THE STRAIGHT DOPE:
After a couple decades of being savaged by critics you're probably
expecting me to trash Staying Alive. Well, you'd be wrong, my friend, because
what you don't know is that this film is one of my all-time favorites.
Now, granted, the film's director and cowriter, auteur Sylvester
Stallone, probably didn't envision me rolling around the floor,
gripping
my belly, laughing at his creation, but if his goal was simply to bring
joy to his audience, he couldn't have succeeded better.
Staying Alive has to be one of the most ludicrously
ill-conceived
films ever made. Ostensibly a sequel to the disco classic Saturday
Night Fever, Staying Alive picks up the character of Tony
Manero, played once again by John Travolta, a couple of years after the
Bee Gees-scored finale of that film. Now, however, Tony has left
Brooklyn
and is living in a Manhattan flea-bag trying to hustle jobs as a
Broadway dancer. The film takes Tony, the unpolished mook from the
streets, and drops him in a risky relationship with a glitzy
high-society dancer (Finola Hughes), something that doesn't sit well
with his more down-to-earth girlfriend (Cynthia Rhodes). Chance and
hard
work give Tony the opportunity to play a lead role in a major Broadway
production. But does he take it? Does he dare?
The basic plot is nothing special. Dozens of movies follow the
identical
progression. What makes Staying Alive so deliriously special is
the unbelievably loopy atmosphere, dialog, music and costumes. Stallone
(an extremely odd choice to cowrite and direct. He had exactly what to
do with the first film?) must have never seen a Broadway musical in his
life. The shows shown here are about as authentic as one of Ed Wood's
cardboard gravestones. Just when the weird synth-rock score,
unbelievably stupid choreography and gold braid headbands seem to be
enough he has to throw in a shot of the orchestra - which consists of
instruments like trombone and trumpet. What they have to do with the
Eighties Casio-pop music is beyond me.
The dialog itself is like
a
character in the film. Nearly every line is a non-sequitur, from
Travolta's constant references to "breakfast" to his inept wooing of
Hughes ("Where exactly are you imported from, the vicinity of England?") to minor sluts at a bar ("Guys like you aren't
relationships. You're exercise!"). Every head-scratching minute
of this movie sounds like a radio dial stuck between two different
stations.
The music may be the most rewarding thing in the film.
The Bee Gees title song is reprised from the first film but is
inexplicably out of date here (even though it's still a great tune.)
There are a few "new" Bee Gees songs here, mostly unmemorable. Where
the
film does excel, however, is in providing ample proof of the musical
talent of the director's brother, the inimitable Frank Stallone. Not
only are his amazing rock mega-classics "Far From Over" and "Moody
Girl"
here but his gorgeous duets with Cynthia Rhodes on "Finding Out the
Hard Way" and "Never Gonna Give You Up," not to mention Tommy Farager's
rousing "So Close to the Fire" and "Look Out For Number One."
Actually,
these songs are so jaw-droppingly terrible that you have to laugh until
you cry. When Rhodes and Stallone perform their barroom rock act they
are so incredibly out of place (especially considering the bar looks
suspiciously like punk temple CBGB's) that every big-belted shimmy move
from Rhodes and every squealing guitar solo from Stallone has the ability to turn the
hardest audience member into a quivering pool of guffawing
jelly.
Topping it all off are the performances. Travolta is howlingly bad as
Manero. What kind of sympathy we're supposed to have for the guy is
beyond me. He's a lout plus a bit of a stalker. His greasy, sweaty
torso
may have gotten him the gig but his freshly-shaven ape looks and
marble-mouthed line readings make it tough to understand how he's ever
been taken seriously. Finola Hughes (longtime star of All My
Children) is suitably trashy in a role that would have worked
equally well for a drag queen. She struts around in fur coats like she's
the greatest thing since sliced ham and everyone else in the movie
seems to agree. The funny thing is that for every statement
about how her dancing is like "watching smoke move" she's actually an
incompetent dancer who kicks her legs a lot and occasionally flails her
arms. None of the dancing in this movie is impressive (or even real
dancing) but hers has a special slot as the worst. And poor Cynthia
Rhodes, who always plays some sort of put-upon character elicits the
most sympathy as the sad puppy-eyed girlfriend to Travolta's
sleezeball.
This film is part of the Great Trilogy of Cynthia Rhodes Eighties
movies (along with Flashdance and Dirty Dancing) over the course of which she is forced to endure innumerable indignities from having a botched abortion to stripping in a dive. Her humiliation in Staying Alive is limited to being played for a fool by the lecherous Manero character but she still comes off as the sweetest member of the cast. Oh, Cynthia! Our tragic
heroine!
And, finally, there's the issue of "Satan's Alley," the musical in
which
that Travolta lands the lead. Covered in god-awful Bob Mackie costumes,
the cast writhes and moans through what one character calls a "journey
through hell that ends with an ascent into heaven." If the heaven is a
heaven of schlock bliss, then that pretty much sums up Staying
Alive as well.
VIDEO:
The anamorphic widescreen video looks fine although Stallone's lifeless
imagery will always be dull and ugly. The print starts with some dirt
but is mostly clean and clear.
AUDIO:
The film is available in Dolby Digital 5.1 and stereo surround. Both
sound fine with the 5.1 actually sounding pretty good especially during
the music. The production is decent. A very funny French track is also
available as are English and Spanish subtitles.
EXTRAS:
None. Not even a Frank Stallone commentary
track!
FINAL
THOUGHTS:
If you've ever wanted your own Mystery Science Theater
experience, this turkey is for you. While Paramount's disc is typically
bare and outrageously overpriced I guarantee you that if you have a
good sense of humor and like-minded friends this disc will get plenty
of
play in your house. There are a lot of cheesy films from this decade,
including Ice Castles and anything with Theresa Russell but none
is as outrageously, thick-headedly stupid as good old Staying
Alive.
Email Gil
Jawetz at cinemagotham@yahoo.com
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