Some films are so magnificently wrongheaded that they transcend conventional criticism to become nothing but a pure cinematic experience. Xanadu stands as perhaps the ultimate example – a roller-disco musical fantasy that crashed and burned so spectacularly in 1980 that it literally inspired the creation of the Razzie Awards. Four decades later, this beautiful catastrophe has been elevated to cult classic status, and this stunning 4K presentation proves that sometimes the best way to appreciate art is to stop taking it so seriously.

Robert Greenwald’s (Steal This Movie) direction feels like the work of a man who signed onto a small roller-skating romance and woke up helming a $20 million fever dream…because that’s what happened. The plot – something about Greek muses inspiring mortals to open a nightclub – serves merely as scaffolding for increasingly elaborate musical sequences that seem to exist in their own dimension of logic.

Kira/Terpsichore (Olivia Newton-John, Grease) commits fully to the fantasy, gliding through Los Angeles on roller skates like some disco-era angel. Her performance operates on pure charisma rather than traditional acting craft, but that otherworldly quality perfectly suits a character who literally descends from Mount Olympus on a golden ray of neon light. Newton-John’s musical numbers, particularly the ELO collaborations on the infectious “Magic,” and the anthemic title track “Xanadu” showcase her at peak star power.

The real treasure here is Danny McGuire (Gene Kelly, Singin’ in the Rain) in his final screen role. At 67, the legendary dancer attacks his scenes with undiminished energy, roller-skating through elaborate choreography while maintaining the effortless grace that defined his career. Kelly’s presence transforms potentially embarrassing sequences into genuine magic – when he glides through those juggling extras or tap-dances with Newton-John, we’re witnessing screen history. Sonny Malone (Michael Beck, The Warriors) wisely plays the straight man between these two magnetic performers, though to say he isn’t contributing a lot is to see Beck short as an actor. (Andy Gibb was in the running to play the role and if Olivia had her way, Mel Gibson would have been considered.)

Kenny Ortega‘s choreography deserves recognition for attempting something genuinely unprecedented. The film’s centerpiece sequence, blending 1940s big band with 1980s new wave, shouldn’t work on any conceivable level. Yet Ortega and his team create a visual spectacle that feels both completely insane and oddly moving. The diversity of dancers, the clash of musical styles, the sheer audacity of staging – it’s aspirational filmmaking as a maxed out fever dream, and it’s absolutely mesmerizing.  The literal meshing of set  pieces is one of the practical effects that’s a stunner.

This 4K presentation from Kino Lorber finally gives Xanadu the visual treatment its ambitions deserve. The HDR enhancement makes the film’s neon-soaked aesthetic pop off the screen, while fine detail reveals textures in costumes and sets that previous releases couldn’t capture. The transfer preserves the film’s distinctly ’80s grain structure while delivering remarkable clarity. Those elaborate production numbers, shot with multiple cameras and complex lighting setups, benefit enormously from the increased resolution.

The comprehensive extras package transforms this into a definitive release. Four separate commentary tracks offer wildly different, but always erring on the positive, perspectives on the film’s legacy. Director Greenwald, moderated by filmmaker Douglas Hosdale, provides surprisingly candid reflections on the production’s chaos and his own mixed feelings about the finished product. Film historian Samm Deighan delivers an unabashedly enthusiastic defense of the film, arguing persuasively for its artistic merits and cultural significance. The team of Jennifer Clymer and Nathaniel Thompson strike a balance between appreciation and critical analysis, acknowledging the film’s flaws while celebrating its unique pleasures.

Perhaps most entertaining are film historians David Del Valle and Krystov Charles, whose witty commentary sparkles with insider anecdotes—Del Valle’s recollections of representing many of the film’s dancers adds fascinating behind-the-scenes detail. The 2009 documentary “Going Back to Xanadu” provides essential context for understanding how this project spiraled from modest roller-disco picture to mythic Hollywood disaster.  And the trailer has been remastered in 4K, giving the viewer an idea of why the hype was big on it…because the trailer is edited perfectly.

What makes Xanadu endure isn’t its quality as conventional filmmaking – it’s the sincerity of its absurdity. Everyone involved seems genuinely committed to this ridiculous premise, and that earnestness becomes oddly touching. Newton-John believes she’s a muse; Kelly treats the material with professional respect; even the elaborate fantasy sequences feel heartfelt rather than cynical. In an era of calculated franchise filmmaking, there’s something refreshing about a movie this confidently deranged.

The film’s reputation as a massive flop has been somewhat exaggerated by history. While domestic box office disappointed, the soundtrack became a worldwide phenomenon, and international markets embraced the film’s unabashed romanticism. Xanadu‘s real crime wasn’t being terrible – it was being completely out of step with late ’70s cinema’s cynical mood. Audiences expected another Saturday Night Fever and got something closer to a live-action Disney musical. They even got former Disney animator Don Bluth, called in within weeks of release to animate a full musical sequence.  Bluth paused his planning on The Secret of NIMH to make it and you’ll see how much this sequence influenced his 1994 film Thumbelina.

Viewing Xanadu today reveals it as an accidental time capsule of Los Angeles circa 1980, from Venice Beach’s bohemian culture to the corporate sterility of the record industry. The film’s innocent view of creativity and inspiration feels almost naive by contemporary standards, but that guilelessness becomes part of its charm. This is cinema as pure escapism, unencumbered by irony or self-awareness.

For collectors of cinematic curiosities, this 4K release represents essential viewing. Xanadu may have failed as the mainstream entertainment it was intended to be, but it succeeds magnificently as something far more interesting – a completely unique artifact of Hollywood ambition colliding with cultural zeitgeist. 

You can buy the film directly from KinoLorber here.