SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER: 45th Anniversary 4K UHD 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 that 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 45 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-fitted and god-like aura of confidence that the anti-heroic,
Tony Manero only seems to emit in spades at the 2001 Oddyssey Club in Brooklyn
(simultaneously spelled and misspelled on the club’s exterior…very ‘odd’
indeed). Trademark or bad signage from 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. Within a few short months, Stigwood
would cast Travolta in the one-two knockout punch, effectively to catapult his
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’. In
fact, Wexler based his prose on journalist, Nik Cohn’s New York Magazine
article, ‘Tribal Rights of the New Saturday Night’, brought to Wexler’s
attention by Stigwood. Travolta, having 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 were indelibly etched in the album release 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 trend was put on permanent pause with an impromptu
phone call from Stigwood. In middle of another recording session inside
France’s acoustically famed studio, Chateau D’Herouville, the band allowed
Stigwood first dibs on their latest effort, Stigwood immediately smitten with
several cuts of the new material. However, ‘Night Fever’ was not among
them as Stigwood felt it contained ‘pornographic’ connotations (nevertheless,
the song 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 comprised
the bulk of the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack. It also created the
iconic disco anthem, gone 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 down payment on a new polyester blue shirt, and finally, making his
way to his 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’s 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, since 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 parted
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 plays
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 desire to escape this otherwise
lethal mix of ennui and monotony, his one satisfaction achieved on the dance
floor. 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 male hero 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 a hysterical 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 Oddyssey 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 sexpot 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 quite possibly, 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 as 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
steers Bobby’s Impala through their closed garage door. The boys kick some
proverbial butt, but equally get theirs kicked in the process. 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 Oddyssey and Tony, in his best polyester, along
with Stephanie, create a sensation for their fans and the judges. 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 tries his hand at chivalry with Annette who Double J. and Joey
suggest has agreed to have sex with all of them. 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 is frightened, alone and nervous about his future. For the first time, he
may sincerely realize he does not really have one. Tony’s sincerity is a
welcomed change of pace. Stephanie infers they can start anew as ‘just friends’
– a bond, possibly to lead to more in better days yet ahead. A shaky Tony
agrees to try and be the man Stephanie deserves.
Saturday Night
Fever is a ‘time capsule’, even if it did not start out that way. Yet, in
retrospect, it typifies a certain gritty, meaningful representation of the 1970’s
that, for those of us old enough to remember them, strikes a truthful resonance
for the times, yet with something universal to say about youth struggling to
find its place in the adult world. We should also point out when the picture
had its premiere the disco era was already of the fade out, its brief
resurgence immediately following Saturday Night Fever, short-lived, but
to ensure the picture’s place in movie-land echelons as one last gasp not only
‘of’ the times, but for ‘all time’. While Paramount execs were extremely
nervous about the crude explicates being bandied about, no one could argue with
the picture’s 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, quite often with ‘sold out’
engagements 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, 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, have since embalmed this generation hung
up and drunk on its own superficial stardust, the era of sex, drugs and rock n’
roll, the burgeoning cruisin’ and drug scenes and other notorious nightclubbing
going on inside New York’s Studio 54 – all of it registering at a level of
unprecedented hedonism, was largely sanctified and canonized in this movie,
albeit with a ting of old-time Hollywood-ized glamor. Even under the
weight of its atrociously kitschy spectacle, the picture attains a heart-felt,
if slightly softcore center, the characters genuine beneath their slavish
devotion to relatively inexpensive 8th Street dudes, 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) is brought to full
fruition with as much tragedy. The heartbreak of the piece is genuine too.
Annette sacrifices her virginity. Tony’s wounded disillusionment with his
friends – revealed as fair-weather sycophants willingly lie to please him,
wears thin. Bobby’s complete implosion and act of madness…or was it suicide? In
the end, Saturday Night Fever overwhelms, perhaps in part as humanity’s
mad inhuman noise has not matured beyond those angry, wounded, brittle and
resolutely raw emotions so shrewdly expressed in Norman Wexler’s screenplay. In
the interim we have changed our clothes and hairstyles, though not much else. 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 with Wexler, merely finessing them via 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 heartache for
something to burst and liberate them - and us - from the anxieties of uncertain
times. The answer, at least according the seventies, was to be unearthed in a
disco – taking to the floor to blow off a little well-timed, if frenetic steam.
‘You Should Be Dancing’ – indeed.
Paramount’s debut of Saturday
Night Fever in native 4K is a bit of a disappointment. While visually, the
image benefits from the increased resolution, with a tighter spectrum of colors,
better resolved flesh tones, exceptional contrast and very deep blacks, grain has
been tweaked via DNR, losing its organic quality in translation. Still, the
image is mostly crisp, and grain, while unevenly resolved, nevertheless
occasionally attains authentic levels of representation. Dolby Vision has
allowed colors to pop as they should. Stephanie’s red dress is gorgeous. The
ambient light pulsating from the multi-colored nightclub floor looks
incredible. Very atmospheric. Now, for the biggest disappointment – the audio.
Both the 4K and standard Blu-ray are sourced from a 5.1 remix created for the
2017 40th anniversary Blu-ray release. Yet, while the results on the
standard Blu-ray throb with a deep base and excellent reproduction of the
songs, the 4K inexplicably sounds tinny and soft by comparison. It’s odd and a
genuine letdown. Everything else, dialogue
and SFX just sound very flat on the 4K. The Blu-ray, for whatever reason,
delivers a far more immersive audio experience. Go figure. Likewise, hoping for
a boatload of extras to materialize on the UHD is anticlimax. None appear.
Mercifully, the Blu-ray contains everything from the 40th anniversary
edition, including director, John Badham’s audio commentary (on the theatrical
cut only), plus the extensive documentary (divided into featurettes totaling
almost 80 mins.) to thoroughly cover not only the ‘making of’ this movie, but
its enduring cultural impact. We also
get a deleted scene and theatrical trailer. Bottom line: I really cannot see my
way to recommend repurchasing Saturday Night Fever in 4K. While the
image is impressive, and bests the Blu from 2017, the audio is a snore.
Besides, the extras are on the Blu anyway and the image quality of the Blu is
no slouch. Judge and buy accordingly!
FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)
4
VIDEO/AUDIO
3.5
EXTRAS
5
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