There is no inoculation for Saturday Night Fever. The only thing that can alleviate the burning desire to return to the disco scene of the '70s, or cure those who still get the shakes thinking of the undulating John Travolta is to either rent the movie or go to the Broadway show. Setting the scene for that "Disco Inferno" called "2001" was apparently easy. And, except for the abysmal sound level, hearing those great songs by the Bee Gees -- "Stayin' Alive," "If I Can't Have You," "More Than A Woman," "Disco Duck" and "How Deep is Your Love" -- should make you feel alive and ready to go disco. It's the second option that poses a small problem: no Travolta. James Carpinello, who plays the Travolta role of disco-fevered Tony Manero, is trim, can sing and act okay, and has the cool/hot attitude of a dance-crazed Romeo down pat. No, Carpinello, who scored off-Broadway last season in Stupid Kids, isn't a world-class dancer. That doesn't mean he isn't working his butt off to generate sparks and a personable front. As the ambitious and cocky Brooklyn youth who dreams of making it big in that other borough called Manhattan, Carpinello preens and affects the familiar Travolta attitudes, poses and postures. Except for the protruding head mike (unattractively revealed on all the performers) that makes him, in particular, look like an invading Martian, Carpinello goes through the obligatory Travolta-like motions like a pro. He and co-star Paige Price, who plays Stephanie, the self-educating young woman who has managed to get herself out of Brooklyn, have their work cut out for them keeping us involved in their relationship -- one that follow the same course taken in the film. Unlike the dramatic movie, in which Bee Gees songs served only as a background score and for the dancing, the show has the characters use the familiar songs as narrative drive. It doesn't work.
Considering the apparent success of the much less tolerable Footloose, Saturday Night Fever, is, at least, telling a story that is plausible. In fairness, it is a realistic, if glossy, depiction of a time and a place. Too bad it has also been conceived as a giant budget-be-damned industrial show. Worse yet, the tinny, blaring and unnatural sound of the music from the pit is the pits.
As you might expect, the scenic designs have more dimension than the characters and offer thrills and excitement on their own. The Verrazano Narrows Bridge on a Saturday night, replete with an illusion of vehicular traffic, makes its awesome appearance, and provides a recurring landscape for scaling, dancing and, of course, the tragic death of the pathetic and disconsolate Bobby C, played like a lost soul appropriately by Paul Castree). Another lost loser is Orfeh, the one-name singer who plays Annette, the one-girl groupie with only two thoughts in her head, to dance with Tony and get laid by Tony. Orfeh, a rather good singer, does get her chance to give even the hearing-impaired their money's worth with "If I Can't Have You." Almost more electric than the lighting effects is the eccentric performance of Bryan Batt, who plays the shamelessly sleazy dance promoter. His performance contains the edge of parody that is lurking in the crass commercial heart of Saturday Night Fever.
