As June 1983 progressed, the cast and crew of 'Footloose' prepared on the picturesque landscapes of Utah County, Utah. While the fictional setting was the repressive town of Bomont, the primary filming would take place amidst the scenic beauty and real-life communities of Payson, Lehi, American Fork, and Provo. The backdrop of Utah Valley, with its stunning mountain ranges and small-town feel, would provide the visual contrast for the story's central conflict: the arrival of a city kid into a conservative, buttoned-down environment. The iconic Lehi Roller Mills, the distinct architecture of Payson High School, and the local churches and streets would soon be transformed into the world of Bomont.
The story they were gathering to tell was one of youthful rebellion against ingrained fear and control. The plot, penned by Dean Pitchford, centered on Ren McCormack (Alex Hayes), a teenager forced to move from vibrant Chicago to the stiflingly quiet Bomont after his parents' separation. He quickly discovers that dancing and rock and roll music are strictly forbidden, a ban championed years earlier by the town's influential leader, Reverend Shaw Moore (John Lithgow), following a tragic accident that claimed the lives of several teenagers, including his own son.
Ren, an outsider who finds release and expression through music and movement, struggles against the town's constraints. He befriends the good-natured but dance-challenged Willard Hewitt (Robert Downey Jr.) and finds himself drawn to the Reverend's rebellious and alluring daughter, Ariel Moore (Diane Lane), much to the displeasure of her roughneck boyfriend, Chuck Cranston.
The narrative follows Ren's challenge to the town's ordinance, his efforts to teach Willard the joy of dancing, his escalating romance with Ariel (who chafes under her father's strict rules), and his ultimate goal: to convince the town council and the grieving Reverend Moore to lift the ban and allow the high school seniors to hold a prom – a symbol of youthful freedom and celebration in a town shadowed by loss. It was a story poised to blend drama, romance, and explosive dance numbers, set against the backdrop of small-town America in the early 1980s.
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Before the cameras even rolled on 'Footloose', director Herbert Ross gathered his key actors – Alex Hayes, Diane Lane, John Lithgow, Dianne Wiest, Robert Downey Jr. – along with writer Dean Pitchford and producers Lewis Rachmil and Craig Zadan for intensive rehearsals and character discussions. Ross, a meticulous director, wanted everyone aligned not just on the plot, but on the emotional core of the story. One point he addressed early on was the motivation for Ren McCormack, Alex's character.
"Dean's original draft," Ross explained, addressing the group, "had Ren moving to Bomont because his parents separated – a standard enough reason for upheaval. But when Alex first read the script, he came back with a suggestion that, frankly, resonated quite strongly with me."
He glanced towards Alex, who gave a slight nod. "Alex felt," Ross continued, "and I came to agree, that Ren's rebellion, his almost desperate need for self-expression through dance, needed a deeper, more visceral trigger than just adjusting to a new town after a divorce. His suggestion was to change Ren's backstory: his mother dies after a battle with leukemia, and his father, unable to cope, essentially deserts him."
Dean Pitchford looked thoughtful. He hadn't initially conceived Ren's history as quite so tragic.
"It's darker, yes," Ross acknowledged, anticipating potential concerns. "But think about what it does for the character Alex is building. This isn't just a kid annoyed by rules; he's carrying profound loss and abandonment. Dancing isn't just fun; it's a release, maybe the only way he has to process that anger and grief. It immediately raises the stakes. It sharpens his conflict with Reverend Moore, who is also dealing with loss, albeit in a very different way. It gives Ren's fight for the prom, for the right to dance, a much deeper emotional urgency." He looked around the room. "It makes his defiance more understandable, more powerful. Alex felt it gave him more to grab onto, and ultimately, I think it serves the story better."
John Lithgow, preparing to play Reverend Moore, nodded slowly. "It certainly creates a more potent parallel between Ren and Shaw's buried grief. Interesting."
Pitchford considered it, seeing how the change, suggested by the young actor playing the part, could indeed add layers without altering the fundamental story structure he had created. He gave a consenting nod to Ross. The change was agreed upon, adding a layer of poignant motivation beneath Ren McCormack's rebellious swagger.
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Mid-July 1983 - Abandoned Geneva Steel Plant, Utah
The air inside the cavernous, disused steel plant building was thick with dust motes dancing in the shafts of afternoon light piercing through grimy windows high above. Cables snaked across the concrete floor, lights on stands cast stark shadows, and the film crew moved with practiced efficiency, setting up for one of 'Footloose's' most anticipated sequences: Ren McCormack's explosive "dancing out his demons" solo.
This scene was different. While choreographer Lynne Taylor-Corbett had meticulously mapped out the group numbers and partner work, Herbert Ross had agreed to let Alex Hayes largely shape this pivotal solo sequence himself. Drawing on his years of martial arts discipline, his natural athleticism, and a raw emotional intensity the character demanded, Alex had worked with Taylor-Corbett primarily on blocking and using the industrial space – the ladders, the beams, the chains – but the fiercely expressive, almost combative, blend of dance, gymnastics, and cathartic rage was uniquely his creation.
Filming began. The playback speakers blasted the chosen track – raw, driving rock music. Alex, as Ren, exploded into motion. Leaps, spins, angry punches thrown at the air, moments of desperate energy followed by coiled frustration. He swung from beams, slid across the floor, kicked out with startling power.
"Cut!" Ross called after the first full run-through. "Excellent energy, Alex! Got some great stuff there."
Alex, breathing heavily, sweat already soaking through his grey sweatshirt, shook his head, walking back to his starting mark. "No... not quite right. The transition into the floor work felt forced."
They went again. And again. Each take was powerful, physically impressive. The crew watched, mesmerized by the raw physicality. Herbert Ross often looked satisfied after a take, ready to move on. "Alex, that was tremendous! I think we have it."
But Alex, a relentless perfectionist when it came to performance, would often disagree. "Almost. The anger felt right, but the vulnerability underneath wasn't quite there in that last section," or "I missed the peak on that turn." He pushed himself relentlessly, take after take, day after day.
By the third day dedicated to this sequence, the physical toll was evident. Alex moved between takes with a weary intensity, his muscles aching, but his focus never wavered. Diane Lane, on set to watch, stood near the monitors, captivated. As Alex finished another powerful, emotionally charged take, she turned to Robert Downey Jr. standing beside her and murmured, almost reverently, "He's magnificent, isn't he?"
Robert watched Alex on the monitor, catching his breath after the intense routine. Normally, hearing Diane praise Alex like that, he might have quipped back something teasing, knowing she harbored a massive crush on their co-star. But not today. Watching Alex move – the effortless power, the surprising grace intermingled with raw anguish – had silenced his usual banter. This wasn't just acting; it was something primal and captivating. Robert found himself genuinely awestruck. He simply nodded slowly in agreement with Diane's assessment and added quietly, his eyes still fixed on the screen, "Yeah. He is something."
Finally, late on the third day, something clicked. The music swelled, and Alex launched into the sequence with a ferocity that felt different – less performed, more possessed. Every move crackled with Ren's pent-up rage, grief, and yearning for release. The athleticism was breathtaking – flips off walls, dizzying spins, powerful kicks seamlessly blended with moments of almost painful emotional expression. He utilized the entire space, interacting with the industrial detritus not just as props, but as extensions of his character's internal struggle. It was raw, primal, and technically brilliant all at once. He landed the final pose, chest heaving, defiant and exhausted.
Silence hung in the warehouse for a beat, broken only by Alex's ragged breathing. Then, the crew erupted in spontaneous applause.
Herbert Ross stared at the playback monitor, his usual professional calm replaced by genuine awe. He watched the sequence again, completely absorbed. He'd known Alex was talented, physically gifted. But this... this was something else entirely. It was pure, unadulterated movie magic, captured on film. He finally looked up from the monitor, a look of shock and deep admiration on his face. "My God, Alex," Ross said, his voice quiet but filled with respect. "That was... extraordinary."
Alex, still catching his breath, looked over at the director, acknowledging the praise with a slight nod, sweat dripping from his face. "That's what I was aiming for," he managed, affirming that the grueling effort over the past few days had finally yielded the exact raw emotion and physical expression he had envisioned for Ren McCormack's cathartic release.