CAN'T STOP THE MUSIC: Blu-ray (EMI, 1980) Shout! Factory

"This movie's a revolution!  I mean, this movie is launching whole new careers and we need new stars today. Warren and Ryan and Redford - these people are way over 40.”
-        Allan Carr
I suppose there is something to be said for a movie so witless, tacky and gawd-awful that it became the first ever recipient of the Golden Raspberry. From its ultra-wacky faux history of how the band, the Village People came together, to Steve Guttenberg’s all-energy goofball with dreams of becoming a DJ at an ultra-swanky discotheque, to Olympic decathlon superstar, Bruce ‘call me Kaitlyn’ Jenner’s mistaken crack at a movie career, Can’t Stop the Music (1980) is such a colossally inane and insane idea for a musical, one has to sincerely consider the source of this frisky and fetishistic fiasco first: producer, Allan Carr whose list of (choke!) accomplishments included a mid-sixties failed revival of the Ziegfeld Follies, a meager investment in Walt Disney’s last personally supervised musical clunker, The Happiest Millionaire (1967), and getting Rob Lowe to boogie down with Eileen Bowman’s monstrous parody of Snow White to ‘Proud Mary’ at the 61st Academy Awards – a disaster from which Carr’s reputation never entirely recovered. Indeed, if we briefly pause to reconsider that vulgar implosion at the Oscars – MC, Merv Griffin crooning ‘I’ve Got A Lovely Bunch of Coconuts’, while introducing a veritable waxworks of aged stars, most (like Choral Brown, Vincent Price and Dorothy Lamour) appearing more mummified than memorable, then Can’t Stop the Music does not look so out of place in Carr’s repertoire.
The Oscar telecast, which also featured the notorious ‘Stars of Tomorrow’ production number, to include – among its most tasteless vignettes, Corey Feldman doing Michael Jackson, Christian Slater swashbuckling with Tyrone Power Jr., Chad Lowe declaring ‘I am a Thespian’ and Patrick Dempsey tap-dancing down a staircase, became a laughing stock in the industry; the Walt Disney Company suing AMPAS for illegal use of Snow White's image. It ought to be pointed out that Allan Carr, at least in his early days, had his merits too; renown as a great party and events planner who could really ‘put on the glam’ for a memorable night on the town. Precisely how Carr parlayed this into establishing his own talent agency (with a roster of such luminaries as Tony Curtis, Peter Sellers, Ann-Margaret, Nancy Walker, Marvin Hamlisch, Joan Rivers, Peggy Lee, ‘Mama’ Cass Elliot, Paul Anka, and, Frankie Valli) as well as ‘discovering’ Olivia Newton-John, Mark Hamill, Michelle Pfeiffer, Steve Guttenberg, and, Lisa Hartman, remains open for discussion. But by the mid-1970’s, Carr was riding high, thanks to the unlikely Broadway smash, La Cage aux Folles (1973) and an alliance with producer, Robert Stigwood, who hired him to promote his film version of the pop-opera, Tommy (1975) as well as the release of a low-budget foreign flick, Survive! (1976). As both movies made money, Carr again was hired to promote Sitgwood’s 1977 smash hit, Saturday Night Fever, and then, Grease (1978), which he also co-produced and wrote the screenplay for a cool $6 million. Afterward, Carr and Stigwood’s professional alliance went on to collaborate on PR for Michael Cimino’s The Deer Hunter (1978). So, Carr – though much maligned after 1986 – was not simply a flash in the pan, but a very slick cookie with a proven track record.
Shooting Can’t Stop the Music was complicated by several circumstances. First, star, Valerie Perrine and director, Nancy Walker could not stand one another – Perrine’s contempt, likely stemming from Walker’s decision to excise a lavish solo production number Perrine considered a showcase for her talents. Worse, exterior location work in New York incurred the wrath of ‘gay rights’ activists who mistook the production for William Friedkin’s Cruising, simultaneously shooting in the Big Apple. Brash and cocky, Carr dismissed all common sense when questioned about the feasibility of making a movie with a disco beat when disco itself had decidedly fallen out of favor. Worse for the movie, two of the Village People’s biggest hits, ‘In the Navy’ and ‘Macho Man’, were not among the tunes to be celebrated. By the time, Can’t Stop the Music had its premiere, the ‘disco sucks!’ backlash in the U.S. had overrun Carr’s ‘revolution’ and renaissance hopes for its resuscitation. Interestingly, the soundtrack album did quite well, as did the movie - in Australia.  Since 1980, Can’t Stop the Music’s status has mutated from ‘absolute train wreck’ into a cult camp classic, frequently revived at gay film festivals. 
Although very much an Allan Carr movie, Can’t Stop the Music was directed by Nancy ‘the quicker-picker-upper’ Walker, best known at the time as Rhoda Morgenstern’s mama on The Mary Tyler-Moore Show – and later, Rhoda – also, for her reoccurring bit part on NBC’s popular sleuthing series, McMillan & Wife and, as diner hostess, Rosie - the spokeswoman for Bounty paper towels. Financed by British company, EMI, the decision to put Walker in the director’s chair was Carr’s; probably on good authority, given her tenure and popularity then as a theater, film, and television star who had been Tony, Golden Globe and Emmy-nominated multiple times. After the movie’s epic box office implosion – it barely earned $2 million back on its $20 million investment – Walker quietly continued to work in television. In her prime, the actress was best recalled as the homely girl in Broadway’s smash hit, Best Foot Forward (1941), invited to reprise the role for the 1943 MGM movie, and thereafter, appearing to good effect as everyone’s favorite shoot-from-the-hip gal-pal who could never land a hot date to save her life. I love this Nancy Walker. Precisely how Carr came to offer the actress a feature film seems perplexing at best. Yes – Walker was a musical/comedy alumnus at MGM, arguably, the greatest studio for movie musicals (certainly, Metro’s quantity outweighed virtually all of its competition). But she had absolutely zero experience helming a gargantuan and glossy movie musical. So, if anything Can’t Stop the Music would illustrate Walker’s Achilles’ heel – a little dynamo in front of the camera, barely able to achieve a blip when seated behind it. Yet, in hindsight, the picture’s failure is only partly to blame on Walker’s inexperience. Moreover, the screenplay, cobbled together by Allan Carr and Bronté Woodard is a travesty, riddled in silly situations, loosely strung together and weighed down by every movie-musical cliché of the ‘hey kids, let’s put on a show’ ilk that, at least in the 1940’s, had the sensational Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney to sell its homespun goodness as high art. In lieu of such iconic headliners, Carr and Walker give us C-grade hopefuls, interspersed with a backdrop of legit talent: Tammy Lee Grimes – Broadway’s original Unsinkable Molly Brown – June Havoc, Barbara Rush, and, Altovise Davis.   
Given that disco – and, the Village People – were both on their way out as cameras began to roll in 1979, Can’t Stop the Music is such a thoroughly ill-advised endeavor to bring either back from the brink, in hindsight, the picture falls into a very rare category: ‘so bad – it’s bad’ – and not even in a ‘good’ way; Linda Conaway-Parsloe and Harold Michelson’ art direction, a time capsule gone too far down the proverbial ‘rabbit hole’, offering a view of Manhattan urbanites, not simply from another eon, but ostensibly, an alternative planet. We get introduced to sugar-spun songwriter, Jack Morell (Steve Guttenberg) — a thinly veiled allusion to Village People’s creator, Jacques Morali. After telling off his boss (Dick Patterson), Morell exuberantly roller skates down the street, past various New York landmarks; Walker, splitting these images, seen under the main titles, into three dizzying views of the same action. From here, we are introduced to Morell’s roommate, supermodel, Samantha Simpson (Valerie Perrine, of Superman’s Miss Tessmacher fame). The bright-eyed, but otherwise bauble-headed ‘Sam’ has just retired at the peak of her success, drawing buck-teeth and a moustache on her likeness decorating the side panels of a passing bus. Morell gets a job DJ-ing at the Saddle Tramps discotheque – a sort of highly sanitized Studio 54 where patrons nevertheless wear very little and spend most of the night grinding against one another. Witnessing the club’s response to a song Morell wrote just for her, Sam agrees to use her formidable connections to land him a lucrative record deal.
Alas, Sam’s best lead is an ex, Steve Waits (Paul Sands), president of Marrakech Records (nee, Casablanca Records) who really does not want to help Sam. He just desires to get back in her pants. Nevertheless, Steve agrees to listen to Morell’s demo. Deciding his vocals are thin, Sam recruits neighbor and Saddle Tramps’ waiter/go-go boy, Felipe Rose (the Indian) and aspiring model, David ‘Scar’ Hodo (the construction worker) to attend a dinner party at her fashionable townhouse. Hodo, who previously fantasized about becoming a big star – in the gargantuan dream sequence production number, ‘I Love You to Death’ – also brings along Randy Jones (the cowboy), whom he discovered in Greenwich Village. Sam invites her former agent, Sydney Channing (Tammy Grimes) and her assistant, Lulu Brecht (Marilyn Sokol) to this soiree; the latter, also bringing along Ray Simpson (the police man) and a date, Alicia Edwards (Altovise Davis). Channing hopes to encourage Sam to return to modelling, but becomes trapping in a phone booth en route to the party. Meanwhile, Ron White (Bruce Jenner), a buttoned-down attorney from St. Louis, gets mugged by an elderly con-artist and her motorcycle marauding accomplice. Thus, Ron arrives at Sam’s more than a little perturbed. Meanwhile, Lulu gives Jack illegal drugs to get the party started; mildly unnerving, when Jack suspects Ray to be a real cop. Ramped up on his hallucinogenic compounds, Jack gets Ray, Felipe and Hodo to ‘record’ an impromptu cut of ‘Magic Night’. The number is a big hit with the guests, although Ron becomes incensed and walks out after the man-hungry Brecht insatiably paws at him.
The next day, Ron – still wearing the same polyester business suit – runs into Sam. He sheepishly apologizes for his prudishness, suggesting his being a Gemini as an excuse for his behavior.  Following Sam home, Ron gets more than he bargained for when Sam inadvertently dumps a hot tray of lasagna in his lap. Sam and Jack remove his trousers (shades of a similar scene from 1953’s Gentleman Prefer Blondes) before Jack coyly bows out, leaving Sam to make love to Ron. The next few scenes are idiotic camp at best, as Ron, in his navy-and-white-striped boxers, gets stuck in Sam’s Eames’ reclining chair, rescued by her as she straddles him in her slinky black dress. We cut away to the bedroom – pink and frilly – Ron collapsing on the bed and Sam flopping on top of Ron. Another cutaway to the morning after and, what do you suppose? Ron has lost his edge – among other things. Now, he wants to be of ‘service’ to help Sam promote and build upon Morell’s dreams of hitting the big time. To this end, Ron offers the roomies the use of his posh Wall Street offices where they can hold their auditions. Sam and the rest of the Village People are introduced to Glenn – the leather man - Hughes, who climbs atop a baby grand piano to perform ‘Danny Boy’. In short order both he and Alex – the G.I. – Briley, are signed up; the group’s name established by Sam’s socialite mama, Norma White (Barbara Rush). Alas, incensed by the carnival-esque atmosphere in his ‘respectable’ offices, Ron's boss, Richard Montgomery (Russell Nype), refuses to represent the Village People. The scene ends when one of the non-winning acts sets off the fire sprinklers with his whirling, flame-lit batons.
From here, Ron comes up with an even more unintelligent idea; to rent space at the YMCA for the group’s rehearsals. Aside: the Village People’s hit single, YMCA was already a runaway chart topper from their third album, released in 1978. Interestingly, the song became an anthem for the real YMCA, who licensed the visuals from Can’t Stop the Music to help promote their organization on television. Viewed today – even, when experienced then – YMCA has to be the ‘gayest’ musical sequence ever created for a mainstream Hollywood musical, with buff male bods in various stages of undress – or completely naked in the shower and locker room – performing an Esther Williams’-styled synchronized dive into the pool, or weight-training shirtless in slo-mo. Perrine’s Sam, also to be found topless and splashing about in a hot tub, surrounded by the Village People, gets to frolic among this veritable parade of studs. Afterward, the newly amalgamated band cut a demo – ‘Liberation’ for Steve, who still resists its charm and offers them a paltry contract merely to placate Sam, but certain to take their careers nowhere. Disgusted, Sam walks out and plots, with Morell’s help, to throw a ‘pay party’ to help finance the group’s official launch.  As part of the trade-off, Sam acquiesces to Channing’s offer to shoot a TV ad campaign for the dairy industry, on one condition: that the Village People are featured. This results in the absurdly lavish production number, ‘Milkshake’ – begun with the matronly Sam pouring glasses of milk for six little boys, attired in the band’s archetypal costumes. From here, the number evolves into a titanic sequence – arguably, the movie’s best. Shot against high-gloss and highly reflective black-mirrored floors, with art deco revolving prosceniums and staircases, the entire cast decked out in costumer, Theoni V. Aldredge’s slinky, satiny and sparkly white attire, ‘Milkshake’ stands alone as the super-kitsch spectacle of this movie. There is not much choreography going on here (more like voguing before voguing was a thing). But Bill Butler’s cinematography always gives us something outlandishly fun to ogle; the number, concluding with a heaven-sent cascade of white balloons flowing from the rafters.
Tragically, for all of its exuberance, the advertisers are not impressed and reject the spot outright. Seemingly at a dead end, and, having run out of resources, Norma comes to the band’s rescue, offering them a plum spot to perform at her San Franciscan charity fundraiser.    Sam lures Steve to attend with the promise of a romantic weekend. Ron is momentarily taken aback by the inference Sam would prostitute herself merely to secure Steve’s backing. Hence, on the private jet ride over, as Steve prepares for their tryst, he is instead confronted by Morell and his former chorine/mother, Helen (June Havoc) who have come to finalize the details of the group’s contract. Helen plies Steve with charm and booze, and, by the time the plane has landed in Frisco, negotiations for T-shirt merchandising in Japan is already well under way. In the dressing room, Ron is relieved to learn Sam did get on the plane with Steve. Now, he proposes to her. Montgomery resurfaces, hoping to rehire Ron as a junior partner, representing the group. Following a pointless cameo performance by The Ritchie Family, the Village People take to the stage, making their triumphant debut, belting out the movie’s title song.
There are really only two ways to ‘appreciate’ Can’t Stop the Music: either, as a horrendous atrocity of super kitsch (which it is), or with a faint, fuzzy afterglow for the decade that spawned its audacious idiocy. The ‘acting’ is awful. Steve Guttenberg, all lanky limbs, and dressed in some of the most outrageous ensembles – even for the eighties – including, bare-chested white coveralls, vibrates, gyrates, and otherwise exhibits all the finesse of a break-dancing chicken suffering from Tourette’s. A word about Guttenberg, whose brief popularity in the movies as clean-cut ‘hunk du jour’ I never fully understood. Herein, he is more goony than great; just a flimsy bag of bones with a crooked and toothy grin, and, the most appalling fashion sense. It’s the improbability here that really unhinges his likeability. I mean, does anyone believe a retail record store clerk is rooming with a buxom supermodel? Better question: why does a New York glamour gal like Sam – earning the big bucks – need a roommate?!? Having attained a fashionable Manhattan address, this year’s wardrobe and all the hyperventilating male testosterone on maximum overdrive she can handle, Sam’s most amiable catch is… Paul Sand’s Steve Waits – a Jheri-curled sad sack with a nose like an inverted baseball bat?!?!? I suppose Steve Guttenberg’s flighty fan is the perfect counterpoint to Bruce Jenner’s buttoned-down don, who manages to ‘cut loose’ – or rather, as loose as Jenner could get before going all the way as his alter-ego, Kaitlyn. Aligning Jenner’s performance in Can’t Stop the Music with his commercial endorsements on a box of Wheaties, just one of the accolades afforded a world-record-setting Decathlon athlete and Olympic gold medalist (whose reputation stood from 1976 until shortly before Can’t Stop the Music’s debut), the breakfast cereal wins out.  Personally, I give Jenner’s acting a ‘D’ minus. He’s certainly no O.J. Simpson! And now, you know exactly where we stand!
The Village People, arguably the whole point for putting on this show, are the least carefully delineated performers in this claptrap; back burner participants in their own musical bio for whom the various subplots hinge and revolve around Sam and her silly suitors. In point of fact, the movie is about Sam’s desirability and the men in competition for her affections. As for the Village People: they sing – and that’s about it. The songs, while occasionally ‘poppy’ were already fading relics by the time this movie hit screens. When I first saw Can’t Stop the Music, I was only eleven. Even then, I thought it was a bizarre, and rather uninspired thing. As a teen, with slightly more discerning tastes, I came to assess it as uber-tacky and cringe-worthy. Now, as an full-grown, middle-aged adult, having placed Carr’s catastrophic and cartoony cacophony of mad noise within its proper context, meant as a last-ditch effort to revitalize the Hollywood musical, or rather, bring its time-honored precepts up (or down, as the case may be) to superficial glitz and glam-bam speed with what was then ‘current’ and ‘modern’, in retrospect, Can’t Stop the Music, originally titled ‘Discoland... Where the Music Never Ends’, just seems apropos for that burgeoning decade when psychedelic tie-dye was being phased out by skater boy, midriff-exposing tank tops. The trailer to promote the movie is a time capsule in and of itself, emphatically declaring, “You can’t stop the magic! You can’t stop the excitement! You can’t stop the music!!!” Sincerely, though, I just wish somebody had, although next to Robert Greenwald’s Xanadu, that other glorious musical misfire from 1980, Can’t Stop the Music looks like Citizen Kane!  
I must admit that when Shout! Factory announced a ‘special edition’ of Can’t Stop the Music coming to Blu-ray, my first inclination was to retch. But the results here are mostly impressive, with minor caveats to be discussed in a moment. On the whole, Shout!’s hi-def efforts are flawless, with appropriately dated colors that are bold and fully saturated. Flesh tones lean to the pinkish but are acceptable. Overall contrast is excellent, with a light smattering of film grain looking indigenous to its source. Even the opticals in the main titles, and split screen photography looks solid – usually, not the case – especially with vintage film stocks from the early eighties. So, when the image inexplicably becomes soft mid-way through the ‘Milkshake’ number, and thereafter intermittently toggles between the aforementioned pristine quality, and an overly soft and fuzzy mess, with less than fully saturated hues, I was not altogether surprised, except to be left wondering if the last third of this remaster had been sourced from some alternative film elements. Throughout, there is minimal age-relating damage.  The 5.1 DTS is frontal-based but acceptable, with a low and sustainable bass. The pop-rock soundtrack benefits the most here, while dialogue continues to lean towards the ‘thin’ end of the sonic spectrum.  This isn’t a movie you will be whipping out to show off reference quality on Blu-ray. Still, basic competency has been applied and the results do speak for themselves. We get two new featurettes, both with Village People’s Randy Jones, totaling just a little over an hour in personal reflections. Also, worth a listen, Allan Carr and Jeffrey Schwarz’s audio commentary, hosted by writer, Bruce Vilanch. Add to this, original trailers, TV spots and an image gallery and, well… I cannot think of anything else anyone would want to know about Can’t Stop the Music. Can you? Bottom line: a guilty little pleasure. When you want to see a movie so incongruously preposterous it pangs your eyeballs and acoustic nerve…you really can’t stop this music!
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
1
VIDEO/AUDIO
3.5
EXTRAS

3.5

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