Few directors defined the 1970s quite like Hal Ashby, mainly because nearly his entire career (or rather the aspects that are most memorable about it), were contained in this decade – prior to his directorial debut with The Landlord, we was an acclaimed editor, and his later output after Being There paled in comparison to his more notable work, particularly because it seemed like he had lost the spark that made him such an interesting cinematic voice. We’ve spoken about him at length in the past, and the general sentiment that has always followed him around has been that he is a filmmaker whose distinctive voice was far stronger than his reputation as a journeyman filmmaker would suggest, and he made several tremendous films that were guided by his unique vision. Nestled right at the heart of his peak period is Shampoo, which many have mostly attributed to being a vehicle for its beguiling star more than belonging to Ashby (especially not when the film was written in collaboration with Robert Towne, who had just had enormous success with Chinatown the previous year), which somehow overlooks the director’s impeccable contribution to this peculiar but captivating comedy. The film follows a day in the life of a hairdresser who has to navigate various obstacles relating to the bevvy of women with whom he has been engaging in affairs, which becomes even more of a challenge when they all begin to demand his attention concurrently, his various relationships starting to intersect, causing him to be plunged into a state of confusion and existential angst as he attempts to juggle them all in an effort to not lose any of them, ultimately discovering that he has essentially gone beyond salvation. A charming, upbeat and wickedly funny comedy that features the best from everyone involved, and which functions as a captivating glimpse into a particular time in American culture, there are multiple reasons why Shampoo has become definitive of this decade, both artistically and in terms of the stories being told.

There are many qualities that we can celebrate about Ashby’s directorial approach, but one of the most interesting is that he was capable of making films that focus on the intricate minutiae of everyday life, and while there may be some degree of plot progression, this is oddly quite incidental to the story, with the main thrust of the film being a vaguely stream-of-consciousness approach that veers away from being too heavy-handed in terms of telling a particular story. Nothing much happens throughout Shampoo – we follow the protagonist over the course of roughly a single day, watching him make his way through a variety of parties and work-related commitments, with a few sexual encounters occurring in between. Setting it in quite a limited time frame allowed for the film to actually ruminate on a number of themes, rather than following a more conventional approach, which would have prevented it from having the time to develop the more subtle ideas that form the foundation of the film. Tonally, Shampoo is a free-wheeling, liberal examination of this era, told through a series of moments in the lives of these characters. Ashby, along with the writers, makes use of a very distinct approach to exploring the daily routine of these characters, and while it is not necessarily a revolutionary approach (especially when we have films like The Taking of Pelham One Two Three and Nashville made almost concurrently that also utilize a very limited time frame, amongst many others), but under Ashby’s assured direction, which is always about finding the right tone and delivering the story in a way that captures a very specific mood, it starts to feel quite profound, the simplicity being one of the many aspects that elevate Shampoo above the other run-of-the-mill romantic comedies that were being produced at the same time. It’s not the definitive entry into the genre for a number of reasons, but its slightly experimental approach, coupled with its strong narrative foundation, makes it extremely effective.

The narrative approach to exploring a single day and night in the life of the protagonist is primarily done as a way to showcase his philandering ways as well as his efforts to maintain a consistent social life along with his professional endeavours, all of which come together to form quite a riveting portrait of the quintessential 1970s lothario. Yet, there is a lot more to the film than initially meets the eye, and we find that even if we view it as an obvious starring vehicle for its lead actor, there is a lot more complexity to Shampoo than we would initially expect. In many ways, this is a film that was sincerely ahead of its time, for several reasons. Primarily, it was focused on looking at the myth of prosperity that has continuously been peddled to the American people, but which reached a fever-pitch in the 1970s, where the combination of the Civil Rights Movement and other socio-cultural causes, and the tense political atmosphere that lingered heavily over the population, led to some fascinating observations. Masculinity in particular is the focus for most of the film, with the idea of this dashing and handsome hairdresser being an irresistible force to every female client he encounters (despite the common stereotype that those in this profession are often homosexual, an irony that the film openly acknowledges as the source of some of its funniest moments) setting a strong theoretical foundation for the film’s examination of gender politics at this very particular moment in the culture’s history. This is a film in which the central male protagonist believes that he is a gift to humanity as a result of his supposed allure and charisma, which ultimately proves to be quite limited, since nearly every woman that he thinks he has control over turns out to be fiercely independent, and viewed him as nothing more than a lovable plaything, an easily disposable partner that bears very little relevance to their broader lives, and who exists as a distraction from their day-to-day existence more than anything else. Surprisingly, a film made at this point was so intent on being such a fervent deconstruction of the masculine psyche, but it all speaks to the desire to present a very different side of the culture, which proves to be one of the main reasons behind the film’s major success.

At a cursory glance, you would imagine Shampoo was designed to be nothing more than a film in which Warren Beatty plays a thinly veiled version of himself, surrounded by some of the most alluring actors working at the time, almost as a means to show that he was able to attract just about anyone. Yet, this perception doesn’t last long before we realize just how deep the film is, and the extent to which Beatty is riffing on his reputation in a way that borders on self-deprecation, crafting a portrait of this slightly pathetic man who genuinely believes he is some irresistible force of nature, when in reality he’s barely a factor in the lives of any of the women he believes he has under his command. Beatty is having a lot of fun with the role, and it comes across as one of his loosest, most free-form performances, particularly because he didn’t need to expend too much energy to maintain his image, since it was essentially the aspect that was being consistently deconstructed throughout the film. It’s the supporting cast that does most of the substantial work, with the trio of Goldie Hawn, Julie Christie and Lee Grant (reuniting with Ashby after their acclaimed collaboration in The Landlord a few years prior) being the heart of the film, and ultimately the reason it works so well in practice. Hawn sets aside her ditzy, airheaded act to play a more grounded, realistic character, whereas Christie is the embodiment of elegance as the only person the protagonist truly loves, and who gradually grows tired of his volatile approach to their budding relationship. Grant is surprisingly endearing, playing this patrician older woman who would be a thinly-veiled archetype in the hands of nearly any other actor, but who is brought to life brilliantly by Grant, who steals nearly every scene in which she appears. Beatty may be the anchor at the heart of the film, but it’s these women that make Shampoo worth watching, their performances incredibly captivating and genuinely quite moving, especially when it comes to how the film tackles the themes surrounding gender politics and the role of women in this particular era of American culture,  which is ultimately the driving force behind the film.

Over time, reactions to Shampoo have tended to deviate in several ways – some view it as an entertaining but otherwise quite dated glimpse into gender politics and the atmosphere that lingered heavily over the 1970s, while others see the merit in how it tackles some very broad subjects long before they were constantly part of the cultural discourse, making this a film that was radically ahead of its time. In either instance, the merits are almost universally acknowledged – strong performances set the foundation for a very simple narrative, which examines the dynamic between men and women at a pivotal time in the country’s history, looking at how the spectre of the “free love” spread during the 1960s was distorted almost to the point of becoming vaguely grotesque under the sometimes harsh social and cultural conventions of the 1970s, a radically different decade in which life was quite different for these people. The efforts to dismiss it as nothing more than a vehicle for Beatty and his desperate attempts to assert dominance as the industry’s most coveted bachelor are likely only taking this film at face value, and not acknowledging the depths to which it is willing to leap when it is appropriate. Hilariously entertaining and genuinely captivating in various ways, Shampoo has aged exceptionally well, and while it’s far from the defining text in terms of both the genre and the ideas embedded within, its mainstream appeal and willingness to have these difficult conversations ultimately prove to be the foundation for a terrific, complex film that is as enjoyable as it is thought-provoking, a common trait for these layered comedies that seem to be focused on one idea on the surface, but are far more nuanced than we’d anticipate.