People and Their Place in Time-The Last Days of Disco

Whit Stillman’s little seen ode to disco (but not really) has an equally minimal interest in plot. Alice Kinnon, played by Chloë Sevigny, leads a group of youngsters finding their way to adulthood in a story more concerned with the people of the story. Sure, club owner Bernie is stowing cash in his basement to avoid paying higher taxes, but it’s drifted over in favor of showing the decisions made by those involved around it, all surprisingly okay with everything that happens.

So what about these stars of the show? They’re worth discussing, their ideas and actions in today’s world and the previous, how people repeat themselves, what they hide and what they present. All of it mishmashed in the changing times of young adulthood. Sure, sometimes they feel like 90’s era folks time-warped back to the early 80’s, but that’s half the point. None of the generations are particularly special, they all disappear and are replaced with a new movement that will suffer the same fate.

Oh, and spoilers, minor ones. This isn’t exactly a movie worth noting spoilers, but I’ll do it anyways because there‘s nothing quite like a first impression.

Alice, the lead is the one who rises from the death of disco, re-adjusting to find herself, rather than a place in her era, resulting ironically in a place in society. In the beginning she hangs on her roommate Charlotte’s every word, plugging Scrooge McDuck as sexy and taking the blame for it by a guy, possibly cheating on his girlfriend whom he is separated from, but also fucking. Her railroad-style apartment, the instability in her life, people coming and going like the times they live in (as her adviser/roommate Charlotte is quick to point out the lack of privacy). She lives life like the book she is trying to push for publication at her company, in hopes of prestige and advancement.

The book, supposedly the account of the Dalai Lama’s brother, is ushered in as she is to the hot NYC club (exclusive to a certain type of people). Accepted as brilliant, the book is approved and sent to the presses. Alice, as well, the jewel of Des, Jimmy, and Josh’s eyes, and a point of jealousy for her completely unselfish (of course!) friend Charlotte. Charlotte, the same one who passed on it earlier, but we’ll come back to that.

Bam. The book’s a fake. The publisher still loves it, it’s just no longer concealed under a false identity. Alice breaks out of her shell, taking on the ‘lunatic’ (per Des) Josh, the one already practicing individualism proudly, addressing the clap maturely, and sitting in the dark alone because she’s resting (that‘s why, Jimmy!). The lady who stays at home and doesn‘t need to roll with the sea of crowds at the disco, the lady of the new era. And she’s awarded with a promotion, the only character employed by the film’s end. Jimmy runs off to Spain, Des retreats with Charlotte to a life of falsehood and big ideas without the means to execute them, and Tom (Alice’s one-night stand) gets to hang onto his gonorrhea and herpes.

Her turning point? Lady and the Tramp. She stands with Josh, for the scottie, the nice guy who doesn’t get what he wants, but doesn’t change. Something better suited will come along. It does for Alice, her last kiss with Des, nothing more than a draining of her transitory personality that was never hers’ to begin with, merely an extension of Charlotte (who of course Des will fall for, post-film). Scottie, also Josh in canine form, the traditional loyalist who stands by his morals, rather than the morals of the time.

Des is his rival and complete opposite, the man who pretends to be gay, so ladies are let down easier when he moves on. The man far too assured of his confidence, stating his surefire reinstatement to the club, after he receives his pink slip, almost immediately (and admittedly he’s right). The man who delves into his past consistently for sympathy. And the man who can’t understand why Josh is also fired at the end (for his decision to give Des a pass on jail time). “Et tu, Brute?”

Not quite. The phrase Jimmy takes as a recognition of loyalty from Caesar (the man who asked for change if change was necessary) to Brutus, a meaning Des (trying to follow Jimmy’s escape at the time, before being pulled back into reality by Josh) can’t seem to wrap his head around, his own attacks cocky, calculated, and sarcastic. He’s like most of the people in the movie, and in life, taking on new ages as if they were their own, changing without any real reason.

Yes, I’m going to wind this back to Alice (Brutus in better hands) and Josh (Anthony, stubborn, as is). Two of the most respectable characters in the film (along with the consistently less ignorant Departmental Dan). Of course, Alice doesn’t resort to violence or any other grave measure to bring upon change. She is similar to Julius’ slayer in her conviction to her ways as a person unfit to live in her time thanks to her accelerated progression. Josh, as Anthony, fits the mold. The man who stands by what he knows, but accepts what he’s given (like ’no’ for example). Note: This is not a recommendation for a sequel of Julius Caesar in which Anthony and Brutus hook-up.

And the crowds swaying between their traditions and their future? You can lump together just about everybody else: Des, Jimmy, Charlotte, Tom, Holly (Charlotte and Alice’s other roommate), and even the slowly Developing Dan. The people seemingly there just to be in the mix, no real purpose as individuals. Unlike Brutus and Anthony, Alice and Josh just go along at the end, realizing the dead end that is trying to sway the sheep. Instead they seek out happiness, which IS contagious (plug for Quiet Chaos), as seen when the people on the train erupt into disco, into themselves. There is hope for originality (some, some)!

It would be unjust to wrap this up without giving Alice’s counterpart Charlotte her due. The bitchy, ignorantly self-aware roommate dangerously accustomed with her public persona, so much so, that it has taken over her private life (remember her admittance earlier that she had no privacy anymore?). She begins on the same level as the still Departmental Dan, but as he comes to accept his mistakes and the fact that he lives outside his justifications (dating Holly for her accepted beauty (fiction), before discovering Alice’s concealed wit (non-fiction)), she follows them stronger than ever. Her reward? Des. Congratulations!


A little selfish, somewhat fleeting, no clear thesis statement.  Pretty sure this qualifies as a blog post.  Sleep well dames and gents.