I was too young to see Saturday Night Fever when it came out, but could not mistake its impact. I cannot overstate how much of a cultural touchstone this film was. Coming out towards the end of the Disco era, it became the pop culture image of the 70’s dance club scene for mainstream America. Travolta, the breakout star of Welcome Back, Carter, was now a bona fide superstar. After Grease the following year, nothing could stop his career. Except, maybe, a decade and a half of crappy movies.
My wife does not care for old movies. In fact, with very few exceptions, she hates them. But she loves Glee, and when Finn was struggling with his future, Mr. Schuester suggested he watch Saturday Night Fever. Tony’s drive and ambition to dance inspired Finn to … I really don’t know, Glee is my wife’s thing. We both were game to give it a try. Anyhow, Schuester should have been fired. And arrested. SNF is no film for a high school kid looking for inspiration, even if he was 30.
What starts with a young man taking his favorite can of paint for a walk becomes a story of directionless, inarticulate young men going through life without learning lessons. I’ve watched and liked films with inarticulate main characters (Rocky) but I’ve never before watched a movie filled with such hatefully stupid people, unable to express even the simplest idea. The frustration listening to this dialog was beyond the pail. But it gets worse.
Our ‘hero’ treats his old dance partner terribly then acts jealous when she threatens to see someone else. His new dance partner agrees to compete but wants no personal relationship, so he acts jealous. She was ten years older than Travolta and looked every bit of it. Worse still, she wasn’t much of a dancer, especially compared to Tony. They have no chemistry and their whole relationship makes no sense. But it gets worse.
Played by the adorable Donna Pescow, Tony’s ex Annette is easily the most likable character in the film. Stupid like the rest, but likable. While Tony sits uninterested in the front seat of the car, Annette is literally gang-raped in the back seat. He later calls her a slut. The shit this film flings at her is unconscionable, and there is no indication that it doesn’t think she deserves it.
A musical lives and dies on the quality of the music, and while this is not a musical, it is at the center of Saturday Night Fever. But even if you hate disco music, it’s still the best part of this film. What further keeps it from being at the absolute bottom is the occasional glimpse of an intelligent, hidden hand. The disillusioned priest, the control dynamic between Stephanie and her former boyfriend, then between her and Tony. The inference that maybe we were never meant to identify with Tony, that this is a cautionary tale. Is there more than the surface story? No, this is Jersey Shore: 70’s Disco edition.
One can make an argument that Tony learns. He doesn’t hate Hispanics anymore. He moves to fancy Manhattan and wants more from life. He agrees to just be friends with Stephanie. But, no, he doesn’t. His grand epiphany about racism is marred by committing his own sexual assault. He is still the same piece of trash he was at the beginning. The film would have been better if the entire cast jumped off a bridge in the first act. AMRU 1.5.
No comments:
Post a Comment