"Roller Boogie"...is the sort of movie we should probably burn before it gets into a time capsule and reveals to some future generation the extent to which the 1970's could descend into cultural and artistic barrenness...
Whether or not she was also referencing what may be the quintessential ode to the 1970's, Saturday Night Fever (1977), it was clear that the writer felt the "disco on wheels" craze had gone too far. It was only two years prior that the world was introduced to John Travolta's star making role as king-of-the-dance-floor Tony Manero, quickly pushing the once underground music movement of disco into a pop cultural phenomenon, and later becoming the archetypal snapshot of the seventies. For better or for worse, it seemed like almost everyone was on board, from The Rolling Stones to Dance Fever; disco became so popular that parodies inevitably followed ("Disco Duck", anyone?). Clearly, it was not loved by all. Some of the detractors chalked its music, clothing, and drug use to garish decadence. Still, others were fascinated by the uptown, chic ambience of disco, and its encouragement of self-expression on the dance floor and all-night clubbing seemed irresistible and fun.
After the blockbuster success of Saturday Night Fever, Hollywood put its ear to the street, desperate to find a new movement to spotlight. It would only be a matter of time before producers began to focus their eyes on a variation of the disco dance club: the roller rink. Thus, Roller Boogie was born. Starring the then-troubled teen star Linda Blair, who was looking to exorcise herself from her Exorcist (1973) past, and a host of professional and amateur roller skaters plucked right from the sidewalks of Venice Beach, Roller Boogie was set to become the next Saturday Night Fever.
The film didn't have the same impact of course. Whether it was missing the charisma and star power of John Travolta, or was more simply the limited appeal of roller skating, Roller Boogie was just too flashy and trashy to be taken seriously by critics and the mass movie-going audience. Cult movie fans, however, can spot irony from a million miles away and it was Roller Boogie's all-out absurdity that was cherished by a new audience. Whatever emptiness the film celebrates becomes fascinating to watch and the film is a true one stop shop for anyone harboring a desire to return to the days of gold lame, tight pants, and feathered hair.
The movie begins with real-life championship roller skater (and hair-featherer) Jim Bray assuming the lead role of Bobby James, a street-wise teen on wheels who spends his time renting out quads on the boardwalk and training relentlessly for "the Olympics" (in the category of...skating, as if there were an actual roller skating competition!). After an exciting choreographed beach opening sequence, Bobby James meets Terry (Blair), a rebellious rich girl from Beverly Hills who has recently caught the roller boogie bug. The two go back and forth at first, Terry resisting the advances of the cocksure Bobby James. She eventually asks him to coach her in skating and agrees to pay him for the trouble.
Back at home, the rich life for Terry is not as exhilarating as being lycra-clad and riding the wheels. Terry's uptight, wealthy parents have professionally learned to ignore their daughter whenever she's around. In addition to setting her up with upper crust creep Franklin (Chris Nelson), her mom and dad plan to send to her Julliard to perfect her musical talent as a flutist. Terry, however, would love nothing more than to win the local roller boogie competition that Bobby James is also competing in. Every chance she gets Terry drives out to Jammer's, the roller disco on the "other side of town" where Bobby James and his friends hang out. (The skating/dance/music sequences at Jammer's are among the film's highlights and a true treat to watch.) Terry's rich friend Lana (Kimberly Beck) doesn't like slumming it as much and complains the entire time Terry and Bobby pair up as rink partners. Towards the end of the night Bobby develops "feelings" for Terry and claims he doesn't want her money for the lessons but Terry suggests, "Keep the change, Bobby James!"
Complications ensue, as if the problems with Terry and her parents weren't enough, and the fate of Jammer's becomes an issue as the roller disco owner Jammer (Sean McClory) clashes with members of a local mob, who are looking to buy Jammer out and turn the rink into a shopping mall. They threaten to "burn the place down" if Jammer doesn't sell the building to them. Soon everything is looking bad for the roller skaters...will they save the rink in time? Will Terry's parents force her to attend Julliard? Do Bobby and Terry make it to the Roller Boogie finals and win?
A campy "time-capsule" of retro 70's fashion and lifestyle, Roller Boogie is an entertaining, over-the-top teenage romp that doesn't require deep analysis - check your brains at the door. The soundtrack features some of the best disco tunes of the era (including, appropriately enough, Earth, Wind and Fire's "Boogie Wonderland") and the skating sequences they accompany are mesmerizing. Outrageous outfits abound in this film and Venice Beach never looked so surreal, with skaters covering every square inch at every moment. The love story, including the rich girl-poor boy theme may be predictable, but only adds to the stylized nature of the film. And the amateur acting by essentially everyone else BUT Linda Blair should be a real treat for B-movie movie fans. Jim Bray's one and only film performance is actually charming and Roller Boogie is a blast to watch even if it is culturally or artistically "barren."
Producer: Bruce Cohn Curtis, Joseph Wolf, Irwin Yablans
Director: Mark L. Lester
Screenplay: Barry Schneider, Irwin Yablans
Cinematography: Dean Cundey
Film Editing: Byron Brandt, Edilberto Cruz, Edward Salier
Art Direction: Keith Michl
Music: Craig Safan
Cast: Linda Blair (Theresa Barkley), Jim Bray (Robert James), Beverly Garland (Lillian Barkley), Roger Perry (Roger Barkley), James Van Patten (Hoppy), Kimberly Beck (Lana).
C-103m. Letterboxed.
by Millie De Chirico
