Through these rose colored glasses is this some paradise I see? If history is made at night who will remember come this dawn? In the waning eve of the throbbing disco era our innocents stateside adopt brusque verve in their late night club hopping challenges. Some even come armed with charm. Whit Stillman is still sharp in his use of wit and dialogue for his early 1980’s upwardly mobile Manhattan yuppies whom stumble move than dazzle with awkward anticipation of just what the night beholds.

In his third outing of this certain specific demographics we would recognize these players anywhere. They are not contenders although some might luckily land in lofty places eventually. In this social chess they are all pawns for amusement purposes as comedy rains over any real life decisions or dramatics, most of them subtle in a vein Stillman made his own. This film should appeal more to those who hope intellectuals take a mighty fall. If Metropolitan offers the best sofa serenading in mid-town then Last Days Of Disco has a similar bunch cutting some oriental rug knowing not why they dance, just that they do.