Once they were ubiquitous as kettles and televisions. Every house on every block had a collection of workout videotapes featuring either Jane Fonda or Richard Simmons. Together, they taught us to lunge, flex and stretch as we had never done before. But if forced to choose between the two, there’s really no contest to speak of. As Hollywood royalty, Fonda could easily turn a dollar doing just about anything. Indeed, anyone who has seen Monster In Law will agree to as much. Richard Simmons on the other hand, bore an eerie resemblance to Leo Sayer and often wore a facial expression that suggested he’d just strapped on a pair of ice-cube trousers. If it came to a contest, there’s no doubt in my mind that I’d choose Jane over Richard any day of the week.
Once they were ubiquitous as kettles and televisions. Every house on every block had a collection of workout videotapes featuring either Jane Fonda or Richard Simmons. Together, they taught us to lunge, flex and stretch as we had never done before. But if forced to choose between the two, there’s really no contest to speak of. As Hollywood royalty, Fonda could easily turn a dollar doing just about anything. Indeed, anyone who has seen Monster In Law will agree to as much. Richard Simmons on the other hand, bore an eerie resemblance to Leo Sayer and often wore a facial expression that suggested he’d just strapped on a pair of ice-cube trousers. If it came to a contest, there’s no doubt in my mind that I’d choose Jane over Richard any day of the week.
Exercise videos were very much a product of the 1980s. Such was the popularity of the Jane Fonda workout video in 1982 that it inspired many people to purchase their very first ‘video cassette recorder’. Clearly, there was something about being able to exercise in your own home that touched a nerve, such that nearly every household had one of Jane’s tape loitering somewhere in the vicinity of the VCR. But it was one thing to buy a copy of ‘Jane Fonda’s Workout’; it was another thing entirely to use it. In one regard, exercise videos were much like nuclear warheads in that having them was far more important than actually using them. What Jane was probably seeking to deter was any form of exercise other than her own. We had several of her videos in our house, their primary job being to provide structural support for a set of shelves.
Amazingly, Jane Fonda did not invent aerobics, although many would argue that she perfected it. Rather, it was Dr Kenneth Cooper of the United States Air Force. Dr Cooper had long been puzzled at how people with good muscular strength could still be near to useless at running. It was during this time that he developed a theory regarding the use of oxygen correlating to the level of personal fitness. Part of me would like to think that this information was then used to develop an elite combat unit entitled ‘special forces, aerobic division’ in which armed troops dressed in leotards and sweatbands would take down their enemies by challenging them to a vigorous straddle down step class. That would certainly be a video worth watching.
I was never in the air force, but I did once watch an exercise video. It was like a portal to another universe; one where leotards, happiness and terrible Doogie Howser-esque keyboard music roamed the earth. More than anything there was Jane. She seemed so enthusiastic and had managed to rustle up a whole crowd of dedicated supporters whose task it was to hoop and holler as though this was the greatest experience of their lives. More than a mere master of ceremonies, Jane Fonda also sported a permanent set so spectacularly huge that, along with the Great Wall of China, it was one of only two objects that could be seen from space.
My own aerobic career did not officially begin until university when I elected to attend an aerobics class. My motives, however, were far from pure. My friend Rowan and I reasoned that these classes were attended overwhelmingly by women and that any environment in which we were without competitors could only to be to our advantage. Sadly, our plans were undone by two factors. Firstly, both of us were afflicted with the kind coordination that suggests that we were unlikely to be able to feed ourselves and which prompts those not similarly cursed to look away in horror. The second thing that somewhat undermined our brilliant plan to meet people was my decision to dress exactly as Jane Fonda had done, complete with leotards, headband and a stunning permanent set. Ourselves aside, I don’t think we said a word to anyone.
The term ‘exercise tape’ is now wholly redundant and ‘Aerobics’ has suffered in terms of its popularity. For me, I can only say that my interest in aerobics diminished greatly after I discovered the joy that only jazzercise can bring. However, I don’t care much for the current crop of exercise gurus. None of them hold a candle to Jane Fonda or even Richard Simmons. This new breed of hard-core trainers may well have abdominals of steel and thigh muscles that could crack a pistachio, but not one of them could turn in a performance as emotionally nuanced as the one Jane gave in On Golden Pond. Indeed, had any of these modern beefcakes appeared in her place, it would have been an altogether different film. For the new breed, exercise is a way of life. For Jane, it seemed just one part of her life. She appeared to be more balanced.
Perhaps it’s time I gave aerobics another go. Not in public, mind you, as I suspect that I am as fundamentally ‘unco’ now as I was then. I can only wonder whether those old tapes have made the leap to DVD, perhaps even ‘blue-ray’. I hope so. What I will not do, however, is dig around and see if I can find the leotards, headband and permanent set in the lower recesses of the wardrobe. For I have learned the hard way that only Jane Fonda can be Jane Fonda. And that to try and imitate her would, indeed, be the very definition of a futile exercise.