Sandy comes barreling into the frame, late for class. “I’m from Utah!” she screams by way of explanation to Frenchy, a person whom she has never met and who is clearly busy with her own problems right now. Judging by her unimpeachable certainty that everyone finds her fascinating, her obsession with very long skirts, and the fact that my Republican dad already likes her more than me, Sandy is a burgeoning conservative, the kind of innocently right-wing teen who will grow up to own a shack full of guns and host a local cable-TV show about creationism.
Grease: Live! Review
