In the seventies, my theatre department was offered the opportunity to sponsor a school dance. This was huge for my nonexistent budget. The possible profits would help me create a larger set, more costumes, and props, and cover royalty fees for our next musical. We were all in. My Thespians and I were determined to pack the gym. After all, my group of actors and crew members could do anything we envisioned if we worked together as a team.
My students wanted to attach a theme to the dance. At first, we considered a masquerade ball or even a sci-fi event, but in the end, there could only be one choice. It had to be disco. We decorated every nook and corner of the gym, complete with several large disco balls hanging from the high rafters, and glittery entryways. My student DJ was prepared to play non-stop, hit, pulsating music all night long.
Disco was hot. Everyone wanted to dance like they were STAYING ALIVE and wear the clothes featured on TV or in the movies. We even held lessons available for the student body before the dance. I remember taking part in those classes. I wanted to dance the night away just like everyone else. I was only in my 20’s, not much older than my teenage students. We did amazing PR, and the entire school was abuzz.
There was one male student of mine who literally was the best dancer in the school. His name was Jacques. He could move and guide any partner to any beat. He decided to start the evening off with a special solo routine with a partner of his choice. He wanted it to be me. Of course, I protested. I was his teacher. He was a student in my advanced theatre class. Everyone wore me down. Each point I would bring up for not doing it was just torn apart. I finally relented, but I knew it would take a ton of work to make me a disco queen.
Jacques and I practiced very hard. He wouldn’t let me back down. We practiced every day for several weeks in my classroom, surrounded by my other students, offering criticism and encouragement. It really was fun, and my confidence grew.
The night of the dance, Jacques and I stood in the center of the gym floor, perfectly costumed and coiffed with big hair and heavy makeup. It was a moment I will never forget, and we strutted off after we performed to cheering crowds of students and faculty. I loved every minute. I stood on the sidelines later with my colleagues and just quietly laughed and smiled to myself. The dance was a wonderful success. The gym was filled with happy vibes and joy.
This is a treasured moment in my life, and I have the joyous opportunity to relive the magic every time I hear the beat of a disco tune. My memory box jolts open, my feet start moving, and I am back on that dance floor. Few movies can replicate that feeling of pure abandonment. The power of disco died as most fads do, but luckily, in 1977, SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER broke out, and the rest was history, relaunching forgotten dance moves once again.
SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER didn’t win a single award, but it did connect with young people of all ages. It only cost $2 million but grossed close to $240 million worldwide. It was a pop-culture phenomenon that launched John Travolta into the stratosphere, along with his white leisure suits and silky, form-fitting shirts not all the way buttoned, showing off chest hair and gold jewelry.
SNF catapulted The Bee Gees into rock-and-roll fame forever. The Gibb Brothers, Andy, Robin, and Maurice, created the iconic music. (STAYING ALIVE, HOW DEEP IS YOUR LOVE, IF I CAN’T HAVE YOU) A fun fact most people don’t know is that they weren’t hired until the movie was in post-production. Travolta didn’t dance to The Bee Gees while performing his big, complex dance solo at the 2001 Odyssey Club, but then again, he can dance to anything that has a beat.
Travolta was worried at first that the role of Tony might be too close to his WELCOME BACK KOTTER character. If it was, no one cared. Fans just loved him, no matter if he moved his hips or combed his gorgeous, thick hair into the perfect look. He was considered a hunk. Everyone knew that. All anyone had to do was look into his deep, soul-searching eyes. Yet he was relatable not only to the women but to the guys as well. He spoke their language and strutted with a ballsy attitude, even when he was only carrying a can of paint down a Brooklyn Street in New York.
Travolta’s characterization of Tony was spot-on. He explored the confusion about who Tony wanted to be and how to escape the constraints of his dysfunctional family and friends. This was compelling. He personified what every teenager thinks about as they get older. What is my place in this world? What do I want to do with the rest of my life? These same questions plagued Tony throughout the film until the very last frame. Growing up is hard, and in SNF, Travolta presented a brilliant, raw, inside look at what it takes to hit bottom and come up on the other side.
Travolta is a consummate dancer. He created his solo dance routine at the club. He worked on it for months, dancing for hours every day and running two miles each morning. He lost twenty pounds in the process. Two identical white suits had to be made because he would sweat through the first one, which had to be dried off and redressed for the rest of the scene. The director, John Badham, also let Travolta edit his celluloid dance moves for the final cut. Travolta wanted everyone to know he was doing each move on screen. Many film critics compared his talent to Gene Kelly.
Badham believed in ad-libbing when necessary. He allowed Travolta’s “Attica, Attica” line when shuffling into the bathroom wearing only his tiny undies in front of his grandmother to remain in the film, as well as Travolta yelling at his father not to touch his hair. Badham also didn’t tell Annette (Donna Pescow) when the boys were going to jump off the bridge. Her reaction of screaming and yelling “You Fuckers” was not planned. Badham fought to keep the language-and-underbelly side in SNF. He didn’t want to sugarcoat any of the deadly moments.
This is what drew the infamous movie critic, Gene Siskel of Siskel and Ebert fame, to SNF. Siskel went on record as saying SNF was his favorite film, having seen it 17 times and purchasing Travolta’s white jacket at auction for over $100,000. He said he loved the grit and honesty behind a “dancical” movie. It was always the better choice, he said, over GREASE. I so agree.
Karen Lynn Gorney, as Stephanie, said in later interviews that she had to really catch up to Travolta on the dance floor. I never did understand that casting choice. Her portrayal always fell flat compared to Annette’s. Pescow’s interpretation felt more realistic of a young woman who didn’t know if she wanted to be a nice girl or a “C.” My heart broke for her and her unrequited love. As an actress, Pescow gained 40 pounds and recreated her Brooklyn roots through her strong accent. She was spellbinding pathetically.
The entire ensemble surrounding Tony was well cast, along with his obnoxious, overreligious parents and older brother. Their hotheaded, loud, narcissistic schtick was genius. Kudos to Tony’s “boy gang” of jealous, horny, crude, thrill-seekers. The Italian, Brooklyn, family lifestyle was not showcased in the best light of day.
SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER is a legendary dance classic that changed the face of what musicals could be about while purposely not ending with a happily-ever-after. It sparked a slew of heavy-topic, dance-themed movies that tackled issues most people didn’t want to talk about. Families weren’t like the smiling sitcoms projected on television. Life was tough in the 70’s. Change was breaking down glass ceilings all over the world. SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER just made us remove our rose-colored glasses and take a good, hard look at ourselves and our goals. I know because I stopped wearing mine after seeing this movie. I don’t know where Jacques landed after graduation. It was impossible to stay in touch with everyone. This used to make me sad. I learned to accept that life journeys take us all along individual paths. I hope the years have been kind to Jacques, and wherever he is, he is still dancing.
SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER is available to rent on Prime Video.
