Tony Manero

It is a very interesting Chilean film; it has a strange plot and the acting is good; it is a very bizarre experience.

Edging to the annual awards season, this year a sure thing is that Chilean director Pablo Larrín will on everybody's radar with his one-two punch NERUDA (Chile's entry for the Best Foreign Language Film) and the formidable JACKIE, a biopic about Jacqueline Kennedy, may win its star Natalie Portman a second Oscar statue as a major player.

So here comes a warm-up to get acquainted with Larrín's previous work, TONY MANERO is his second feature, a sombre take on Chile's darkest time under the Pinochet regime peppered by a less sombre through-line: the 52-year-old protagonist Raúl Peralta's (Castro, Larrín's regular, an Al Pacino doppelgänger both in appearance and affective intensity, also the co-writer of the script) obdurate participation of a TV program "One O'Clock Festival", where a Tony Manero (the lead character in John Badham's Saturday NIGHT FEVER 1977, played by John Travolta) impersonation competition is scheduled in Santiago, 1978.

Examined closely by a hand-held Super 16mm, which intermittently toys with a blurry focus to accentuate the proximity of a sordid milieu, Raúl gives us the first impression of a pallid, taciturn, hangdog loner in the opening scenes where he mistakes the registration date as the actual contest, which will be held one week later. But that facet loses its disguise quickly, when he schematically assaults an old woman who has just been mugged on the street, at her own home, to take away her small boxy color TV set. He is not so much a petty criminal as a ruthless homicide, which ingeniously puts audience at the edge of the seat with a dreadful perturbation whenever he prowls or idles in the dilapidated environs, as violence could be erupted any moment if he sees the opportunity for a monetary gain, whoever the prey is.

Raúl lives with a coterie of amateur dancers in the scruffy house of Wilma (Poblete), where they also occasionally perform to entertain customers. His troupe includes Cony (Noguera), his friend- with-benefit, her adolescent daughter Pauli (Lattus) and Pauli's boyfriend Goyo (Morales). Together they help Raúl to rehearse the John Travola routine, but there is seething tension underneath, Raúl becomes impotent during an overtly explicit rumpy-pumpy, and is mocked by Cony that the only thing can revitalize him is the urge to win the competition, which sours their relationship, Goyo is involved with some surreptitious anti-Pinochet movement, which will put everyone under the interrogation of Pinochet's plainclothes secret police, although Raúl manages to skulk out since it is his big day.

Larrín's tack doesn't shy away from being obstinately provocative, up to an instance of sickeningly scatological malevolence, which seems like an unwarranted feeler to validate its sky's-the-limit artsy taste. But on the other hand, Larrín and his co-writers perspicuously cast a phenomenon of American culture invasion as an escapism for the amoral and the hard-up living under the terror of an autocracy, which indisputably hits the mark of liberating its restrained but astringent political manifesto.

Alfredo Castro is absolutely electrifying to watch from A to Z in the central role, holding Raúl's interior thoughts at bay, but excellently transforms himself onto the screen as a ravishingly volatile monster, with no fear, no conscience, no hold-up can stop his destructive/self-destructive wantonness (as the inauspicious ending dauntingly beckons), who should be answer for this type of societal mutator? The culprit is clear as day in this slam-bang critique of a bygone era weighing heavily on Larrín's fatherland.

For a hit movie, 'Saturday Night Fever' is a surprisingly bleak and serious film; but not quite as dark as 'Tony Manero', a Chilean movie about a criminal whose life dream is to emulate the character played by John Travolta in the earlier film. Both the anti-hero, and the society he lives in (it's the Chile of Augusto Pinochet) are pretty rotten, and the film cuts neither any slack. Indeed, behind the black comedy, this is a portrait of a civilisation on the brink of collapse through a loss of respect for basic human dignity: the fake Manero desperately seeks dignity for himself in his act, but shows no respect for anyone else's. It's compelling, convincing, and yet, as a story, ever so slightly pointless: 'Satruday Night Fever' had its own redemption narrative, and while one can mock this as Hollywood softening, without any such story a film can seem slightly devoid of direction: it's hard to even imagine what a happy ending would have been for 'Tony Manero', so hopeless is the initial premise. It's still a good film; and fundamentally a political one, even though the politics is all implicit.

In the midst of the social context of the Pinochet dictatorship, Raúl Peralta, a man in his 50s, is obsessed with the idea of impersonating Tony Manero, John Travolta's character in the movie "Saturday Night Fever". Raúl leads a small group of dancers, who regularly perform at a bar on the outskirts. Every Saturday night, he unleashes his passion for movie songs by imitating his idol. His dream of being recognized as a successful showbiz star is about to come true when the national TV station announces a Tony Manero impersonator contest. His anxiety to reproduce the idol leads him to commit a series of crimes and thefts.

It is an extremely ambiguous film, at the same time that we feel sorry for the protagonist in the first ten minutes we feel the incredible that pulsates and disgust for its violent and obsessive data, bordering on the sick... A very interesting film with a differentiated approach, obsession for a idol, the dream of pursuing a profession and aggression taking on realistic contours...

TONY MANERO (dir. Pablo Larraín) The film is set in Chile during the fascist reign of Augusto Pinochet, and focuses on a man who is obsessed with John Travolta's discotheque super-star character in Saturday NIGHT FEVER. This might have been played for laughs, but Pablo Larrain's film is an evil fantasy of disco glory that portrays an obsessive and twisted character who is willing to kill to to fulfill his grotesque vision of acclaim. The frenzied violence in this film is so sudden and inexplicable that it literally takes your breath away. The film seems to present a subtle metaphor that compares the highly stylized nature of disco to the uncompromising fascist posturing of totalitarianism. ABSOLUTE MUST SEE