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At an early point in The Last Days of Disco, Charlotte gives some dating advice to her drab friend Alice. She tells her to use the word "sexy" whenever possible in conversation. "Isn't this silverware sexy?" Or "This soda feels really sexy in my throat." Director, writer and producer Whit Stillman has followed that advice and injected sexiness throughout his most romantic film yet. The third and final piece in his night-life trifecta--Metropolitan, Barcelona and now The Last Days--continues his examination of the conflict between group social life and "ferocious pairing off." In an interview at the Red Star Roast House last week, Stillman, 46, said he develops his character-driven stories by becoming fascinated by a time and a place. "Through that mist comes the voices of characters," he says. In this case, that mist, the mise en scene, is sexiness. Alice (Chloë Sevigny) and Charlotte (Kate Beckinsale) are recent Hampshire College graduates struggling to make it in Manhattan in the very early '80s. Though they're not really friends, they share the same menial job in publishing and a narrow railroad apartment with another girl. They've fallen in with a group of slightly older Harvard guys who, among other things, get them into a discotheque they call "the club." Des (Chris Eigeman) has been hired to use his socialite connections to make the club a hit; Jimmy (Mackenzie Astin) struggles in advertising--and with his attraction to Alice; and Josh (Matt Keeslar) devotes himself to his work in the DA's office. Last Days is set in disco's dying nights, so much of the excessive, flamboyant clothing of the '70s has receded into the onslaught of tiny belts, simple hair and plain, A-line skirts. Men are going into straight suits, and though they may not realize it, they've already made the transition from hedonistic pleasure seeking to single-minded money seeking. This film is soundly evocative of its time and place (the soundtrack is exceptionally appropriate), but with a few cosmetic changes the action could take place in another setting--a rave or a wild rhumba party. Like young people of every time, the members of this group trouble themselves with finances, balancing work and play, figuring out what to do with their lives, romance, sexually transmitted diseases (herpes, not AIDS) and getting into the cool spots. The film's opening scene sets the sexy tone with the quick, nervous rush of Alice and Charlotte trying, and succeeding, to get in to the club. From here on the simple plot emerges, but it's always more about the words than the action. Stillman knows that carefully choosing words, and combining them with a turn of the head, a brush of the arm, can be more sexy than a naked woman. The club scenes show a Bacchanal of debauchery, but this a mere backdrop to the repartee at the protagonists' table. These scenes are the film's best. Stillman always uses cinematographer John Thomas, and together they achieve a distinctively clear and crisp image, which sets the characters into a sharp contrast to the kaleidoscope around them. At the Roman-inspired, multi-layered club--filled with decadently dressed (or undressed) clubgoers, swirling lights and colors--the clarity is especially effective, giving an almost dioramic effect. The club is peopled by a mix of square and experimental, straight and gay (look closely and you'll see George Plimpton and Anthony Haden-Guest). Jaid Barrymore (a sex therapist and Drew's mother) puts in quite an appearance as the Tiger Lady. Stillman says his story was originally the reforming of womanizing Des, but it changed into something much less straightforward. Callous Des breaks up with women (including, in a cameo, Jennifer Beals) by telling them he's gay. Charlotte sees right through this ruse, but seems secretly charmed by his trickery. Des, on the other hand, is interested in Alice. Stillman's "plot" hinges on such ambiguousness. Are Des and Charlotte destined for each other? Is he really gay? Later he says "To thine own self be true," but who is his own self? What if his own self really isn't very nice? Stillman effectively captures the embarrassment of youth. Getting into the club is only the first step. Then there's buying a girl a drink, asking someone to dance, deciding who to go home with and what's going to happen next. The characters, especially Alice, use alcohol to lower their inhibitions, but there's none of the drugged-out, sex-crazed Boogie Nights that one might expect from the title. These are not the last days for these upwardly mobile characters. The British Beckinsale is so perfect as bitchy, preppy Charlotte you'd swear she grew up in Darien, Conn. Sevigny actually did grow up in Darien, but her character seems, appropriately, more small-town. Alice can't figure out which guy she likes or why she stays friends with the awful Charlotte. Eigeman, Astin and Keeslar all convey their characters' inner turmoils well. When it becomes clear that the club is being investigated by the district attorney's office, it's still murky exactly who is involved in the sting and to what extent. But none of this plot has the tension of the characters' conversations about things like "Do some guys have a gay mouth?" and "Does Lady and the Tramp reflect what's wrong with women?" During these talks, Stillman's brilliance with language sparkles. You just want to sit back and listen to the characters charm. And what could be sexier than that? |
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