March Expiration Watch: More Musical Chairs (2014)

I'm hard-pressed to find any rhyme or reason in the licensing agreements between Netflix and the studios and distributors who provide its content. You'd think that if you're going to pay for the rights to stream, say, an all-time classic like Billy Wilder's Sunset Boulevard, you'd want it to stick around for more than a couple of months, right? And yet, after debuting in February, this brilliant Hollywood satire is now returning from whence it came (to some virtual equivalent of a studio vault?). The same goes for Play It Again, Sam (review) and Breakfast at Tiffany's, both of which reappeared in January after expiring last year and are once again exiting stage left. Finishing equally brief stays are the underappreciated Racing with the Moon and Catch-22—bringing to mind those on-again/off-again Coppola films last seen in January.

Olivia D'abo, Josh Hamilton

At least Darren Aronofsky's Pi (review) got to stick around for a full year before it gets the axe on the 31st [update: it's been renewed], which is more than can be said for 1995's Kicking and Screaming, which showed up less than 30 days ago and is already getting its pink slip. It's hard to believe the streaming rights to such a small film cost all that much, so why not pay for a longer-term license? Else why bother? After all, despite its many charms, Noah Baumbach's first feature is hardly the kind of prestige flick that will get people signing up for Netflix in droves. Such a brief visit seems far more appropriate (if cynical) for a recent blockbuster, no? Netflix could even build a marketing campaign around it: "Now, for one month only, catch up on all the X-Men movies before the new sequel's premiere!" Heck, do that several times a year prior to big summer and holiday releases, and it would boost business for all concerned (and Netflix might even be able to score a licensing discount in exchange for the joint publicity).

New March Titles: Exiles' Return (2014)

So many new and returning titles this month! Whether by accident or design, Netflix seems to be making up for some of its recent deletions. Already back from the January 1 "great purge" are a number of classics including Easy Rider (1969), Roman Holiday (1953), Serpico (1973), and True Grit (1969), along with popular favorites The Bad News Bears (1976), Dirty Dancing (1987), and As Good As It Gets (1997). Fans of the late Phillip Seymour Hoffman will also be pleased to see Capote (2005) return to the fold.

Also returning: a veritable slew of Robert Altman films, from the good to the great to the misguided, bringing the director's total number of streaming titles to an impressive nine. No telling how long they'll stick around this time, but must-sees are The Long Goodbye (1973) and Thieves Like Us (1974); should-sees are Streamers (1983), a stark, underappreciated adaptation of David Rabe's play, and the Tim Roth tour de force, Vincent & Theo (1990). In the "misguided but rarely seen" category is O.C. & Stiggs (1985), Altman's satirical attempt at a teen comedy that remains fascinating despite its flaws. This intermittently funny oddity is worth watching for Dennis Hopper alone, who seems to be reprising his stoner-photographer character from Apocalypse Now, complete with a "Ride of the Valkyries" attack. Martin Mull, Ray Walston, and Jane Curtin also join the fun. Bizarre? Entertaining? Misunderstood? I can guarantee you at least two.

February Expiration Watch: Spreading the Pain (2014)

Netflix offers up its inevitable end-of-month misery to movie lovers in the next couple of days, pulling the plug on a wide mix of titles that many of us would rather stay right there in our queues, thank you very much. Certainly there's consolation to be had from the coming return of a number of lamented losses (including several by Robert Altman), but it will be tough to say goodbye to the pulpy-but-fun Black Snake Moan (2007), the goofy antics of John Cleese in Clockwise (1986), the corny romance of An Officer and a Gentleman (1982), the shocking irreverence (and sad truths) of Bill Maher's Religulous (2008), and even the well-crafted do-goodism of Kevin Costner's undeniably entertaining Dances with Wolves (1990).

The pain is distributed evenly, at least: if you like classic Hollywood stars, then take a last look at Clara Bow in It (1927), Marilyn Monroe in There's No Business Like Show Business (1954), Shirley MacLaine in Woman Times Seven (1967), and, um, that giant blimp in Black Sunday (1977).

If you're into Pam Grier blaxpoitation flicks, then this month's expirations may especially hurt. Three of her better-known movies are on the chopping block: Coffy (1973), Friday Foster (1975), and Sheba, Baby (1975). Fortunately, she'll still maintain a respectable streaming presence, with her "cage" pictures and a number of more recent actioners and melodramas sticking around, including Quentin Tarantino's latter-day ode to her, Jackie Brown (1997).

So Long, Harold

Harold Ramis (1944-2014)

Too often when a veteran performer or filmmaker dies, they've so outlived their cultural relevance it's only natural to find yourself callously wondering, "Wasn't he dead already?"

Not so with the recent loss of Harold Ramis (and Philip Seymour Hoffman before him). In Ramis' case, even though he hadn't directed a feature film since 2009's underrated Year One, he never seemed irrelevant. Granted, in boxoffice terms he didn't have a commercial hit since 2002's cash-grab Analyze That, but he continued working as a TV director (The Office) and actor through 2009—presumably when his illness began to get the better of him.

But over the decades Ramis had accrued so much good will from both audiences and the movie industry—as not only actor and director, but co-writer of some of the most well-loved comedies of the 1980s and '90s—it was impossible to think of him as anything but a very current, and very alive, contributor to pop culture.

Netflix Instant isn't streaming many of Ramis' films—no Caddyshack, no Stripes, no Groundhog Day or even Analyze This. But the three it does offer are topnotch entertainments, including Ghostbusters (1984), probably the biggest boxoffice hit of his career (as co-writer and actor); one of his least commercially successful but most artistically rewarding films, 2005's bitingly funny The Ice Harvest; and as co-star in the Diane Keaton 1987 romantic comedy, Baby Boom (which admittedly hasn't aged well). These three serve as fitting testimony to Harold Ramis' versatility and his warm, affable presence both behind and in front of the camera. Thanks, Harold, for sharing your humor and talent with all of us.

(A full review of The Ice Harvest can be found here.)

UPDATE: Since the publication of this post, Ghostbusters has expired while Analyze This and Analyze That are now streaming. This may or may not still be the case by the time you read this.

Crash and Burn: DIRTY MARY, CRAZY LARRY

As a follow-up to last week's post, here's one more example of the loose, no-rules cinema that dominated a decade of anti-establishment filmmaking.

The car chase movies of the 1970s were a fabulous form of escape for anyone who grew up watching them at drive-ins or chopped up between commercials on fuzzy black-and-white TV's. Gritty, disposable, outrageous—their fast-forward journeys as existential as they were literal—these future cult flicks reveled in automotive excess and the ingenuity of their clearly insane stunt crews.

The genre came into its own in 1971, its stripped-down, no nonsense sensibility showcased in the classic threesome of Vanishing Point, Two-Lane Blacktop, and Steven Spielberg's Duel (made for American TV but released theatrically everywhere else). Not content to simply feature an epic car chase as centerpiece (à la Bullitt or The French Connection), these movies for the most part were the car chase. And unlike the physics-defying stunts in recent action pics (no matter how fast or furious), the chases and crashes in these films had a visceral buzz often missing from today's computer-generated pileups.

Further refinement—and more elaborate stunts—emerged in 1974, a banner year that featured Spielberg's The Sugarland Express, the ultra low-budget Gone in 60 Seconds, and the gonzo Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry. Most of these flicks sported a nihilistic, authority-flouting temperament as defiant as any racing stripe, none moreso than Dirty/Crazy.

New in February: More '70s Tales (2014)

Some classic 1970s flicks found their way to Netflix Instant this month, partially making up for recent losses in that department. And who better to represent the last golden age of cinema than directors Robert Altman, Hal Ashby, and John Schlesinger; and actors Elliott Gould, Donald Sutherland, Bud Cort, Peter Fonda, and Nick Nolte? But even if that era leaves you cold (and if it does, you may need to check your pulse), you can also now stream Billy Wilder's transcendent Sunset Boulevard (1950) and Bryan Singer's deliciously beguiling The Usual Suspects (1995)—two films worthy of permanent residence in your queue (or as permanent as Netflix allows). [Note: Both have since expired.]

M*A*S*H (1970) - EXPIRED 1/31/15

It seems that each time a Robert Altman film leaves Netflix, another one appears, H.Y.D.R.A.-like, to take its place. In this case one could argue it was a fair swap. Out with Cookie's Fortune, in with M*A*S*H, the director's first big hit? Yes, please—especially if you've never seen this anarchic, groundbreaking comedy that marked the beginning of a long career filled with nearly as many highlights as lowlights—which is saying a lot, considering Altman's numerous duds. (They can't all be winners, right? Just ask Woody Allen, who's having a career resurgence similar to Altman's in the '90s.) Not only did M*A*S*H spark the careers of Altman, Elliott Gould, Donald Sutherland, and Sally Kellerman (among others) while providing the template for one of television's most successful TV shows, it also introduced a new mode of screen comedy (raunchy and adult), a loose, semi-improvisatory acting style, and a level of overlapping dialogue not heard since 1940's His Girl Friday. The advances in sound recording and mixing alone make M*A*S*H noteworthy, but of course that's ignoring the realistically casual performances and still-shocking black humor. Sure, some of the political incorrectness and a seemingly endless football finale may draw frowns, but the film retains a freshness and daring that ensure its place in the pop-culture canon. Not to mention it makes the characters on the ensuing TV series seem practically neutered.

What's on WHAT'S ON NETFLIX NOW?

Given the recent bump in visitors (due to some generous readers on Reddit, Facebook, and Twitter--I thank you all), I thought it would be a good idea to revisit an earlier blog entry so that newcomers have a better idea of what this site is about. Yes, the What's New and What's Expiring lists are always going to be a big draw, especially as word continues to spread. But there's also a distinct point of view to them, and especially to the editorial content. It's never been my goal to cover everything and anything that comes to Netflix. Instead I want to bring a sense of curated content, as informed by decades of watching, studying, and (occasionally) making films. So, you may rightly ask:

"What's Your Angle?"

Or: What Kind of Weird Stuff Will You Be Pushing On Us?

In the course of starting this blog, I may have conveyed the idea that these little writeups are aimed at movie buffs and other heavy-duty Patrons of Cinema. That's not actually the case. At least I hope that's not how this comes across.

Maybe it was misleading to have kicked things off with a classic like His Girl Friday. What I really hope to do here is appeal to not just film geeks but average and casual viewers--those who enjoy above-average entertainment but don't always know how to find it. I'm no film buff myself (honest), but as a sometimes-filmmaker trying to understand the intricacies of his craft, my goal has always been to see as much of the good stuff, and as little of the bad, as possible. That's meant developing plenty of blind spots (which is why I don't consider myself a proper "buff"), but what I do know about I feel pretty secure in sharing.

January Expiration Watch: Déjà Vu All Over Again (2014)

Another month's end, another round of expiring titles, some leaving for the first time, others zipping past on a lazy Susan of cinematic temptation. Here comes Coppola...there goes Coppola...no, wait, he's back, and... Darn, gone again. Is that Buckaroo Banzai appearing on the horizon? By gum, I think it is. Oh, never mind—there he goes, zooming off in that crazy jet car, tossing fellow '80s stalwart Flesh + Blood into the back seat then extending one arm to snag Last Tango in Paris before crashing through a wall into the 8th dimension of streaming limbo. Rutger and Marlon, we hardly knew ye! But you'll be back, right? Pretty please?

Along with Coppola and Last Tango's Bertolucci, the seemingly obligatory monthly loss of movies by big-name directors continues, with a few titles more well-known than others. The most significant would be Robert Zemeckis' equally praised and reviled Forrest Gump (1994), Robert Redford's Ordinary People (1980)—which I'll never forgive for stealing the Best Picture Oscar from Raging Bull—Mira Nair's Monsoon Wedding (2001), and Fred Zinnemann's classic, High Noon (1952), starring Gary Cooper and Grace Kelly. None of these needs me to sell its virtues (or faults) before it's gone on February 1—unlike Robert Altman's Cookie's Fortune (1999), a pleasant, small-town crime comedy that was one of the director's better films during a lull in creative highs between Short Cuts (1993) and Gosford Park (2001). Four generations of actresses—Patricia Neal, Glenn Close, Julianne Moore, and Liv Tyler—are up to shady doings as a family of eccentrics with their reputations at stake when one of them takes her own life.

Shades of Gray: ABDUCTION OF EDEN

I wasn't sure what to expect from Abduction of Eden (called simply Eden in its theatrical run). I knew it received excellent reviews and that it was directed by emerging Seattle filmmaker Megan Griffiths, whose last movie was the micro-budgeted, nicely observed The Off Hours. But the subject matter—true-life* story of Korean-American teen abducted into human trafficking ring—was a tough sell, loaded as it was with predictable melodrama and potential agendas. I knew from reviews that Griffiths was taking a restrained, less exploitative approach, but that also gave me pause: how do you tell a story of forced teenage prostitution without getting a little down and dirty? It's like watching those American actresses (they know who they are) play strippers who don't actually, you know, strip—Hollywood prudishness at its least believable.

Still, despite this and the unfortunate title change, I remained intrigued by the film for the obvious intelligence and vision Griffiths brought to The Off Hours, a small-town slice of life that paved little new territory yet captured its characters and milieu with an admirable confidence and empathy. I was curious to see what the director would do next.

Expiration Watch: THE PUBLIC EYE

I'll go ahead and predict right now that this will be among the least viewed—and least searched for—of my blog posts. But, hey, no one said trumpeting the obscure is about getting attention, right?

One benefit of the high licensing fees Netflix pays to stream popular movies is that a lot of lesser-known (and thus, cheaper) titles are acquired which get to make a case for themselves long after their initial release. These can be anything from last year's Drinking Buddies, a low-gauge indie charmer starring Jake Johnson and Olivia Wilde, to films from 30 or 40 years ago that have somehow faded into obscurity. Case in point: 1972's The Public Eye (released in England as Follow Me!)

Along with being the final movie by British director Carol Reed (The Third Man, Our Man in Havana, Oliver!), The Public Voice was written by playwright Peter Shaffer (future scribe of Equus and Amadeus); stars Mia Farrow—between high-profile roles in Rosemary's Baby (1968) and The Great Gatsby (1974)—and Topol, Oscar-nominated the year before for Fiddler on the Roof; and boasts a score by John Barry, who was already well on his way to legendary composer status by virtue of his James Bond films. In other words, A-level talent across the board.

So, what happened? Why has this amusing, and occasionally trenchant, comedy-drama been almost completely forgotten?

January's Lost & Found (2014)

Following last month's mass movie-title massacre, it would be easy to join the chorus of Netflix naysayers and cancel the streaming service in a noisy, indignant huff (see also: Netflix Huff). But a funny thing happened on January 1: a lot of great new and returning titles appeared, going a long way toward filling the gap left only hours earlier. Sure, it's going to be tough to make up for losing the Charlie Kaufman films or the incomparable Miller's Crossing, but this month's additions arguably go toe to toe with last month's departures.

Classic sci-fi fans may have cried foul at the loss of Robert Wise's The Andromeda Strain, but in its place we got not only the director's even more classic The Day The Earth Stood Still (1951), but the first of the Star Trek films, Star Trek: The Motion Picture (1979). Sure, it's not the franchise's best, but it's far from the worst, and it has the distinction of being much closer in spirit to the exploratory/philosophical nature of the original series than the flat-out action-oriented installments to come. And to those of us who saw this on its first release and thought: "Wow, look how old those guys are!" it's refreshing (and a bit painful) to now think: "Wow, look how young those guys were."

Robert Wise fans (and I know you're out there) may also get some satisfaction from the availability of West Side Story (1961), a multi-Oscar-winning musical about star-crossed lovers from the opposite side of the tracks. This should ease the loss of not only Franco Zefirelli's Romeo and Juliet, but another award-winning epic about equally mismatched lovers, Titanic. Richard Beymer is no Leo, of course, but then Billy Zane's no Rita Moreno, either (thank goodness).

December Expiration Watch: This Time It's Personal (2013)

Where to begin? There are so many good and great movies expiring from Netflix Instant this month, it's the cinematic equivalent of getting hot chunks of coal in your stocking (Merry Christmas to you, too, Netflix). I haven't seen this many notable titles getting the axe since May's so-called Streamageddon. And these are only the titles I can personally vouch for, not ones that are popular but off this blog's radar. So, in light of there being simply too many movies deserving individual attention, I'll simply group them by category and add brief notes as the mood strikes:

Classics

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (1968) - Dick van Dyke and his magic flying car (don't quote me on this, but this title may be getting a reprieve)
In Like Flint (1967) - James Coburn gets in on the James Bond spoof industry in this second of the Flint series
Roman Holiday (1953) - See review
The Odd Couple (1968) - Matthau and Lemmon--the original Oscar and Felix
The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes (1970) - Billy Wilder's flawed, late-career classic--and an early attempt to scrape beneath the surface of the immortal detective
Shane (1953) - Come back, Shane?
A Shot in the Dark (1964) - Peter Sellers and Elke Sommer in one of the earlier, funnier Inspector Clouseau films (before "Pink Panther" was needlessly incorporated into every title)
True Grit (1969) - Kind of creaky (I prefer the remake), but still essential John Wayne
War and Peace (1956) - Audrey Hepburn and Henry Fonda in the classic Tolstoy tale
The Young Girls of Rochefort (1967) - Catherine Deneuve (and her sister) make music with Gene Kelly, in Jacques Demy's spiritual successor to his The Umbrellas of Cherbourg

Spaced Gets the Axe, Dick Spared, Garcia Smolders

Well, it looks like The Dick Van Dyke Show's absence from streaming was only temporary. The series is officially back online. That means if you still haven't managed to check out this always funny and engaging program, you've got another chance to see what made it so special and such an integral part of TV history.

But before you catch up on the shenanigans of Rob and Laura Petrie & Co., take a few hours to check out the equally groundbreaking (if not as universally known) British comedy Spaced, scheduled to expire from Instant at midnight on the 17th (that's one minute past 11:59 P.M. on the 16th, for those who get confused by such things). As I wrote back in April, Spaced is far from your average britcom, and not only helped spawn the current era of post-modern television comedy (think 30 Rock and Arrested Development), it introduced the world to the talents of Simon Pegg, Edgar Wright, and Nick Frost, who went on to make Shaun of the Dead and this year's The World's End (among many others). Less well-known but equally praiseworthy is their partner-in-crime, Jessica Stevenson, who co-wrote and co-starred with Pegg and offers a brand of endearing daffiness all her own. Made up of only 14 episodes spread over two seasons, Spaced is perfect for a binge watch before it takes its leave.

More November Expirations (2013)

It doesn't look like I'll have a chance to write a proper post extolling the virtues of the titles expiring before month's end, but be sure to take a look at the list at the top of the page to see what's on the cutting block. Most notable is The Dick Van Dyke Show, which, despite being over 50 years old and in black-and-white, achieved a humor and freshness that keep it virtually ageless. Creator Carl Reiner made a point of not referencing the era's events or pop culture, and that—along with believable, archetypal characters, solid writing, and funny, grounded performances—make this series as entertaining today as it was in the early 1960s. All five seasons of the show expire at 12:01am on 11/29 [Update: since renewed]. If you're one of the few who have never seen it, and you enjoy traditional sitcoms, you should definitely check out a few episodes before they're gone.

Also of note: two '70s classics—Carrie and Saturday Night Fever—both of which have been mentioned here before and both featuring John Travolta—along with the tense, borderline exploitative Larry Clark thriller, Bully, which is based on a true story and, despite its tossed-off, documentary feel and casual, underage violence and sexuality, sneaks up on you by building some genuine, nail-biting tension by the time it's over.

That's all for now. Other titles worth a look can be found on the Expiring Soon list. Here's wishing you a happy, movie-filled Thanksgiving!

November Comings and Goings (2013)

It's been an interesting month on Netflix Instant, for reasons both good and bad. Among the bad is the usual loss of some very worthy titles on October 31 (see previous post), but unlike in past months, the attrition has continued into mid month. It also seems to be taking an especially high toll on foreign films, a few of which are indisputable classics.

What else would you call 8 1/2, The Bicycle Thief, and The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari? All of these, surprisingly, expired on 11/15 (note: The Bicycle Thief has since returned). Meanwhile, on 11/20 we'll lose a number of former Netflix mainstays, including the intriguing, Memento-like romantic drama, Novo (2002), starring a very easy-on-the-eyes cast headed by Eduardo Noriega and Anna Mouglalis; Russian Dolls (2005), Cedric Klapisch's sequel to his young-bohemians-in-Barcelona ensemble comedy, L'Auberge Espagnole; Jean-Claude Brisseau's controversial, sexually explicit Exterminating Angels (2006); and a personal favorite, Sex Is Comedy.

Sex Is Comedy (2002)

A kind of hothouse, female version of Truffaut's Day for Night, Sex Is Comedy is Catherine Breillat's witty look behind the scenes of a sexually charged coming-of-age film not unlike her own Fat Girl. Getting to the heart of the dynamic between a director (Anne Parrilaud) and her emotionally needy actors, the film displays in hand-wringing detail the games and manipulations that become basic currency in the negotiations surrounding a movie sex scene. The performances are excellent and subtle all around (especially Parrilaud's channeling of Breillat herself), the humor is smart and sly, and the emotional resonance by film's end comes as a welcome surprise. This is one of the few Breillat films that feels less like an exercise or political statement and more an honest-to-goodness movie, with an actual beating heart. Yet it still gets across its message, in some ways making it the lighthearted antithesis of Brisseau's above-mentioned Exterminating Angels, a semi-autobiographical fantasia that follows a similar, more explicit—and potentially more inflammatory—path. Come to think of it, these two films would make an excellent double feature. But be warned: Angels can be pretentious and a bit baffling in that French arthouse way, and the line between sexual exploitation and commenting on said exploitation has never been dicier. Prepare to squirm.

October Expiration Watch (2013)

As with every month, it's time to say goodbye to some exceptional titles that will no longer be streaming on Netflix. This time around, those among the fallen include Wes Anderson, the Coen Brothers, Woody Allen (again), Sam Raimi, a Best Picture winner, a sci-fi sleeper, and two of Francis Ford Coppola's most interesting, least-seen films (along with one of his best). Oh, and Jack Nicholson playing faux Jimi Hendrix in a ponytail.

The Evil Dead (1981)

If this wasn't the first of the "cabin-in-the-woods"-type horror films (it wasn't), then it certainly helped codify the rules for such movies, igniting a mini-franchise for first-time director Sam Raimi, a cult following for star Bruce Campbell, and a subgenre that's been exploited to the point of post-modern excess (see: Joss Whedon's giddily entertaining The Cabin in the Woods). Sure, Raimi's budgets and technique would improve exponentially in the years to come, but there's no mistaking his ghoulish glee at mixing horror, humor and gore with founts of foul, unidentifiable fluids. We'll consider it a sick joke on Netflix's part that this movie expires at midnight on Halloween. Meanwhile, Evil Dead 2 remains available if you're still looking for something gooey and dangerous to lock in your cellar. Trivia note: We all know the heights to which Raimi's career eventually reached (can you say Spider-Man?)—but did you know The Evil Dead's young assistant editor was none other than Joel Coen? Speaking of whom...

September Expiration Watch (2013)

I may not have time for my monthly expiration roundup (it's been a busy month), but I at least wanted to call attention to what's expiring from Netflix Instant in the coming days—a list that includes such significant titles as Robert Altman's Gosford Park, the steamy French classic Betty Blue, Wong Kar-Wai's melancholy In the Mood for Love, and important films by Alfred Hitchcock, Nicholas Roeg, John Sayles, and Peter Weir. Also biting the dust: Warren Beatty, Steve Martin, Jane Fonda, and John Cusack. Check out the updated Expiring Soon list, above, to see what you'll soon be missing.

September 27

Rango (2011) 

September 28

Gosford Park (2001)

September 29

Betty Blue (1986)
The Moon in the Gutter (1983)
Mortal Transfer (2001)

September 30

Barefoot in the Park (1967)
Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid (1982)
Don't Look Now (1973) - Review
Eight Men Out (1988)
Frenzy (1972)
Heaven Can Wait (1978) - Review
Identity (2003)
In the Mood for Love (2001)
Next Stop Wonderland (1998)
The Parallax View (1974) - Review
Saved! (2004)
Witness (1985) - Review

Flashback: SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER

With the arrival of Saturday Night Fever (1977) to Netflix Instant, I thought I'd reach back to an article I wrote a few years ago for Popshifter.com's 1970's-themed issue, "Dancing Ourselves Into the Tomb." It's more of a personal take on the film's soundtrack than an outright movie review, but my thoughts on the film do come across, so consider this a slight change of pace.

Can't Fight the Fever

(Published December 5, 2011, in slightly different form)

When the movie Saturday Night Fever was released in December of 1977, it became a smash critical and popular success that delivered disco to the masses, John Travolta to movie theaters, and a record that became the biggest-selling soundtrack of all time.

But in my household, the film’s influence was exactly...nil. Considering my family’s strict rock & roll diet and my impressionable age, I didn’t have to be told that a movie about disco was cinema non grata. (Say it with me now: “Disco sucks!") But beyond hewing to the party line, as a family we agreed those high-pitched, nasal Bee Gee voices had become annoyingly ubiquitous in the months following the film's release.

The Bee Gees and their chests

And those voices—along with the other Fever songs cramming the airwaves—were everywhere. I don't remember how many times that thumping bass and Gibb-brother whine would suddenly infect the car radio, causing one or the other Woodstock-era parent to reach violently for the tuner with a stream of R-rated invective. I knew the rules: if it had a dance beat, it was shunned—as clear as the laws of physics.

For the next half decade, my views on disco—and by extension, Saturday Night Fever—remained unchanged, even after the country's disco rage had subsided. When the movie showed up on cable in both PG and R-rated versions, I peeked in at a few key scenes to compare the levels of nudity and swearing (the '80s equivalent of watching deleted scenes), but even the charms of Donna Pescow and Karen Lynn Gorney couldn't overcome my lingering aversion to the film as a whole.