Tony Manero

THis film sneaks up on you - there is something unsettling and powerful about it. The lead performance is raw, real and sad. This guy is a low street thief who has a circle of whores and other lowlifes around him. It doesn't matter if you know a bit about the horrible regime of General Pinochet who was in power when the film is set - 1978 but the movie is a metaphor for this brutal dictator's control of the country - insane behavior creating insane results. The lead guy is obsessed with Travolta's film Saturday Night Fever - he watches it in a movie theatre endlessly - memorizing the dialogue and all of Travolta's moves and dance steps. A Chile TV Variety show has celebrity look-a-like contests and he was to enter and win the Tony Manero contest - white suit and all. This movie feels like a documentary - and there are moments of calm followed by shocking displays of violence. I can see that this film might not be for everyone but I found it to be incredibly powerful. I disagree with the summary on this page though that describes the guy as a "serial killer" - he is not a serial killer - he just makes sure to get anyone out the way who stands between him and his obsession.

Ive been meaning to review this film for years as it has stayed with me from when I first sewed it many years ago.

I think this is a terrifying masterpiece, its underrated, under discussed, and shows the true horror of serial killers instead of the glamorous side of in such films such as Silence of the Lambs or the Tv series Mindhunter.

The connection of the Saturday Night Fever character to a serial is sheer perfection, its bizarre yet truly haunting.

This film has lingered in my mind for a very long time.

The lead character is probably one of the scariest and most disturbing I have seen on cinema . He is without any morality and empathy but for some reason you are captivated by him and his life. You want him to succeed at first but as the film progresses you ate repulsed by him but stills obtain a fascination in his life. This is due to the writing and directing.?

The conditions and larger political scope of the film are well thought out, to live in that kind of fascistic government one such as the lead of this film is created and thrives. He is the logical product of that environment.

The scene when he kills the old woman for the TV is so disturbing i still think about it to this day and I saw it about three years ago.

The most haunting aspect for me was when he gets on the bus at the end and watches the winner of the competition and we all know what will happen, what he will do and what is store for his prey. Brilliant ending.

This is brutal, disturbing and amazingly directed.

TONY MANERO (dir. Pablo Larraín) The film is set in Chile during the fascist reign of Augusto Pinochet, and focuses on a man who is obsessed with John Travolta's discotheque super-star character in Saturday NIGHT FEVER. This might have been played for laughs, but Pablo Larrain's film is an evil fantasy of disco glory that portrays an obsessive and twisted character who is willing to kill to to fulfill his grotesque vision of acclaim. The frenzied violence in this film is so sudden and inexplicable that it literally takes your breath away. The film seems to present a subtle metaphor that compares the highly stylized nature of disco to the uncompromising fascist posturing of totalitarianism. ABSOLUTE MUST SEE

Edging to the annual awards season, this year a sure thing is that Chilean director Pablo Larrín will on everybody's radar with his one-two punch NERUDA (Chile's entry for the Best Foreign Language Film) and the formidable JACKIE, a biopic about Jacqueline Kennedy, may win its star Natalie Portman a second Oscar statue as a major player.

So here comes a warm-up to get acquainted with Larrín's previous work, TONY MANERO is his second feature, a sombre take on Chile's darkest time under the Pinochet regime peppered by a less sombre through-line: the 52-year-old protagonist Raúl Peralta's (Castro, Larrín's regular, an Al Pacino doppelgänger both in appearance and affective intensity, also the co-writer of the script) obdurate participation of a TV program "One O'Clock Festival", where a Tony Manero (the lead character in John Badham's Saturday NIGHT FEVER 1977, played by John Travolta) impersonation competition is scheduled in Santiago, 1978.

Examined closely by a hand-held Super 16mm, which intermittently toys with a blurry focus to accentuate the proximity of a sordid milieu, Raúl gives us the first impression of a pallid, taciturn, hangdog loner in the opening scenes where he mistakes the registration date as the actual contest, which will be held one week later. But that facet loses its disguise quickly, when he schematically assaults an old woman who has just been mugged on the street, at her own home, to take away her small boxy color TV set. He is not so much a petty criminal as a ruthless homicide, which ingeniously puts audience at the edge of the seat with a dreadful perturbation whenever he prowls or idles in the dilapidated environs, as violence could be erupted any moment if he sees the opportunity for a monetary gain, whoever the prey is.

Raúl lives with a coterie of amateur dancers in the scruffy house of Wilma (Poblete), where they also occasionally perform to entertain customers. His troupe includes Cony (Noguera), his friend- with-benefit, her adolescent daughter Pauli (Lattus) and Pauli's boyfriend Goyo (Morales). Together they help Raúl to rehearse the John Travola routine, but there is seething tension underneath, Raúl becomes impotent during an overtly explicit rumpy-pumpy, and is mocked by Cony that the only thing can revitalize him is the urge to win the competition, which sours their relationship, Goyo is involved with some surreptitious anti-Pinochet movement, which will put everyone under the interrogation of Pinochet's plainclothes secret police, although Raúl manages to skulk out since it is his big day.

Larrín's tack doesn't shy away from being obstinately provocative, up to an instance of sickeningly scatological malevolence, which seems like an unwarranted feeler to validate its sky's-the-limit artsy taste. But on the other hand, Larrín and his co-writers perspicuously cast a phenomenon of American culture invasion as an escapism for the amoral and the hard-up living under the terror of an autocracy, which indisputably hits the mark of liberating its restrained but astringent political manifesto.

Alfredo Castro is absolutely electrifying to watch from A to Z in the central role, holding Raúl's interior thoughts at bay, but excellently transforms himself onto the screen as a ravishingly volatile monster, with no fear, no conscience, no hold-up can stop his destructive/self-destructive wantonness (as the inauspicious ending dauntingly beckons), who should be answer for this type of societal mutator? The culprit is clear as day in this slam-bang critique of a bygone era weighing heavily on Larrín's fatherland.