SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER: 40th Anniversary Blu-ray (Paramount 1977) Paramount Home Video
Few movies can
rightly be called a ‘cultural phenomenon’; fewer still so inextricably locked
into a time capsule extolling the virtues of white polyester, glitter balls and
platform shoes. What can I tell you? It was the seventies; a decade devoted to
self-love, and all the outrageousness in synthetic bling money could buy. And
while it is probably a safe bet no one associated with Saturday Night Fever (1977) meticulously plotted to create a Smithsonian
artifact (some would suggest, ‘relic’
as a more accurate descriptor here), one effectively to live on with the throb
of Bee Gees-infused falsetto disco twang still ringing in our ears, in essence,
that is precisely what has become of this movie 40 years later. Saturday Night Fever lives on, not so
much for its obsessively horrendous odes to bad taste; costume designer, Patrizia
Von Brandenstein basically buying off the rack to create the film’s distinct
uber-flash in a thoroughly gaudy pastiche of opioid-inducing hallucinatory
splashes of color, but rather for its youth-stained tragic disillusionment, not
only with the rules of engagement, but also achieving and maintaining a sort of
thousand watt, form-fitting god-like aura of confidence that the anti-heroic
Tony Manero only seems to possess and emit in spades every Saturday night at
the 2001 Oddyssey Club in Brooklyn (simultaneously spelled and misspelled on
the club’s exterior…very ‘odd’
indeed). Trademark or bad signage painted by a beauty school dropout…who can
say?
John Travolta,
nearing the end of his run as Vinnie Barbarino on TV’s beloved sitcom, Welcome Back Kotter (1975-79), had
caught the eye of producer, Robert Stigwood who, within a period of a few short
months would cast the actor in the one-two knockout punch, effectively to
catapult Travolta’s career into the stratosphere with this, and the other
titanic blockbuster musical of the decade, Grease
(1978). Nothing about Norman Wexler’s original screenplay suggested Saturday Night Fever as a ‘musical’;
Wexler basing his prose on journalist, Nik Cohn’s New York Magazine article, ‘Tribal Rights of the New Saturday Night’.
This was brought to Wexler’s attention by Stigwood. Travolta, who had also read
Cohn’s piece, immediately gravitated to the part, pouring his energies into
crafting what is today considered the archetypal image of the decade; freeze
frames of Travolta stepping out on the multi-colored back lit dance floor in his
form-fitting white polyester, indelibly etched to exemplify the look of a
generation - endlessly copied and lampooned for generations yet to follow it.
With two major
albums released thus far, the Bee Gees were discovering their popularity on the
wane. Mercifully, their momentary downward spiral was put on permanent pause
with an impromptu phone call from Stigwood. At present, the Bee Gees were in
the middle of another recording session inside France’s acoustically famed
studio, Chateau D’Herouville. Stigwood, who sought to use several songs from
the band’s previous albums was immediately smitten by several of the as yet
unreleased recordings he was invited to hear from these sessions. ‘Night Fever’ was not among them; a song
Stigwood felt contained ‘pornographic’ connotations (though it nevertheless made
it into the movie). The producer’s eclectic blurring of the Bee Gees previous hits
with four new songs bought outright from these sessions would not only comprise
the bulk of the Saturday Night Fever
soundtrack, but also create the iconic disco anthem and go on to become one of
the biggest and best-selling ‘movie soundtracks’ of all time with ‘Staying Alive’ achieving legendary
status virtually overnight. Even today, it is impossible to hear the opening
throb of those impish chords without instantly thinking of Travolta’s
exaggerated strut, paint can in hand, and, in perfect rhythm to the music,
skirt-chasing his way through a failed attempt at a phone number from a shapely
passerby, momentarily pausing for two thoroughly greasy slices of pizza, dropping
a fiver down payment on a new polyester blue shirt, and finally, making his way
to a meager retail sales gig at the local hardware store.
Even so, the
real tour de force, as far as the movie is concerned, is Tony Manero’s electric
moves inside the Oddyssey to another Bee Gees’ masterpiece, ‘You Should Be Dancing’; as Bob Hope
quipped later that year at the Oscars, Travolta “wearing his threads from the inside out”. Our introduction to Tony’
nightclubbing alter ego is hardly flattering. He is insatiably cocky - even
cruel to Connie, a fawning extra (played by Fran Drescher) as he takes to the
floor to put on his show. In effect, this is the one place where Tony Mareno is
king; shedding his impossibly Italian/even more insufferably Catholic
upbringing as the extras cluttering this promenade suddenly melt away for his
benefit; the multi-colored dance tiles complimenting his fitful gyrations, one
erotic hip swivel at a time. Travolta, who has since come to be regarded as a
dancer, actually had no formal training as such when he proceeded to mesmerize this
entourage of sycophants (and, by extension – the audience). Thus, it remains a
true testament to his graceful execution of these endlessly parodied disco
moves, that even now, 40 years separated from that gritty epoch of kitsch,
climax and cliché, he can still take the most laughably overplayed and
exaggerated interchanges and make them uber-cool, fresh and exhilarating rather
than idiotic.
Twenty-three
year old Travolta is playing nineteen year old, Anthony ‘Tony’ Manero; the
quintessence of a Bay Ridge, Brooklyn Italian stallion, perpetually
gold-chained and in narcissistic pursuit of the perfect hairdo. Tony lives with
his parents, Frank (Val Bisoglio) and Flo (Julie Bovasso),
a younger sibling, Linda (Lisa Peluso) and his grandmother (Nina Hansen). An
elder brother, Frank Jr. (Martin Shakar) has made good, having left home to
become a priest – the pride and joy of his mother. Frank Sr. is a bitter man,
angry at having been laid off from work for more than a year, resulting in Tony
working a dead-end job at a small hardware store to pay the family’s
bills. Tony’s boss, Dan Fusco (Sam
Coppola) tries to give him some good solid advice. “You don’t f_ck with the future…it f_cks with you if you’re not
prepared for it!” Still, it is pretty hard to argue with Tony’s outlook and
desire to escape this otherwise lethal mix of ennui and monotony; his one
satisfaction achieved on the dance floor at the 2001 Odyssey disco nightclub.
Tony’s entourage includes Joey (Joseph Cali), Double J. (Paul Pape) and Gus (Bruce
Ornstein). On the fringe are Bobby C. (Barry Miller), an insecure straggler in
search of a male hero to worship, and Annette (Donna Pescow); the neighborhood
gal pal, despairing for a physical relationship with Tony. Both Bobby and
Annette will come to realize they have been used in their own way. Each will
end their association with this clique unhappily.
A rite of
passage for the group is a quick stop on the Verrazano–Narrows Bridge. At one
point Tony, Double J. and Gus fool Annette into believing they have toppled
over the side to their death. When Annette rushes to the edge, only to discover
the trio comfortably clinging to the metal rigging, she is mortified. The
bridge is significant for Tony because it symbolizes ‘another life’ waiting for
him in more suburban Staten Island. At present, the Odyssey has announced a
dance competition with prize money. Tony is a shoe-in. Annette would like to be
his dance partner. And although Tony casually agrees, his head is almost
immediately turned to reconsider this promise when he sees Stephanie Mangano (Karen
Lynn Gorney); a bright young woman who dazzles from horn to hoof with her
professional dance moves. Tony attempts
to woo Stephanie with his usual ‘big dumb male’ bravura. She is hardly
impressed. In fact, she thinks him a colossal joke. In movie-land terms: it’s
love at first sight, even if Stephanie does not know it yet. Tony trails
Stephanie to the dance studio where she rehearses. He begs her indulgence for
just a moment; a chance to pitch the idea for helping him become a better
dancer – (and maybe, even a better man). Stephanie is intrigued and accepts
Tony’s wager, though strictly on a professional level. She wants to win the
prize money. And so the mentoring begins. Tony proves a very quick study. There
is a definite spark between them.
Meanwhile,
Tony's elder brother, Frank Jr. confides he has left the priesthood. Flo is
naturally upset by this turn of events. But Tony and Frank’s brotherly bond is
arguably the emotional center of this movie. For although the brothers have
taken different paths in life, neither is particularly contented in their choices.
Moreover, Tony feels vindicated by Frank Jr.’s confession. So Frank isn’t
perfect, as he has been led to believe. And Frank’s abdication means Tony is no
longer the black sheep of the family. Well…sort of. Meanwhile, while on his way
home from the convenience store, Gus is attacked by a Hispanic gang, brutally
beaten and hospitalized with considerable contusions and broken bones. From his
hospital bed, Gus weakly suggests to Tony and his pals his attackers were the
Barracudas. Meanwhile, Bobby C. is desperately trying to get out of a sticky
relationship with his devoutly Catholic girlfriend, Pauline (who we never
meet); recently made pregnant with his child. Facing pressure from his family
to marry, Bobby nervously inquiries if the Pope can grant dispensation for an
abortion. After Frank explains the unlikelihood of this happening Bobby becomes
even more morose. Believing if he lets Tony borrow his 1964 Chevrolet Impala to
help move Stephanie from Bay Ridge to Manhattan he can get a little badly
needed ‘one on one’ advice from the
only guy whose opinion matters to him, Bobby is sorely disillusioned when Tony’s
promise to telephone later never comes to fruition.
Determined to
avenge Gus’ beating, Tony, Double J. and Joey force a showdown at the
Barracudas clubhouse; Tony steering Bobby’s Impala through their closed garage
door. The boys kick some proverbial butt, but equally get theirs kicked in the
process by offending gang members. Proud
of their kamikaze assault, the boys turn up bloody and bruised at the hospital
to relay their ‘victory’ to Gus who now sheepishly confesses he does not know
for a fact it was the Barracudas
responsible for his beating. It was dark. Gus never saw his attackers. Tony is
outraged and storms out of Gus’ hospital room, followed by Double J. and Joey.
Later, the boys arrive at the Odyssey; Tony, in his best polyester for the
dance-off. He and Stephanie create a sensation for their fans and the judges.
But their act is overshadowed by a stellar performance from rival couple, Maria
(Adrienne Framet) and Hector (Joseph Pugliese); a pair of Puerto Ricans who are
positively electric. Regardless, the biased Deejay (Monty Rock III) awards the
coveted First Prize to Tony and Stephanie. This doesn’t wash with Tony.
Disgusted by
the club’s racism, also his friends defiance to support the ruling, Tony hands
over both the First Place trophy and its accompanying prize money to Hector and
Maria. Stephanie is mildly put off by his generosity and all but repulsed when
Tony attempts to simply throw her into the backseat of Bobby’s car for a little
action on the side. Tony paws at Stephanie. She knees him in the nuts and
storms off. Dumped by what ought to have been his sure thing, Tony now attempts
to be chivalrous toward Annette who Double J. and Joey suggest has willingly
agreed to have sex with all of them in tandem. Tony is hardly in the mood.
Instead, he rides shotgun with Bobby in the front seat while Joey and Double J.
take their turns raping Annette in the backseat. While Annette thought she
might use the boys to make Tony jealous, his ambivalence now – and his
admonishment of her as ‘just a cunt’
afterward, leaves Annette feeling cheap, used and suicidal. Nevertheless, Bobby
is angry too; fed up with Tony’s lack of friendship, he climbs over the guard
rails of the Verrazano–Narrows Bridge to prove he can be just as macho. Tony is
genuinely concerned. He has never seen Bobby like this before. Alas, Bobby
loses his footing and plummets off the side of the bridge to his death.
Thoroughly disenchanted
with life, family and friends, Tony rides the subway back and forth from
Brooklyn to Manhattan all night long. As dawn breaks, he arrives on Stephanie's
stoop to beg for her forgiveness. She jokingly suggests “I’ve never let a known rapist into my apartment before” but can
genuinely see a change in Tony’s outlook on life. He’s frightened, alone and
nervous about his future. For the first time, he may sincerely realize he
doesn’t really have one. Tony’s sincerity is a welcomed change of pace.
Stephanie suggests they can start anew as ‘just friends’ – a bond, possibly to
lead to better days ahead. A shaky Tony agrees to try and be the man Stephanie
deserves.
Saturday Night Fever is today considered a ‘time capsule’. However, placed in its
proper context, it certainly did not start out that way; rather, a movie with
incidental music set in the ‘then’ present – a gritty, meaningful
representation of the times with something relevant and universal to say about youth
struggling to find their place in the adult world. We should also point out when
the picture had its premiere the disco era was already on the wane; its resurgence
immediately following Saturday Night
Fever’s premiere – however short-lived
– ensuring its place in movie-land echelons as a genuine zeitgeist, not only
‘of’ the times, but for ‘all time’.
While Paramount execs were extremely nervous about the crude explicates being
bandied about casually, no one could argue with the meteoric box office
returns. Then, as now, if it makes money it must be good. Yet, where ever and
whenever it has played since, Saturday
Night Fever has drawn crowds around the block and sold out engagements for
months in advance.
Virtually
every young man from sixteen to thirty – including yours truly – desired to
emulate ‘the look’ of Travolta’s
polyester white suit and black shirt for his prom, wedding or just a really hot
date night. The seventies verve for piled high and heavily hair sprayed
coiffeurs, enormous platform shoes and ghastly body-hugging synthetics,
dripping in sequins to reflect the glitter balls shimmering down in a multitude
of tie-dyed colors and gaudy patterns, typified a generation hung up and drunk
on its own superficial stardust: the era of sex, drugs and rock n’ roll, the
burgeoning gay/drug scene and notorious nightclubbing going on inside New
York’s Studio 54 – all of it registering in a level of unprecedented hedonism, is
sanctified in this movie in Hollywood-ized glamor; essentially, with all of its
rawer seediness expunged. Saturday Night
Fever may be gritty in its own right. Yet, even under the weight of its
atrocious spectacle, the picture attains a heart-felt, if slightly softcore center; the
characters genuine and pining for understanding beneath their slavish devotion
to relatively inexpensive 8th Street duds, defiantly exercised via
divine decadence.
Saturday Night Fever may not be a movie ‘of today’ anymore. Yet, despite changing
times and tastes, the intensity of the picture’s drama holds up incredibly
well; the James Dean/Sal Mineo-esque friendship between Tony Manero and Bobby
C. (that attracted both Travolta and Barry Miller to these parts) brought to
full fruition with as much tragedy. The heartbreak of the piece is genuine too;
Annette’s sacrificed virginity, Tony’s wounded disillusionment with his friends
– revealed as fair-weather sycophants who willingly lie to please him; Bobby’s
complete implosion and act of madness…or was it suicide? We’ll likely never
know. In the end, Saturday Night Fever
overwhelms with its unvarnished truths. In spite of our ever-evolving social
spheres of influence, the main staples in humanity’s mad inhuman noise have not
matured beyond those angry, wounded, brittle and resolutely raw emotions so shrewdly
expressed in Norman Wexler’s screenplay. For certain, Saturday Night Fever’s popularity has long since overshadowed Nik
Cohn’s New York article. It really is Cohn’s observations we have to thank for
this movie; Wexler, merely finessing them with dialogue to compliment, though
never detract from the essential malaise of a pop culture on the brink of its
own nervous breakdown. The characters populating Saturday Night Fever are real; the actors cast to play them, truer
still. All have found their momentary release in dancing. We believe in them,
feel their anxiety and ache for something to burst and liberate them and us
from the tyranny of these uncertain times. The answer: at least according the
seventies, was to be unearthed in disco – taking to the floor to blow off a
little well-timed, if frenetic steam. ‘You
Should Be Dancing’ – indeed.
For its 40th
Anniversary reissue, Saturday Night
Fever has been restored in 4K from the original camera negative. A genuine
pity Paramount Home Video saw no point in releasing a day-and-date UHD.
Nevertheless, this 1080p presentation delivers the ‘wow’ effect: filmic and very sharp. Grain appears indigenous to its
source and, with a few minor caveats, is consistently handled throughout,
allowing Ralf D. Bode’s cinematography to really shine. We get precise
detailing in everything from fabrics to skin tones; all of it effortlessly
resolved with astounding clarity. Colors are appropriately gaudy and fine
detail is evident even in the smoky-lit nightclub or on locations shot at
night. There are virtually zero to complain about here. Paramount has
advertised the DTS 5.1 as newly enhanced. I have the older release. But
comparing these two discs I must admit it is difficult, if not impossible to
distinguish the upgrades. If I had to guess, I would suggest the new 40th
offers marginally more spatial separation; less frontal in its discharge of
dialogue and SFX. The Bee Bees score sounds impressive. While the audio is
arguably ‘enhanced’, it nevertheless sounds indigenous to its source. This is
the highest compliment I can pay it. Extras, save one (the brief ‘Back to Bay Ridge’ featuring Joseph Cali
revisiting locations where the movie was shot) have all been ported over from
the previous Blu-ray release and include a six part documentary – ‘Catching the Fever’ with interviews from
most of the principle cast (minus John Travolta) affectionately waxing about
their participation; also, a deleted scene, a picture-in-picture factoid track,
and featurettes instructing how to dance like Travolta. Bottom line: I am usually not for
double-dipping. But this newly minted 40th Anniversary illustrates
marked improvements in overall image quality and deserves consideration. It is
as good as Saturday Night Fever is
ever likely to look – barring a UHD release. Highly recommended! You should be dancing too!
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
4
VIDEO/AUDIO
4.5
EXTRAS
5
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