A punk, which refers to a particular kind of young male macho character with few or no redeeming qualities, has its own term where I’m from. Young men who are loud, racist, sexist, and show little consideration for others are known as punks. John Badham did a character study on these punks for his debut feature film in 1977, and he got it exactly right, giving them a limelight they don’t deserve. At the same time, the film’s original soundtrack was a huge smash, capitalizing on the disco craze that was at its height at the time of its release. The upbeat dancing, realistic exposé, and catchy disco music of urban life made “Saturday Night Fever” a tremendous commercial and critical hit.
The Brooklyn-based film is a type of coming-of-age tale for Tony Manero, who is 19 years old (played by John Travolta in the role that turned him into a movie star). Tony, a second or third generation Sicilian American who dropped out of high school, lives at home and works as a paint salesman in a hardware shop. His existence reminded me of the Easy Beats song “Friday on My Mind” from the 1960s, where Saturday replaces Friday. On that day, he goes out to dance at the local disco with his friends. In order to earn enough money to purchase ostentatious, colorful attire that they may flaunt at the disco on Saturday, they work Monday through Friday and take Sundays off. Tony, the club’s top local dancer, has committed to a dance competition with his off-and-on dancing partner Annette (Donna Pescow). One day an amateur ballerina who works as a secretary from Manhattan comes to his club, and he is hooked. They meet again at a dance studio that Tony practices in, and both decide to enter the competition as a couple.
Years later, in the 1980s, a film with a similar concept, “Dirty Dancing,” carried this topic to its blatantly sentimental and schlocky climax. However, this is a gritty, low-budget music drama from the 1970s that centers on punk life against a grim, filthy metropolitan backdrop. Yes, there are throbbing strobes and dazzling lights at the disco. However, its language and premise are darker than those of those corny love comedies, and its streets look like something from a Scorsese movie. As evidenced by the image of Rocky Balboa that hangs on the wall of Tony’s room, there is a little bit of Rocky in Tony. Tony, who is Italian, will like all of the Italian celebrities of this era whenever he feels like it. He likes it when people compare him to Pacino. I am sure that Travolta, the actor, also wanted that comparison. Pacino he is not, but he fits the bill of an Italian American punk perfectly.
Two sequences from “Saturday Night Fever” are the most well-known. Even now, I still like watching both of them. One of the greatest movie openings ever is the first one. In a bright red button-down shirt, tight black bell-bottom slacks, shining brown pointed shoes, and a black leather jacket—which I presume was meant to evoke a connection to Brando’s 1950s punk—Tony is parading around the streets of Brooklyn. The famous Bee Gees disco tune “Staying Alive” is playing in the background as Travolta struts down the street like a peacock, using his entire body. It is fascinating how conceited he is. This is obviously a parody of the opening sequence from the Blaxploitation movie “Shaft.” The parallels between both scenes are undeniable. Both have their main hero strut out on the street as if he is loved by all and both to a funky beat of a super popular song. The difference being the street loved and respected Shaft. Tony is mostly ignored, and the only people who really notice his play on superiority are himself and, of course, the movie’s viewing audience. It is a credit to Travolta that he pulls it off so believably. It absorbed me watching him, laughing to myself at how much this guy lives in an escapist dream world. It is this world of disco dancing and spotlight that helps him get through his dull ordinary life.
Tony dancing alone on the dance floor, performing some of the most ridiculous and cliched dance moves ever devised, is the second iconic moment. What makes it unforgettable is that Travolta executes these moves flawlessly, adding such flawless physical control that he virtually elevates the dance. The performance is quite impressive. Disco fans worldwide would attempt to imitate him for years afterward because he is so adept at it. This is a fantastic illustration of how art influences culture.
Regarding the film, it is a mixed bag. The plot is given life by effectively rendered parts of gritty street life representations of urban violence and living in the 1970s. However, the plot’s convoluted romance and overly large cast would make it unworkable. Tony’s pals lack depth and are only heads on bodies. Donna Pescow, who plays the slightly overweight girl Annette, who falls in love with Tony, has the best character and the best performance. The guy who portrayed Father Karras in “The Exorcist” is strikingly similar to Tony’s brother, a priest. I’m fairly certain that’s why Martin Shaker was chosen for the part. His subplot of disappointing the family by quitting the priesthood seemed superfluous to me. As the love interest, Karen Lynn Gorney is pretty much background music to Tony and his lifestyle. Her ability to care for him was never believable to me. There is also a pointless scene of melodrama revolving around Tony’s best friend tacked on to add plastic suspense. The way this friend was so quickly forgotten just emphasized how pointless his sub-plot was to the story.
This film, in my opinion, is a fairly accurate portrayal of America’s aimless Disco punks of the 70s. These young men are not very smart, and they enjoy making fun of other people in order to support themselves. They are therefore sexist and racist. Despite the film’s pathetic attempts to give Tony feelings and empathy, he remained a rather nasty punk the entire time. If that is what the film was attempting to depict, then it is OK. My problem is that I thought the film’s creators were attempting to portray Tony as an anti-hero who improves at the end. He never sold that to me.
I also found the film’s treatment of the subject of rape to be unsettling. Stephanie will let Tony inside her apartment for a heart-to-heart after he tries to rape her. Tony waits in silence in a car at one point while two of his friends rape Annette. Not only do they get away with it, but no one seems really outraged about it afterwards, not even Annette.
The first half of this movie, with its wonderful urban spotlight, punk culture exposé, and well-choreographed portrayal of a bygone 70s lifestyle, was, I must say, pretty enjoyable. It’s a great watch because of Travolta’s charisma and the catchy music. It still seems rather antiquated to me, and a dated film requires a compelling narrative to get over its impression of being out of style. Sadly, “Saturday Night Fever” doesn’t have a compelling enough plot to get over its own problems.
