’s no reason to wait until you’re old. 

Now playing in Tokyo at Uplink Kichijoji (0422-66-5042).

Calendar Girls home page in Japanese