2008-06-07

Stayin' ALIIIIIIIIVE...

I got sucked into a movie the other night on VH1-Classic. A movie I hadn't seen in, gee, years, I guess.

It was like revisiting an old, bad relationship, one which you knew from the very beginning was at least nine kinds of wrong on eight different levels, but you stuck it out anyway, hoping that maybe there was going to be something positive to be eked from it. And you got dumped.

So the years pass, and you're suddenly presented with the opportunity to revisit the old, bad relationship, thinking that perhaps since you're a bit older, and presumably wiser for the wear, you can view it all with a fresh, keen, objective eye. Maybe it really wasn't THAT bad.

Only...it really pretty much WAS that bad. Really, REALLY BAD.

I watched the whole thing. I was even going to watch it again, because VH1-Classic -- with its questionable definition of the "Classic" component of its name -- aired BACK-TO-BACK showings of "Staying Alive," the christlyfuckingawful sequel to "Saturday Night Fever." And will probably continue to do so for the next six months, at least.

Like some bad relationships, there are bad movies that are so very BAD that they elicit fascination, because we cannot fathom why anyone would agree to "sign on" for them, so to speak. I can't quite decide if "Staying Alive" falls into that category of "so bad it's kind of awesome" or not. "Showgirls," for example, succeeds on some level because of its dead earnestness. It tries so hard to be an expose of the tawdry, tacky Nevadan underbelly, and winds up being utterly hilarious.

So, too, does "Staying Alive" attempt to depict the gritty life of the kids in the chorus, and the rampant sluttery on the Great White Way. Only I can't decide if it's hilarious or not.

I actually went to see this when it came out. I seem to remember I went with my sister, and perhaps a friend of ours. What I DO recall, vividly, was being singularly unable to suspend the window of disbelief in regards to "Satan's Alley," the smash Broadway sensation in which the buff, oiled-up John Travolta was given nearly-top billing.

I remember sitting there thinking, in my uppity 13-year-old-drama-geek way, that there was just NO WAY anything that AWFUL would be allowed on Broadway.

Mind you, this was about five years before "Carrie - The Musical" made its Broadway debut, and several more still before I would walk out in the middle of the stage adaptation of "Saturday Night Fever" at the Minskoff. But me and theatre -- that's a whole 'nother bad relationship analogy in and of itself.

You know what, though? Fuck it. This movie is awesome. Like when Travolta breaks out the WHITE SUIT (with minor 80's alterations) to go to a party thrown by stuck-up slutty Finola Hughes? Look at him BURN with passion.

He's thinking: "DAMN. LOVE that pantsuit."

I'm definitely watching this the next time it's on. Hell, it may be on RIGHT NOW.

lisamcc at 8:46 p.m.



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