John Travolta. The name itself conjures images of slick dance moves and iconic movie moments. While celebrated for his role in dance classics, not every step Travolta took on screen was a critical darling. “Staying Alive,” the 1983 sequel to the monumental “Saturday Night Fever,” stands as a perplexing entry in his filmography, and in the realm of dance movies in general. This film, directed by Sylvester Stallone, raises eyebrows and elicits unintended laughter, prompting questions about its very existence and Travolta’s involvement.
Reprising his role as Tony Manero, the Brooklyn dancer with big hair and an even bigger ambition, Travolta attempts to navigate the competitive world of professional dance in “Staying Alive.” Manero trades the disco floor for the Broadway stage, striving to become a star. The film charts his arduous journey, supposedly a gripping tale of perseverance. However, what unfolds is often perceived as a bizarre and unintentionally comedic spectacle.
The movie’s dramatic centerpiece, the Broadway play “Satan’s Alley,” exemplifies its outlandish nature. Depicting a descent into hell through interpretive dance, the play is a whirlwind of laser lights, fog machines, and dancers in minimal attire. “Satan’s Alley” is presented as cutting-edge Broadway, yet its sheer absurdity undermines any artistic merit. It’s a dance-only production, devoid of dialogue, singing, or meaningful character development, pushing the boundaries of theatrical plausibility, even surpassing the strangeness of shows like “Cats” in its incoherence.
Adding to the film’s peculiarity is Travolta’s portrayal under Stallone’s direction. In many scenes, Manero’s persona seems less “Saturday Night Fever” and more akin to Stallone’s own iconic character, Rambo. Each dance sequence oscillates between two extremes: an excessive display of sweat and grease, or an uncomfortable focus on Travolta’s overly emphasized physique, thanks to exceedingly tight dance pants. This direction contributes to the film’s overall sense of self-seriousness that clashes dramatically with its actual quality.
“Staying Alive” ultimately becomes a fascinating case study in cinematic misfires. The film exudes an air of self-importance, as if Stallone and the production team genuinely believed they were crafting a masterpiece. This inflated sense of self, evident in every frame, amplifies the movie’s unintentional comedic value. While far from a critically acclaimed dance movie for John Travolta, “Staying Alive” secures its place as a memorable, albeit for all the wrong reasons, entry in the genre and his career. It’s a recommended watch, but primarily for those who appreciate the unique charm of truly terrible cinema.
