Saturday Night Fever is not a polite movie. Or a feel-good buffet of sunny escapism. It's a frequently gritty slice-of-life character drama, stocked with complicated characters, illustrating some hard, uncomfortable truths.
These are the sorts of details a lot of screenwriters and producers might instinctively tone down, or omit altogether, on the assumption audiences would find them too far-fetched and 'movie-like', despite the fact they were true.
Just a brief dialogue exchange from one of my favorite films of 1986.
How about a Teachers sequel, set in modern day, exploring the school's corrupt decision 34 years ago to cover up the gym teacher's serial sexual predation?
Imagine a historically-based 1974 Canadian update of 1972’s Chato’s Land, only concerned more with atmosphere than melodrama, minus the gang rape and graphic torture.
It's all meant to be heavy because the story's loaded with unanswered questions and minimal exposition, but this just felt like inept storytelling glammed up with a glossy polish. And a lot of droning, jangly noise.
Through these different revisions, I'd been twisting my imagination into a veritable pretzel in an attempt to rationalize something unequivocally absurd.