'American Swing' review

The mattress room at Plato’s Retreat (Credit: Magnolia)

When it comes to dens of debauchery, few places rival Plato's Retreat, the notorious New York City swingers club that opened in 1977 and delivered an unparalleled orgy of raunch and couples-swapping for almost a decade. At the center of it all was Larry Levenson, the club's Hugh Hefner–esque emperor who publicly promoted Plato's free-sex-for-all ethos but was ultimately undone by jail time, hubris and a society hurtling toward an AIDS epidemic.

The buzz: The film's sensational subject matter practically sells itself, and the filmmakers have amassed a dizzying array of interviews with former members and a slew of high-profile supporters, including Cosmopolitan's Helen Gurley Brown and filmmaker Melvin Van Peebles. Oh, and yes, they've got archival footage. Of people. In the club. Not just talking.

The verdict: "Swing" starts off with visual shockers aplenty, intercutting between earnest interviews about the club's socio-cultural impact and shots of jiggling body parts. It's a conceit that wears thin within 10 minutes, and the film ends up using its salacious footage as a crutch for far too long. But then the movie hits its stride as it delves into darker territory, such as Levenson's fractured relationship with women, the patrons' disquieting notions of sex and monogamy, and the club's eventual slide into a hellhole strewn with prostitutes and S&M. Fascinating stuff—once the filmmakers get there.

Did you know? During its first three years, Plato's Retreat was housed inside the historic Ansonia Building, on Manhattan's Upper West Side. It's the same space that was once home to the infamous gay bathhouse where both Bette Midler and Barry Manilow got their start.

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