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Staying Alive
A definite contender for the worst sequel ever made, 1983's Staying Alive suffers from a cliched and juvenile screenplay, lethargic direction, wooden performances, and an overall air of ignorance regarding the subject matter.
This film is a sequel to Saturday Night Fever, the smash hit of 1977 that made John Travolta a movie star. Travolta once again steps into the dance shoes of Toniy Manero, who has now abandoned Brooklyn and has decided to become a dancer on Broadway. Tony is working as a waiter and a dance teacher but he finally gets cast in the chorus of a Broadway show called SATAN'S ALLEY.
As rehearsals begin, Tony finds himself involved with two very different women in the show. Jackie (Cynthia Rhodes) teaches at the same school where Tony does and has been his BFF since moving to New York. She is mad about him but he keeps blowing her off once he meets Laura (Finola Hughes), the star of the show, a wealthy arrogant diva who is amused by Tony's attraction to her, but has no real feelings for the guy.
Incredibly, this film was the brainchild of Sylvester Stallone, who is billed as Executive Producer and inhabited the director's chair for the first time in a project that didn't involve Rocky Balboa (he even makes a brief cameo appearance near the beginning of the film). I don't know what Stallone was thinking here, because the Broadway musical theater was something Stallone was apparently ignorant about, which comes through in every frame of this movie. We have scene after scene of Broadway dancers going through grueling dance routines set to disco tunes by the Bee Gees and Stallone's brother, Frank, who Stallone does try to showcase here.
There's just too much going on here supposedly on Broadway that would NEVER happen IRL. Tony would not be allowed to hang backstage during Jackie's show or visit Laura's dressing room. He would not be allowed to disrespect the leading lady or the director the way he does here and still be in the show. Oh, and let's talk about this alleged Broadway show, SATAN'S ALLEY...a Broadway musical has songs and dialogue. This was just Travolta leaping around onstage in a loincloth while dancers clawed at him...this was not a musical, this was a ballet. I wish Stallone had done a little more research into theater and how it works before attempting this debacle.
Travolta looks appropriately embarrassed to be involved in this mess. Clearly, he knew how stupid this was too. Cynthia Rhodes and Finola Rhodes' wooden performances were nothing to shout about either...Rhodes would fare a little better a few years later in Dirty Dancing and Hughes would eventually find a show business niche on daytime television playing Anna Devane on General Hospital. Julie Bovasso makes a very convenient cameo as Tony's mother, the only cast member from the first film to appear here besides Travolta. The screenplay has all the depth of a Mickey Rooney Judy Garland musical and the choreography is undisciplined and uninteresting. Luckily, both Travolta and Stallone's careers managed to survive this hot mess.
A definite contender for the worst sequel ever made, 1983's Staying Alive suffers from a cliched and juvenile screenplay, lethargic direction, wooden performances, and an overall air of ignorance regarding the subject matter.
This film is a sequel to Saturday Night Fever, the smash hit of 1977 that made John Travolta a movie star. Travolta once again steps into the dance shoes of Toniy Manero, who has now abandoned Brooklyn and has decided to become a dancer on Broadway. Tony is working as a waiter and a dance teacher but he finally gets cast in the chorus of a Broadway show called SATAN'S ALLEY.
As rehearsals begin, Tony finds himself involved with two very different women in the show. Jackie (Cynthia Rhodes) teaches at the same school where Tony does and has been his BFF since moving to New York. She is mad about him but he keeps blowing her off once he meets Laura (Finola Hughes), the star of the show, a wealthy arrogant diva who is amused by Tony's attraction to her, but has no real feelings for the guy.
Incredibly, this film was the brainchild of Sylvester Stallone, who is billed as Executive Producer and inhabited the director's chair for the first time in a project that didn't involve Rocky Balboa (he even makes a brief cameo appearance near the beginning of the film). I don't know what Stallone was thinking here, because the Broadway musical theater was something Stallone was apparently ignorant about, which comes through in every frame of this movie. We have scene after scene of Broadway dancers going through grueling dance routines set to disco tunes by the Bee Gees and Stallone's brother, Frank, who Stallone does try to showcase here.
There's just too much going on here supposedly on Broadway that would NEVER happen IRL. Tony would not be allowed to hang backstage during Jackie's show or visit Laura's dressing room. He would not be allowed to disrespect the leading lady or the director the way he does here and still be in the show. Oh, and let's talk about this alleged Broadway show, SATAN'S ALLEY...a Broadway musical has songs and dialogue. This was just Travolta leaping around onstage in a loincloth while dancers clawed at him...this was not a musical, this was a ballet. I wish Stallone had done a little more research into theater and how it works before attempting this debacle.
Travolta looks appropriately embarrassed to be involved in this mess. Clearly, he knew how stupid this was too. Cynthia Rhodes and Finola Rhodes' wooden performances were nothing to shout about either...Rhodes would fare a little better a few years later in Dirty Dancing and Hughes would eventually find a show business niche on daytime television playing Anna Devane on General Hospital. Julie Bovasso makes a very convenient cameo as Tony's mother, the only cast member from the first film to appear here besides Travolta. The screenplay has all the depth of a Mickey Rooney Judy Garland musical and the choreography is undisciplined and uninteresting. Luckily, both Travolta and Stallone's careers managed to survive this hot mess.