Coke Binges

 

MR. SATURDAY NIGHT (B-minus) - HBO's documentary series brings us this oddly detached look at Robert Stigwood, the Australian/British producer who made the Bee Gees splash big-time in the 1970s disco era. Stigwood himself isn't always the focus of this slapped-together production that spends an inordinate amount of time on the disco phenomenon.

None of the talking heads appear on camera, which probably was a cheap way to observe COVID protocols rather than some sort of editorial decision. Thus, we get a lot of static file photos of the '60s and '70s players, relying on Photoshop animation tricks and lending an air of detachment to the proceedings. There's not much more to the story than Stigwood's abiding faith in the hit-making potential of the Bee Gees around 1975, after a few years in the wilderness for the trio before Stigwood hooked them up with Arif Mardin and jump-started their career. Much of this was covered last year in HBO's much better documentary about the Bee Gees.

One interesting segment examines Stigwood's link to John Travolta, who was seen at the time as a passing TV fad of a teen idol. But Stigwood chose Travolta as the vehicle for "Saturday Night Fever," and was wise enough to sign Travolta to a three-picture deal. ("Grease," another movie/soundtrack megahit, followed.) It was also fascinating to learn that the New York magazine article that the "Saturday Night Fever" screenplay was based on featured fictitious characters. These tidbits are enough to hold your attention for 90 minutes, but this movie certainly doesn't do justice to Stigwood, who ended up incredibly rich and knee-deep in yachts the rest of his life.

BELUSHI (C+) - It's hard to imagine anyone under 50 either caring enough to explore the career of original "Saturday Night" cast member John Belushi and then taking the time to sit for this unenlightening biography. I can save those 50 and over some time too: Belushi was a funny, talented guy with a big drug problem (one that matched his ego and insecurities) who succumbed to a classic '70s OD in the early '80s after failing to put together a decent film career.

For some reason, the collection of "SNL" clips are too chopped up to cohere and give a true sense of why Belushi was such a revered comedian in his day. Even his National Lampoon stint in the early '70s comes off here as little more than frequent weird impressions of R&B singer Joe Cocker. Belushi had a magnetic personality and boundless energy, but this documentary struggles to convey those talents. 

Director R.J. Cutler does do an admirable job of capturing the phenomenon that was the Blues Brothers, acknowledging Belushi's bona fides and reveling in the exciting band of ringers that backed Jake and Elwood Blues. Otherwise, Cutler may just be a victim of the passage of time (nearly four decades) and the limitations of trying to bring a funny but flawed comedian back to life.