Fever is no disco inferno

Stephane Anelli as Tony Manero suffers from charisma deficiency syndrome, his dancing missing a sense of enjoyment

HELP! It is not so much a case of fever on a Saturday night as a slightly raised temperature and a steady pulse.

The stage version of the famous film from the Seventies, when flares, frizzy hair and boogieing were all the rage, is once more revived, though talk of revival gives a misleading impression of dynamism.

Arlene Phillips's production alarmingly tends to wilt and droop as if in need of a vitamin B12 injection .Wild disco energy is what Saturday Night Fever requires, together with some hot singers who play it cool.


Sadly the principal actors perform as if their hearts and other vital organs are not really in it. Their singing voices tend to be drowned by the 10-strong orchestra. Miss Phillips's own choreography is careful and deft rather than joyfully abandoned.

The musical only turns sexy, exciting and dramatically athletic when the wonderful Tom Goodall and Lucy Banfield take the stage in a disco competition for a few precious minutes.

Saturday Night Fever was never known for being high on plot. Indeed when it comes to getting high the drug of choice for the hero Tony Manero, who works in a paint shop by day and dances by night, seems to be narcissism. He keeps an eye on himself in mirrors.

He runs scared of spoiling his unpretty clothes. When in the vicinity of disco girls who go weak at the knees for him he swaggers around as if posing for an invisible camera.Unfortunately Stephane Anelli's charmless Tony suffers from severe charisma deficiency syndrome.

He oozes averageness. It is impossible to gather why other guys should regard him as their pack leader. His chiselled torso and some power-dancing poses are his only substantial assets on active service. He sings Night Fever, Stayin' Alive and How Deep Is Your Love? with mild enthusiasm. His dancing misses a sense of enjoyment. His personality looms smallish.

The scene is Brooklyn and then Manhattan, locations which designer David Shields minimally conjures up with neon signs and the outline of a bridge or two.

In the 2001 Odyssey club where Shaun Williamson's predatory Monty works as disc jockey, Tony turns his attention from his dancing partner, Kym Marsh's vulnerable Annette, to Zoe Ebsworth's dull chocolate-box blonde Stephanie.

Miss Marsh impressively sings If I Can't Have You and To Love Somebody as if she really were stricken by loss of Tony. Williamson, fancifully described in the programme as "possessing a wonderful voice and a natural acting ability" is quoted as saying he cannot wait to return to his "first love", live theatre. Judging by his gross performance I rather doubt if his first love will be looking forward to his comeback with equal enthusiasm.

There is no disguising the fact that the heart of the musical lacks a big thump. The songs by the Bee Gees and the music orchestrated by Nigel Wright sound so much more seductive on film or CD.

What's more, Saturday Night Fever now leaves me deflated. It ends after Tony has casually abandoned Annette for Stephanie and the sub-plot suicide of Alex Jessop's appealing Bobby C. How's that for glum downlift?

Saturday Night Fever

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