Studio 54

In its day Studio 54 epitomized the polymorphous hedonism of the über-chic glamour-obsessed, disco-dancing ‘70s.  Mick and Bianca Jagger, Andy Warhol, Liza Minnelli, Farrah Fawcett Majors and Warren Beatty were just a few of the jet-set who rubbed shoulders (and other body parts) on the dance-floor while gay bus boys and old transvestites shook their booties to the thumping sounds of The Pointer Sisters, Gloria Gaynor and Candi Staton.  

With this in mind it is somewhat disappointing that Matt Tyrnauer’s documentary is such a sober, albeit thoroughgoing, account of the iconic institution's rise and fall. Surely, one would have thought, the audience for this film would be hanging out for lurid tales of drug-fuelled debauchery (the only contemporary celebrity we see in action is a very young and very innocent Michael Jackson), the sort of behaviour more candidly dealt with in Mark Christopher's 2015 dramatization, 54,. Occasionally it goes close with mention of mattresses in the basement, one interviewee who claims to have had “so much sex” there, a carnal free-for-all which necessitated the renovated balcony being lined in rubber to make it easier to hose down. By and large however Studio 54 is a chastened reflection on a decade in which nothing succeeded like excess, a point of view which perhaps reflects our own politically correct, morally self-righteous times.

Making co-owner Ian Schrager the focus of his attention (unfortunately the more voluble Steve Rubell was a casualty of the AIDS epidemic) Tyrnauer gives us a detailed account of the mechanics of Studio 54’s inception, its relatively brief life and its spectacular implosion as The Establishment in the form of the IRS effectively shut it down and sent the two men to jail (a silent partner avoided jail by “co-operating" with the prosecution, as did eventually Rubell and Schrager).

Whilst Schrager is now a highly successful hotelier (and was given a full pardon by the celebrity-loving President Obama in 2017) who, one feels, is understandably determined to keep the past at arm’s length, for the most part he is an informative guide and with the help of a large roster of people involved and a tasty selection of archival material Tyrnauer captures the excitement and wanton abandon of the times.

As social history whether for those recalling their salad days or younger audience wanting to know what all the fuss was about Studio 54 is a commendable effort.  As muck-raking fun, decidedly less so.

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