Madonna

by J. Randy Taraborrelli

  “What’s this all about?” Sean said bitterly as he walked over to them.

  “Oh, get lost, Sean,” Madonna told him. “We’re just talking.”

  Without a second’s hesitation, Sean picked up his wife and, in one quick motion, threw her into the pool. The crowd of about thirty seemed stricken. As they watched, Madonna swam leisurely to the shallow end of the pool and then climbed its few steps. Dripping wet and without saying a word, she walked across the patio and into the house. “She never came back out,” recalls the friend.

  Earlier in 1986, Madonna and Penn were dining at Helena’s, one of their favorite restaurants in Los Angeles, when an old friend, David Wolinsky (from the group Rufus featuring Chaka Khan), approached her at their table, bent over and gave her an innocent kiss in greeting. Immediately enraged by the gesture, Penn leaped from his chair and attacked Wolinsky, beating and kicking him. The attack ended only when shocked onlookers managed to restrain Penn. Madonna was humiliated. “She looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole,” recalled one witness. “I remember watching her as she glared at Sean and thinking to myself, she’s starting to hate him.”

  “He was a hothead,” says David Wolinsky. “I did nothing but greet his wife, someone I knew before he had married her. It was completely unprovoked. I wondered what she was doing married to that creep.”

  Though her marriage with Sean seemed to be falling apart, she wasn’t able to focus completely on repairing it for she was a busy woman with a thriving career. Constantly, she was distracted by the business at hand. “There’s no time to figure out how to handle Sean,” she despaired. “I barely have time to sleep.”

  Sean Penn had bounced back after the Shanghai Surprise fiasco and was busy at work on a gritty cop film, Colors, with Dennis Hopper. Meanwhile, Madonna was considering several scripts for herself. Influenced by her love for old Hollywood, she was keen to do a remake of Judy Holliday’s smash 1950 comedy Born Yesterday, or Marlene Dietrich’s star-making role in the 1929 drama The Blue Angel. As for new scripts, she was offered something called Blind Date and an early version of Evita (which would remain in development for years). However, she was most eager to appear in a film that had a Carole Lombard screwball-comedy flavor to it. Called Slammer, it was about a madcap blonde, Nikki Finn (Madonna), who, after being released from jail for a crime she did not commit, sets out to find the man who framed her. The usual screwball complications ensue, including chase scenes, mobsters and a 160-pound cougar. A deal was made; filming began in New York. Perhaps because Sean was now awaiting sentence on the assault charges, the name of the movie was changed from Slammer (which, her handlers reasoned, was where Penn was destined) to Who’s That Girl?

  Meanwhile, in Los Angeles, Sean’s volatile temper continued to get him in trouble when he attacked a thirty-two-year-old actor on the set of Colors. As the young extra knelt on the sidelines with a camera, hoping for a good shot, Sean appeared from seemingly nowhere. He knocked the camera from the extra’s hands. “You bastard,” Sean snarled, “don’t take any pictures of me between takes.” Then, he punched him in the face.

  Who’s That Girl?

  Although Madonna would publicize the movie heavily, posing for many magazine covers à la Marilyn Monroe, Who’s That Girl?would go on to become another box-office bomb, no doubt because its star was trying so hard to be so many different things she was not. By appropriating a Judy Holliday voice, along with Marilyn Monroe’s hair and makeup for a movie that seemed somehow designed for Carole Lombard, Madonna proved she was not up to any of the tasks at hand. Varietycalled the film “a rattling failure,” while most of the other reviews were no better.

  So far on the screen, Madonna had been most successful in Desperately Seeking Susan, a film in which she had exploited so many of her own personal characteristics — in essence playing herself. Had she continued to brand her performances with her own unique and, by now, identifiable persona (at least until she was more skilled at developing characters), her movie career might have ignited in the same way as her musical career. However, in trying to create a popular character for Who’s That Girl? by imitating her movie idols rather than using her own personality, Madonna just came across as annoyingly cloying. “I don’t like that movie,” she would say in February 2000. “Don’t like my performance in it. Any other movie I did, I would say there are things in it that are good. Or I think my performance was good, but the movie wasn’t. Who’s That Girl? I think all of it was pretty bad.”

  If Madonna was worried that the failure of the movie meant that her star was fading, she needn’t have been concerned. After all, she still had that amazing recording career.

  As soundtracks go, 1987’s Who’s That Girl? was not much of one in the conventional sense, but rather a collection of nine songs from the movie. While Madonna only had four tracks on the album, each was important because, conceivably, it meant the album could sell on the strength of her presence alone. Still a fresh commodity and successful at her career, twenty-nine-year-old Madonna was not only one of the hottest artists in popular music, but one with obvious and incredible staying power. Who’s That Girl? was a relatively low-budget film with a cast of actors who weren’t going to be receiving Oscars anytime in the near future, so to Warner Bros. Records, the soundtrack was at least as important as the film.

  When Madonna was presented with the challenge of writing and producing the film’s title song, she got together with Steve Bray and Patrick Leonard, her co-writers/producers, and went to work. Meanwhile, other slots in the album were filled mostly by obscure Warner Bros. Records’ acts, like Club Nouveau, Michael Davidson and Scritti Politti.

  It was of course Madonna who delivered the hits that kept the Who’s That Girl? soundtrack out of record-store bargain bins. The title track and first single, written and produced by Madonna with Leonard, were quintessential Madonna music — funky, sassy and melodic, with a Latin accent. It wasted no time in going to Number 1 on the Billboard singles charts.

  The soundtrack’s second single, Bray’s party “groove,” “Causing a Commotion,” did just that on both international dance floors and the U.S. singles chart, climbing all the way to Number 2. The other two Madonna tracks — “The Look of Love,” an exotic Madonna/Leonard ballad, and the uptempo dance number, “Can’t Stop,” another Madonna/Bray creation — were strategically left on the soundtrack album to induce LP sales. It worked. The Who’s That Girl? album ended up selling more than a million copies in the United States and five million worldwide.

  Riding on Madonna’s coattails proved profitable for everyone involved, including Warner Bros. Records, which notched up big sales with a compilation that was basically a showcase for its marginal artists; the artists and producers themselves, most of whom were never involved in a project as successful, before or since; and Peter Guber and Jon Peters, the film’s producers, for whom the album’s brisk sales served as the bright spot in a film enterprise whose overall success could be deemed modest at best.

  Meanwhile, it was during 1987’s “Who’s That Girl?” tour that the public first saw Madonna’s new updated, sleek look in concert — a look uncluttered by bangles, jewelry and other accessories (although Mr. Blackwell would still add her to his infamous list of worst-dressed women that year).

  The “Who’s That Girl?” tour was musically and technically superior to Madonna’s first concert appearances in that she incorporated multimedia components to make the show even more compelling. For example, huge video screens projected images of the Pope and Ronald Reagan as she belted out “Papa Don’t Preach.” She had more confidence in her stage presence, her music was showing a deeper maturity, her voice was fuller, and the show was expertly choreographed with complicated numbers. She was mobbed in London, and in Japan a thousand troops had to restrain a crowd of 25,000 hysterical fans who turned up to greet her at the airport.

  Many female artists behave like a diva for a period when they reach superstar status, and the “Who’s That Girl?” tour mark
ed the beginning of Madonna’s. For instance, she wouldn’t allow crew members to talk directly to her; they had to talk to her representatives lest they distract her from the business at hand. She has, to this day, a difficult time giving names to faces and so, rather than struggle to do so, she’d rather not meet anyone she’s not going to have to know for a long period of time. (Early in her career, there were times when she wasn’t able to remember the names of lovers the morning after. One assistant who accompanied Madonna during evenings on the town would be sure to place a note on her kitchen counter with the consort’s name written on it, just in case she forgot.)

  Her dancers too were told never to address her, a far cry from the rapport she would establish with her troupe later, on the “Blonde Ambition” tour. Her musicians were not permitted even to look at her, unless they were onstage with her. Moreover, when coming on and off the stage, Madonna demanded that road managers hold sheets around her in order to shield her from the eyes of those who couldn’t help but stare at her because, after all, she was Madonna. Her dressing room at each stop along the way had to be redecorated to her specifications with new carpeting, fresh paint (always pink), new furniture . . . and so much Mexican food it would have taken an army to eat it all. “She has a way of demanding that compels you to give her your undivided attention,” Freddy DeMann says, diplomatically.

  One evening, at a very late hour, Freddy DeMann’s assistant, Melinda Cooper, received a telephone call from Madonna. She was expecting a limousine to take her to a party, and it hadn’t yet arrived.

  “The goddamn car isn’t here yet,” Madonna said, fuming. “It’s, like, fifteen minutes late, Melinda.”

  “It’ll be there soon,” Melinda recalls replying patiently.

  “Why, you idiot,” Madonna screamed at her through the telephone. “It’s your job to get the limousine here on time, Melinda. Do you know how much I have to do?” she asked, her temper rising. “I have a lot to do, Melinda, and all you have to do is get the car here on time. And can you do it? No you cannot. What in the world is wrong with you, Melinda?”

  “But, Madonna . . .” Melinda began.

  “Don’t ‘But, Madonna’ me,” she said, interrupting her. “Look, here’s the deal: if the fucking car isn’t here in five minutes, you’re finished.”

  Madonna hung up.

  Melinda Cooper burst into tears.

  You Can Dance

  In November 1987, Warner Bros. Records quickly followed Who’s That Girl? with the one-two punch of You Can Dance.

  In any business, there’s nothing quite like the windfall created by being able to sell something to somebody twice and, in the recording industry, popular music is the gift that keeps on giving. At the major record labels, greatest hits and catalog sales packages (the various albums in an artist’s career) have always accounted for a good portion of annual profits. In the 1980s, something else came along to enhance the companies’ bottom lines: the “remix album.” Thanks to the popularity of post-disco dance music, many fans now wanted to hear how some of their favorite songs would sound if the music was reworked, or “remixed,” to enhance the song’s danceability.

  Remix albums — collections of already popular songs enhanced in the studio to alter their tempo and sound — are common today, but in the 1980s it was a revolutionary concept. The remix process itself was a holdover from the days of disco, when producers would remix pop/R&B recordings specifically for the disco market and then issue long-playing, twelve-inch dance singles of the songs in addition to the original, shorter versions. At first, the labels would supply these disco versions only to the DJs spinning records in clubs across the country. However, soon fans wanted to own the versions of songs they’d danced to the night before, so the labels made the versions available in record stores. Suddenly, the disco — and the club DJ — became a great catalyst for labels to promote dance music, in the way Top 40 radio (and later MTV) sells pop, rock and soul. The most skillful club DJs were often hired by the labels to remix the disco tracks, and, for some, remix assignments eventually led to them actually producing records.

  By the eighties, with post-disco dance music in full swing, the remix concept had truly come into its own. By then, several artists’ tracks were being remixed and compiled to make up an album. Madonna, the most important dance artist of the period, led the charge with You Can Dance, a compilation of remixes of seven of her more uptempo songs.

  How does one bring more “danceability” to songs that were crafted specifically to get people onto dance floors in the first place? Probably by hiring remixers who are most familiar with the material, in this case, Jellybean Benitez. Also on board was Shep Pettibone, a popular remixer who’d earlier engineered more dance rhythm into Madonna’s single “True Blue.”

  You Can Dance made one point clear about Madonna. While she was evolving into a serious pop star, musically she still knew how to host the best party. The new and pumped-up versions of “Holiday” (two different versions), “Everybody,” “Physical Attraction,” “Over and Over,” “Into the Groove” and “Where’s the Party” took You Can Dance to Number 14 on Billboard’s pop album chart. To further entice music fans, You Can Dance also featured “Spotlight,” a previously unreleased track recorded during the True Bluesessions. The album’s performance both in the charts and in the clubs served as a testament to the quality of the material and the enduring appeal of Madonna.

  With You Can Dance, Madonna may not have initiated a trend but she certainly played her part in jump-starting it. Soon, major acts of the day were following suit with remix LPs of their own, including Bobby Brown’s Dance . . . Ya Know It! and New Kids on the Block’s No More Games/Remix Album.

  “I don’t know that I like it,” she would say, “people screwing with my records, remixing them. The jury is out on it for me. But the fans like it, and really, this one was for the fans, for the kids in the clubs who like these songs and wanted to hear them in a new, fresh way.”

  *

  At the time of the release of You Can Dance in November 1987, Sean Penn had disappeared from Madonna’s life for a number of days. She was frantic with worry. Then, he turned up unexpectedly at her New York apartment, expecting to spend Thanksgiving with her there. She probably didn’t know whether to be furious or relieved. She chose the former. “You’re not spending Thanksgiving here,” she told him. She then informed him that she had already instructed her lawyers to draw up divorce papers. (Her attorneys filed those divorce papers on December 4, 1987. Twelve days later, though, Madonna would withdraw them.)

  “She was completely distraught,” said a friend. “She could see that the marriage was over, and she was really starting to get scared. ‘I don’t want a divorce,’ she told me, ‘but I don’t know what else to do. I’m starting to really hate him. You know that saying that there’s a thin line between love and hate?’ she asked. ‘Well, I think I’ve crossed it. It’s very ugly on the other side, too.’”

  Perhaps one of the reasons Madonna had such a particularly strong reaction to the problems caused by Sean was that her nerves were frayed by the discovery of a lump in her breast shortly before Thanksgiving. Because of her mother’s death, Madonna has always been conscientious about self-examination for signs of cancer. When she found the lump, she feared the worst and called Dr. Jerrold Steiner, a respected Beverly Hills specialist, to make an appointment. She was so upset that she was unable to drive herself to his office and asked a secretary to take her. After examining her, the doctor told her to watch the lump and look for any changes in texture or size. He also suggested seeing her in two weeks to conduct tests. Madonna couldn’t help but be frantic. Two weeks seemed an eternity to wait to handle something that so frightened her. Yet, she was so scared that she canceled the appointment and decided just to, as she put it to one friend, “sit still and try to figure out how to handle this.”

  No doubt, her troubled marriage did little to ease her nerves at this time. Madonna spent Thanksgiving with her sister M
elanie in Brooklyn while Penn flew back to Los Angeles, where he indulged in a drinking binge. While she didn’t say much about the scary lump during the holidays, Madonna did confide to friends that she was confused as to how to handle Sean and his erratic temper. Neither was really mature enough to be able to understand, or help, the other deal with the anger, hurt and insecurities that had turned them into the so-called Battling Penns. “I’m ashamed of how we turned out,” Madonna told her friend. Then, perhaps romanticizing the past, she added, “I think back on our wedding and how wonderful that was. Then, I look at today, and I think, it’s all turned to shit, hasn’t it?”

  John Kennedy, Jr.

  All artists are inspired by others, but perhaps no modern-day entertainer has borrowed as much from so many and with so few alterations as Madonna. Although her hard-as-nails personality, ambition and canny sense for publicity and business are all her own, her “reinventions” of her persona are more often than not inventions created by someone else and then borrowed for a Madonna makeover. In various points in Madonna’s videos, movies, interviews and photo sessions one can see heavy traces of Marlene Dietrich, Judy Holliday, Twiggy and Lana Turner in her looks and attitudes. Even lesser-known performers such as Edie Sedgwick, Andy Warhol’s decadent star of the sixties who starred in his underground films and died of a drug overdose at an early age, seem to have had a big influence on Madonna’s various projects. But perhaps the biggest influence on Madonna’s career has been Marilyn Monroe, the sex symbol from a generation earlier. Fans of both stars can’t help but notice the impact Monroe has had on Madonna’s career, in everything from hair and makeup, expressions and poses for the camera, all the way to paraphrased quotes in interviews. (In fact, some of Madonna’s most famous photo sessions are exact replicas of Monroe’s.)