Miramax's 54 is a colossal bad movie kitschy, cornball, and fatally goofy but Christopher's version probably would have been even worse. At least the final cut of 54 is watchably bad. From everything I've read about what Christopher wanted, his 54 would've been joyless and sterna Boogie Nights stripped of its gleeful irony and its heady mix of original, lovable characters.

54 stars Ryan Phillippe as Shane, a Jersey greaser who dreams of the highly publicized Manhattan nightlife. Because he's blond and buff, he catches the eye of Studio 54 proprietor Steve Rubell (Mike Myers), who employs Shane as one of 54's infamous shirtless busboys. Shane quickly makes friends with his coworkers, especially coat-check-girl-cum-disco-queen Anita (Salma Hayek) and her drug-pusher husband Greg (Breckin Meyer). Despite the familial closeness, though, the staffers of 54 are not above stabbing each other in the back if it gives them a chance to get closer to the club's jet-set clientele.

The most interesting part of the Studio 54 story is Steve Rubell, a Brooklyn mug who relishes the power he wields over the glamorous and the wannabes. Mike Myers' performance as Rubell is the only real reason to see 54he's stuporously sincere, and fully in charge of business even when he seems to be completely out of it. Myers is doing a slightly comic shtick here, but he's entertaining where the rest of the film is too restrained, and he's even dramatic when necessary.

Unfortunately, Rubell is only a minor character in this story. Christopher is more interested in the other half of the Studio 54 experience the relationship of the working class and the snooty patrons as mutual voyeurs. The film doesn't explicate this theme through refined characterization, but rather through sweeping voice-over narration. What Christopher (or maybe Miramax) misunderstands is that having a character talk about how the '70s were a time when anybody could be a celebrity doesn't mean that your movie is about that idea. It takes more than blatantly stating the point of a movie to develop said point.

Without a coherent historical perspective, or a "shocking" bisexual love story, what's left in 54 is high camp. Phillippe is an attractive young actor, but he has zero charisma, and his bickering with Meyer over who gets to be head bartender could be two varsity quarterbacks fighting over who gets to escort the prom queen. And the longer 54 goes on, the more ridiculous it becomes; I won't even discuss Disco Dottie, the always good-for-a-laugh octogenarian party animal whose tragic overdose leads to the film's hilariously awful climax.