STUDIO 54 (Matt Tyrnauer). 99 minutes. Opens Friday (October 12). See listing. Rating: NNN
Studio 54 is as overexposed as Andy Warhol, one of its most famous patrons. The storied New York City nightclub, which existed for 33 months in the late 70s, has come to represent sexual liberation and the rise and fall of disco hedonism. It frequently pops up in documentaries covering the era and was the subject of a Hollywood movie in the 90s.
Director Matt Tyrnauer gives Studio 54 its due with a straightforward talking head/archival clips doc, but manages to inject fresh insight thanks to an extensive interview with co-owner Ian Schrager, as well as a trove of previously unseen 16 mm footage and photos.
After a sombre précis foreshadowing Studio 54’s short lifespan, Tyrnauer gets into the financing, construction, creative vision, marketing, opening night and notoriously stringent door policy. The club was an instant success, giving rise to modern celebrity culture and journalism.
But it all ended when Schrager and co-owner Steve Rubell, who died of AIDS complications in 1989, were caught skimming millions off the club’s books and convicted of tax evasion. (Now, 71, Schrager has since become a successful hotelier and was pardoned by President Barack Obama in 2017.)
Unlike Tyrnauer’s Scotty And The Secret History Of Hollywood, this is not a kiss-and-tell nor all that revelatory, but we get interesting details on how the club operated, from lighting and interior design to notations on the guest list indicating which celebs had to pay to get in (members of the Rolling Stones who weren’t Mick Jagger or Keith Richards).
Most of the imagery comes from cameras that kept a safe distance from the dance floor, so Tyrnauer does a good job of getting us closer to the action in archival material that gives a clear sense of the club’s interior and layout. The scenes capturing the experience of partying there are the most affecting. In one sequence, a patron describes the ritual of getting in, tossing her coat at the chaotic coat check and making a beeline for the dance floor as Sylvester’s You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real) throbs on the soundtrack.
But primarily the story is from the perspective of the business and operations side. Tyrnauer occasionally prods his subjects on money and mafia connections (Schrager’s dad was a mobster named Max the Jew) and hits walls. There are a few awkward exchanges, like when Schrager says he and Rubell spent $400,000 opening the club and silent partner Jack Dushey – seated next to him – interrupts to say it was more like $700,000.
Schrager ultimately owns up to his role in Studio 54’s downfall, but you get the impression a truly definitive account of the finances is impossible.
Studio 54’s position in queer culture is largely told through Rubell’s story. There’s a fascinating archival interview with Michael Jackson about his admiration for the closeted co-owner, who became a legendary figure (and source of cash and drugs). The doc briefly defers to Chic’s Nile Rodgers to explain Studio 54’s significance as a safe space for people of all genders, ethnicities, ages and sexualities, but its position in dance music culture – for better or worse – gets short shrift. (No DJs are interviewed.)
Tyrnauer zeroes in on the irony of how a place representing freedom was so exclusive. Rubell and Schrager’s strict door policy was derided as elitist and, the director posits, is what made the club enemies. It’s a familiar analysis that feeds the personal downfall narrative in the latter part of the film, rather than suggest the complexities around what Studio 54 has come to represent in pop culture. With few queer or POC – or even celebrity – voices among the talking heads, the film skims over the necessity of keeping some people out in order to maintain a safe space. Creating an inclusive vibe is brought up, but it doesn’t square with archival images of some celebs now accused of sexual misconduct.
Yes, Studio 54 was more about mainstream celebrity than underground culture. Tyrnauer surely had an avalanche of material to sift through and many queer partiers died from AIDS, but the third act’s lengthy focus on old men and shady business dealings gets a bit dry. This is the most thorough portrait of Studio 54 yet, but grows less compelling the further away it moves from the dance floor.
movies@nowtoronto.com | @kevinritchie
