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Review : Film
Reviews
Whit Stillman's The Last Days of Disco:
Life for some in the "very early 1980s"
By David Walsh
24 June 1998
Director Whit Stillman, the son of Franklin D. Roosevelt's
administrative aide, makes films, in his own words, about the
"urban haute bourgeoisie." In The Last Days of Disco,
set in the "very early 1980s," a number of WASPish college
graduates try to make their way in careers and in love. A hip
Manhattan club is at the center of their social life. The character
through whose eyes we see most of the goings-on is a sad-eyed,
relative innocent named Alice (Chloë Sevigny). She and her
pretty, self-centered roommate, Charlotte (Kate Beckinsale), work
in publishing at relatively meager salaries. They search for the
bestseller that will earn them a promotion. Meanwhile they share
a railroad apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan with
Holly (Tara Subkoff), attractive but fairly empty-headed.
The three young women attract and circulate with and among
a number of young men: Des (Chris Eigeman), an assistant to the
club's drug-dealing owner; Jimmy (Mackenzie Astin), a young adman
whose job depends on his ability to get clients into the club;
Josh (Matt Keeslar), an assistant district attorney with a history
of emotional difficulties; Dan (Matt Ross), a co-worker with a
self-conscious disdain for the upper classes; Tom (Sean Robert
Leonard), a Harvard graduate and environment lawyer, supposedly
on the rebound from a failed relationship.
Various triangles form and dissolve. Alice has an original
interest in Jimmy; sleeps with Tom, who promptly drops her; takes
up with the womanizing Des; and finally chooses Josh, unstable
but sincere. In the background more serious problems loom. The
district attorney's office is interested in the thriving drug
trade going on at the club. Josh and Des, rivals for Alice, find
themselves on opposite sides of the law as well.
The Last Days of Disco is Stillman's third feature film.
His first, Metropolitan (1990), looked at a few months
in the lives of Manhattan debutantes and their escorts. Ads for
the films read: "Doomed. Bourgeois. In Love." Barcelona
(1994) examined some of the same emotional and sociological territory,
this time its subjects being well-off Americans residing in Spain.
Stillman's films are intelligently written. His direction is
discreet and well-paced. He has a feel for the dynamics and conviviality
of people in social settings. Indeed his group scenes are invariably
greater than the sum of the one-on-one encounters that go on.
One can't help suspecting that Charlotte speaks for Stillman when
she inveighs against the "ferocious pairing off" that
is the inevitable outcome of any social scene. If his films are
at their most carefree in bars and clubs, they are at their most
melancholy in bedrooms. Seduction is usually a prelude to heartache
or worse. In Alice's case it leads to several unpleasant ailments
and a trip to the doctor and the pharmacist.
One can make a number of favorable comments about Stillman's
films, but inevitably one runs up against certain difficulties.
The chief problem is not so much the circumscribed lives his characters
lead--almost anyone's life can be the subject of art--as it is
the deliberately circumscribed and inconsistent approach Stillman
takes to them.
First, one must point out that the "very early 1980s"
bring to mind different things to different people. Some of us
think of the election of Reagan, the PATCO strike, and so forth.
Is Stillman obliged to take those events into account? Certainly
not. But a work that so conspicuously and determinedly
makes a point of ignoring larger issues puts one on guard. After
all, even the most self-absorbed read newspapers, watch television
and make comments about the panorama of world events. With The
Last Days of Disco one is alerted from the outset to the fact
that certain problems may be discussed and others may not.
Furthermore, are we to assume that there is anything critical,
or even incisively ironic, in the director's treatment of these
privileged, and not terribly bright people? His film's title suggests
something momentous coming to an end, as in The Last Days of
Pompeii. Of course one is supposed to recognize the joke.
In the grand scheme of things, the director is telling us ahead
of time, this is pretty inconsequential stuff. But one has the
feeling that Stillman wants to have his cake and eat it too.
Like many contemporary works of this type, the film is not
sincere in its insubstantiality. Stillman makes fun of his characters'
brainlessness--the only cultural references in the film are to
Disney's Lady and the Tramp, Bambi and Uncle Scrooge
comic books--and then asks us to take their emotional traumas
seriously. He wants credit both for exposing their amusing prattle
(which also serves the purpose of demonstrating that he is smarter
than they are) and for demonstrating sensitivity about
their dilemmas. Corresponding to this division in approach, the
characters in the film tend to gravitate toward one of two poles:
Charlotte and Des toward mindless fun--the scenes they dominate
are built around getting laughs, not by the internal logic of
the narrative; Alice, Josh and perhaps Jimmy toward seriousness--one
is supposed to read their faces for pain.
Alternately sneering at, speaking through and seeking sympathy
for his characters Stillman is incapable of providing a satisfying
perspective on them. One doesn't know which attitude to trust.
And so when--in the film's final scene--an entire subway train
and station platform break into disco dancing inspired by Alice
and Josh, one is not entirely willing to be seduced by a democratic
gesture that comes too late and may or may not express the director's
deepest sentiments.
See Also:
The Truman Show: Further signs
of life in Hollywood
[15 June 1998]
Bulworth: A little of
John Reed, after all
[27 May 1998]
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