54 is a wild fever-dream of a film – a lavish, surreal journey into one of New York City’s most notorious nightclubs that holds the viewer captive and shows us around a deranged disco where nothing quite makes sense, although this doesn’t really matter. Whether or not 54 is a particularly good film isn’t all that important – it is certainly quite divisive, being the fodder of ridicule for those who don’t subscribe to its stranger qualities, while being cherished by certain communities that revere what this film was conveying. As a whole, this is a work that is always going to be controversial, which seems to be precisely why director Mark Christopher was so intent on making it, because beneath the upbeat exterior, this film has an insidious energy that allows us to get a clear glimpse into the nightlife of a city we are all aware of, but perhaps haven’t had the chance to see it presented in such a way. They say New York is “the city that never sleeps” – and Christopher is incredibly intent on proving this to the audience, taking us deep into an unrecognizable world, one where comedy and tragedy intertwine, and everything we know to be true gradually erodes, until all that is left is a raw, unhinged portrayal of youth, identity and sexuality, the likes of which are not always pleasant to behold, but remain worth looking at, even if we’re watching this film – which sometimes comes dangerously close to being a complete disaster – through our fingers. 54 isn’t necessarily a great film, but it does have the quality many mediocre films lack – it is at least interesting, and the director takes several opportunities to introduce us to a vision of the city from his perspective, making for an ambitious example of pushing the boundaries of the form to the point of breaking, but pulling back just before everything else collapses.

Taking stock of both the flaws and merits of 54 is imperative in understanding precisely where it succeeds wonderfully, and fails dismally. It’s not unheard to find yourself right in the middle when it comes to this film, since there are various concepts that are executed well, and others not so much. However, ambivalence isn’t something that really plays a part in the experience of seeing this film, since so much of it straddles the boundaries between logical and unhinged absurdity. Christopher, for better or worse, was making a very distinct kind of film – Studio 54 was a world-renowned nightclub that was known for its exclusivity and, once someone managed to overcome the insurmountable challenge of getting through the doors, they were presented with a world unlike anything ever witnessed before. Obviously, this film focuses on the venue during its heyday, since it is no longer a disco, now functioning as a theatre (which in itself has some poetic irony, since so much of what went on inside it during the 1970s could be considered overly theatrical, with various individuals performing certain identities and becoming entirely different people), which makes it a very different kind of historical drama, where priority is given to the more intangible constructs, such as a particular tone or mood that drives the story along. Christopher seemed to be influenced by a kind of voyeuristic artistry when making 54 – it focuses on placing us in the position of observers, giving us a glimpse into the daily routine of an infamous location known for its lavish debauchery, which the director makes sure to explore through introducing us to a motley crew of characters that work there, showing us the nuts and bolts of what it takes to run a world-famous club. To his credit, Christopher does leave the audience with something unforgettable – not necessarily thought-provoking, but also not without its merits in terms of the genre it was occupying, 54 has a certain charm that comes from its distinct manner of coming together. 

Arguably, when we look beyond the visual splendour and surreal approach to the material, 54 may not be the exact film the nightclub deserved – the story at the core of the film is rather limp, and it fails to make much of an impression, which is unfortunate, considering how much there was to work with in terms of this story. Just a glance at the list of celebrities and public figures that found their way into the club throughout its history will give one clear insights into prestige associated with the venue – so for the film to instead focus mainly on a vapid young bartender (played by Ryan Phillippe, who is very good) and his close-knit circle of fellow employees seemed to be an interesting choice, but one that didn’t quite work out as well as it was intended. Studio 54 was a larger-than-life venue, so it’s strange that it was reduced mainly to the backstage drama that went on, with the actual meat of what makes this such a folkloric location being relegated to the margins, only there to serve as a minor plot device, rather than the thrust of the story, which would’ve made for a far more compelling film on its own terms.  The film is often quite heavyhanded in the exploration of certain concepts, and frequently seems to be struggling to find its voice – you can easily chalk this up to Christopher being a newcomer to the industry, making his feature-length debut here – but it’s more likely that the film was produced as a bundle of ideas that, when put together, were intended to paint a portrait of a distinct time in history, recapturing the spirit of the 1970s. It’s not always successful at doing so, but it does earn some merit in how it actively tries to go beyond strict conventions to present audiences with something thoroughly compelling and often very interesting, even if it doesn’t add up to a massively successful film.

Less of a fully-formed film, and more of a historical document, both of the period it was focused on, and the time in which it was made, 54 is a film of its era. It has a lot to prove, and whether or not it achieved much of it remains to be seen. There are several aspects of the film that deserve praise – the performances given by Ryan Phillippe and Salma Hayek are quite exceptional, despite the fact that neither were given particularly complex characters to play, and rose above the material by virtue of their own willingness to interpret these fictional individuals as if they were as real as any of the real-life figures woven into the film alongside them. Mike Myers is certainly in this film as well, which is perhaps the most positive bit of praise we can give to him – taking a break from his broad comedic work, Myers was making several strange choices in playing Steve Rubell, the co-owner of Studio 54. Like many performances given by Myers throughout his career, it isn’t clear if what he is going in 54 is atrocious or brilliant – he occupies a strange place in this film, being both the warm father-figure to the wayward protagonist, and the despicable villain. To his credit, Myers is making an effort, and all criticisms levelled against his performance have to be directed to the director, who doesn’t quite know what to do with Myers, struggling to find a place for him in a film that should essentially have prioritized him. Instead, he comes across as something of an afterthought, shoehorned into various scenes without much depth – and considering how Myers was perfectly willing to do some strong work, it’s a shame the film didn’t use him well enough. 54 is also fully worth watching for the small role by Ellen Albertini Dow, who is an absolute scene-stealer and manages to add so much fun to a role that is essentially a background character.

The trouble with 54 is that it doesn’t know what it wants to be – it is not quite a biographical film, since nearly every character in it (with the exception of Rubell and the various celebrities who are minor presences) are fictional, so it can’t necessarily be called a work that intends to present audiences with a true story – there have been several works that attempt to convey the sense of a particular era through the lens of fictional characters, so it isn’t a matter of the film not having some precedent to succeed, but rather an inability to realize its own potential. Conversely, it’s not nearly riveting enough to be considered a strong drama on its own, with many moments in the film coming across as hopelessly flawed, either absurdly dramatic or saccharine to the point of utter exhaustion. It’s a bizarre approach to a story that deserved so much more. It’s difficult to criticize a first-time director like Christopher, but the flaws in 54 were far more than just teething problems, but ingrained issues that cause the film – which had all the potential to succeed – to deflate almost entirely. The peculiarities with the filmmaking tend to distract from the strong chance it had of succeeding, and Christopher often misses the mark entirely. Whether it be in the frenetic energy, which was entertaining but needed a more assured hand to keep it under control, or the fact that the characterization in the film is too weak to keep us engaged, there was so much more than could’ve been done with this material. Too often, the director seems to be taking on too much than he could handle, which is often an unfortunate occurrence for novice filmmakers, who tend to be more interested in demonstrating their audacity than showing nuance, creating situations where the audience is assaulted with a dizzying array of images that don’t quite converge into anything particularly meaningful or compelling enough to justify the means. Theoretically, this film did manage to have the right ideas, but where it faltered was almost entirely in its more overwrought execution, which doesn’t do an otherwise promising (if not overly frantic) premise much favour.

Despite many problems, 54 isn’t all bad – and as mentioned previously, there are some aspects of the film that work very well. The performances are a lot stronger than the film allowed – Christopher did manage to extract some decent performances from some of the actors (particularly Phillippe and Hayek, who are clearly the most valuable additions to the film), who did show a youthful charm necessary to keeping the film afloat, preventing it from becoming entirely wasteful of its clear potential. The tone the film sets is also very distinct, with the spirited disregard for authority and willingness to embrace the absurdity underpinning this story making it, at the very least, thoroughly entertaining. The scenes in the club achieve exactly what they set out to – they’re bold, dazzling and unforgettable, brimming with an insatiable energy and forthright ambition that seems to imply the director was more interested in replicating what happened inside the club, as opposed to presenting a particularly strong storyline that got to the core of exploring precisely what it was that gave Studio 54 the reputation it had. I’d be very hesitant to call this film a failure – after all, it did give us some unforgettable images, and was also quite valiant in how it approached subjects of sexuality and personal identity at a time when mainstream filmmaking was still becoming accustomed to exploring these themes. Credit must be given where it’s due, and despite struggling to find a coherent voice, 54 is a fascinating text on its own – it doesn’t negate the well-deserved criticisms, but it does keep us engaged and interested, and somewhere lurking beneath this wide-ranging jumble of ideas was a much better film (even if the Director’s Cut is far superior, precisely since it fleshes out some of the weaker aspects of the original version). As a biographical film of a notorious disco, or as a camp classic, 54 is quite striking in both theory and execution, for better or worse, and depends on how willing someone is to suspend disbelief for a few hours and venture through those mysterious doors into a world of extreme peculiarity, where the music is good, the energy is infectious and everything is allowed.