Re-Watching Saturday Night Fever

I grew up in the 70s. I was a child, granted, not going out to disco clubs, but in grade school we all knew the disco steps, we did the pointy finger maneuver, I think there are even pictures of me out there in the universe, disco-dancing as an 11 year old. This is extremely mortifying.

Disco was a moment in our culture … which for many years was like – the horrible skeleton in our shared closet. It was a HUGE trend, and the music is still played on the radio, left and right. But there’s a bit of shame attached to the 1970s thing, how we dressed, how we danced … I say, let’s be kids from the 1970s with pride!!

But still. Saturday Night Fever‘s reputation, I think, has suffered a bit because it is so attached to the dance trend no one wants to admit to having loved, or done, or taken so seriously. (I told you this would be a ramble.)

Never mind the fact that John Travolta gives what can only be called a one-of-a-kind performance. NOBODY ELSE could do that part. And even if somebody else COULD, Travolta makes you believe that nobody else could, and it’s a great performance because of that. Never mind the fact that John Travolta is an incredible dancer. Never mind the fact that the film captures a moment in time, a “tipping point” if you will – the “moment before” disco took over the world.

Never mind all of that. Because the clothes are silly, and his white suit is kind of silly, and because disco now seems a bit embarrassing … the movie doesn’t seem to get the props it deserves.

My brother called me in the middle of my viewing last night. I said, “Hi. I’m watching Saturday Night Fever right now.”

Brendan said, “Oh my God. What a movie, man. What a movie.”

“I know – right??”

And then Brendan put it perfectly, he said: “You know, yes, it’s about the dance craze, and so there are all these dance numbers … but in between all of that, it’s like … Mean Streets or something.”

Exactly. It’s gritty, it’s painful, it’s real. It’s a psychological study of the Travolta character – his life, his low expectations for himself, his family’s low expectations of him – and yet every Saturday night, he becomes King of the Disco.

The OPENING of the film. The “strut”. I mean, good God. There just is not another movie star like him.

First of all: you’ve got the dance scenes. The dude is amazing. Watch the movie again, and try not to smirk at the silliness of the costumes, and the ridiculousness of the Dance-Fever-esque moves. John Travolta is a phenomenal dancer. And not just that, he’s got that extra something: he’s a star. You MUST look at him.

But then second of all: you have the family scenes, you have his narcissist scenes (I love those) – where he just stands in his room, staring at himself in the mirror. He’s got the Rocky poster. He’s got the Farrah poster. He’s got an Al Pacino poster. And he goes into this narcissist world, where he stares at himself, but not always in a vain way – Travolta seems to stare at his own face, looking for something there. He’s looking for something. Sometimes he preens, he does his hair, but there are other times when he just looks at his reflection. It is unclear what he sees. He is trying to get inside himself, he is trying to live with himself, to BE.

And it is that struggle that makes the film great. Roger Ebert has it on his list of Great Movies – and rightly so. His essay about it is wonderful. The film, apparently, was Gene Siskel’s favorite movie – he saw it over and over and over again. Siskel loved the film so much that he bought the “white suit” at a charity auction – he HAD to have it.

In Ebert’s essay, he ponders what it was that is so special about this film, and what it was that Gene Siskel responded to so strongly – on a gut level, not an intellectual “I am a film critic” level.

Here Ebert describes what is, for me, the energy of the movie, and its lasting impact:

The most lasting images are its joyous ones, of Tony strutting down a sidewalk, dressing for the evening and dominating the disco floor in a solo dance that audiences often applaud. There’s a lot in the movie that’s sad and painful, but after a few years what you remember is John Travolta on the dance floor in that classic white disco suit, and the Bee Gees on the soundtrack.

Yes. So true. Alex called Travolta’s performance in this “iconic”, and I think she’s right. It goes beyond a character, it goes beyond acting. And … it’s partly because of Travolta’s talent, of course. But it’s more about that “tipping point” thing – a zeitgeist thing. That movie just HIT. It was the right place, the right time. It is iconic on many levels. It is a great American film.

More from Ebert, who often says things that I am unable to say:

The Travolta performance is a great cocky affirmation, and his performance is vulnerable and mostly lovable; playing a kid of 19, he looks touchingly young. The opening shots set the tone, focusing on his carefully shined shoes as he struts down the street. At home, he’s still treated like a kid. When he gets a $4 raise at the hardware store, his father says, “You know what $4 buys today? It don’t even buy $3.” But in his bedroom, with its posters of Al Pacino and “Rocky,” he strips to his bare chest, admires himself in the mirror, lovingly combs his hair, puts on his gold chains, and steps into his disco suit with a funny little undulation as he slides the zipper up.

One of the special things about this movie (and it’s present in the script – but Travolta totally makes it come alive) – is that even though Tony is kind of an asshole at times, he can be insensitive, yadda yadda … you really identify with the guy. And not only that, but you LIKE him. He yells at his mother at the dinner table, and she starts to cry. Within 2 seconds, he can’t stand it, and you can see him nearly break down. In that moment, I realized: he’s still just a kid. Yes, he’s a big man, he struts down the street, he screws girls in the backseat, etc., but he still can’t STAND IT when he has made his mother cry.

Travolta is astonishing in that scene, and in so many others.

The film’s grittiness is akin to other great New York movies – Dog Day Afternoon, Midnight Cowboy. The subways are covered in grafitti – definitely not the long sleek silver tubes they are today. They rattle, and shake, the lights go off suddenly, and outside and inside are awash in psychedelic crowded grafitti. I remember when the subways were like that. Saturday Night Fever has a completely urban atmosphere. Traffic sounds, huge overpasses, trash cans lined up, bleak open basketball courts, no greenery … A concrete jungle. But then, the doors to the club burst open (that classic scene) and you are in a different world – a world of flashing lights, and glittery belts, and flowers in the hair … where you can be somebody, where you can clean up real good, you can stand out, you can be a star. The concrete jungle suddenly opens up into a fantasy world … where it doesn’t matter if you’re poor, and you live at home with your parents. If you can dance?? Then you can BE somebody.

Disco – the great equalizer.

Tony is a star. Trapped in the body of a dumb thuggish kid. Can he break free? Can he break free of his goombah friends and make his own way? (I was particularly haunted by Barry Miller’s performance this time, wearing the pathetic platform boots, and babbling to anyone who will listen about the girlfriend he knocked up)

Ebert closes his wonderful essay about this iconic film with these very very moving words:

So why, I wonder, did this movie mean so much to Gene Siskel? Because he saw it at a certain time, I imagine. Because Tony Manero’s dreams touched him. Because while Tony was on the dance floor, his problems were forgotten and his limitations were transcended. The first time I saw “La Dolce Vita,” it represented everything I hoped to attain. Ten years later, it represented a version of what I was trapped in. Ten years after that, it represented what I had escaped from. And yet its appeal to me only grew. I had changed but the movie hadn’t; some movies are like time machines, returning us to the past.

We all have a powerful memory of the person we were at that moment when we formed a vision for our lives. Tony Manero stands poised precisely at that moment. He makes mistakes, he fumbles, he says the wrong things, but when he does what he loves he feels a special grace. How he feels, and what he does, transcend the weaknesses of the movie he is in; we are right to remember his strut, and the beauty of his dancing. “Devote your life to something you love–not like, but love,” Siskel liked to say. “Saturday Night Fever” is about how Tony Manero does that.

I think that pretty much sums it up.

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14 Responses to Re-Watching Saturday Night Fever

  1. Emily says:

    “Strut.”

  2. Dave J says:

    I’m genuinely sorry, but the first thing that enters my mind when I think of Saturday Night Fever is the parody scene in Airplane!: that may be be the funniest thing in the whole movie, and that’s saying a hell of a lot.

  3. j swift says:

    Sheesh, first a retina burning photo of the Bay Watch dude and now disco! (Shakes head)

    What happened to our founding fathers and other edifying pursuits. ;)

  4. red says:

    Edifying? My blog is supposed to be edifying?? Damn, nobody informed ME of that!!

    And j swift, you’re missing my point. I know disco is a shameful secret. But maybe if we all face it together, and embrace our history, the shame will dissipate.

    Saturday Night Fever is a great movie.

  5. j swift says:

    Just poking fun, and Saturday Night Fever is a great movie, just not one of my personal favorites. I much prefer Grease but that is mostly to do with Olivia Newton John and the tight black…what do you call that outfit she wore?

    Anyway.

    It is just that, if I watch it, it brings back visions of my small hometown, bell bottom jeans, hiking boots, polyester suits with lapels the size of elephants ears, high school, disco blaring from vans, and I have the urge to run away.

    So, it really comes from my urge to flee my small hometown, so it is really just a “personal issue”.

  6. Emily says:

    j swift – do you know they actually had to sew her into those pants?

  7. red says:

    j swift:

    hahaha No, but that’s what I’m saying! I think we all have those personal issues … and we can help one another through these tough times. And embrace our disco past. :)

    I love Grease as well. Fuggedaboutit, great movie.

  8. red says:

    The elephant-ear lapels!! Jeez the lapels!! How could an entire country be so cheesoid and not know it??

  9. j swift says:

    Re: Disco past

    Ah, I see this is a way to come to terms with Disco.

    Therapeutic and all that, okay.

    When it comes to the late 70’s and disco I prefer avoidance and denial.

    And Emily about ONJ and the black pants, now that you mention that I seem to recall hearing. Isn’t it wonderful? But then I had THE Farrah Fawcett Poster too. I don’t know if I should admit to it though.

  10. Mitchell says:

    i will be forever a disco fanatic…completely, unapologetically, and quite passionately. I theorize(with no malicious intent)..that people who hate disco…can’t dance or more likely are afraid to dance. That kind of ritualistic, orgiastic moving through space and rhythm is sexual(with disco being the soundtrack of the sexual revolution) and spiritual. Its okay if you think you cant dance..just put on an old Parliament record and shake your ass!! It feels great!

  11. Anne says:

    Facing the shame of disco together, I love it.

    I think I’ve worked through this already. I have pushed through to the other side of disco-shame. I think Whit Stillman’s Last Days of Disco helped. And, of course, the fact that it never really went away for all my gay friends. They kept the flame of disco alight.

  12. Stevie says:

    Embarrassing moment: going to see Saturday Night Fever with my …. Dad! Anyway, John Travolta has a line in the movie, he’s admonishing one of his friends to stop horsing around because his hand got hurt, and he says, “Hey! That’s my pussy finger!” And my Dad WHOOPS in hilarity. I tell you, it scarred me for life.

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