L.A. Reverberated

The man looks like Jon Lovitz in an argyle sweater vest. He wears glasses and loafers, and he sweats. But he is undeterred. He quivers on the lip of the stage in the main room of the Century Club, smack in the center, solitary among the writhing bodies, his mild-mannered, paunchy appearance belied by his seductive, fly-boy attitude. The strobe light flickers. His motto tonight could be this: I am Travolta. This is his night, and he dances, dances, a go-go to the left, a go-go to the right, pony, pony, voooogue, baby. Yeah, baby.

You tell him later you enjoyed his superego-less display and, surprised to have been spoken to, he answers boozy, close to your ear, “Thank you very much. But I am not so happy as I seem. It is all a cover for a great loneliness inside.”

All around, the others dance, in pairs, alone, hypnotized by the $50,000 sound system vibrating their innermost organs with each crushing boom of the bass. It’s a Saturday night, and DJ Omar is spinning electronica, trance, jungle, the whole shebang.

The night before, a local salsa band was here, as generally happens on Fridays. The next night it will be “African American Night,” whatever that means in a nation that outlawed segregation.

And this night, a Saturday, the whole world is here, speaking Spanish, ebonics, Farsi, Korean; and everyone’s joyously singing along with Cher. Designer pants and tube tops are smashed together in a sort of clothed orgy, because the club’s 1,000 capacity has been reached.

You escape for air to the Century Club’s outdoor patio, where a Gypsy Kings remix has caused dozens of otherwise normal people to spontaneously sprout imaginary castanets in their raised hands. A man leans out of a conga line to shout “Ole!” toward a palm tree, and you realize you must be in Southern California. Beyond the dance floor, a gang of smokers hunches near the wall, thrilled to be both at a club and lighting up, because smoking is allowed here, outdoors only. Back inside, you head to the small jungle room, where a snake of people has bunched up in a nasty version of a conga line to grind the night away to a reggae remix of a Mase rap song. You are almost pulled in, but slip away.

Meanwhile, in the balcony overlooking the main room, a large party sits down to a pasta dinner. The food is cooked by chef Cesar Dominguez, who sticks to the basics, like steak and salad and seafood, but does them really well. Friday through Sunday, you can get dinner at the club from the time it opens at 8 p.m., until 11.

This mixture of loud dance music, understated decor and good, solid food has made this club a popular spot for corporate parties and functions, as well as one of the city’s liveliest pickup joints.

Among more noteworthy events held here in recent history: Dustin Hoffman’s daughter’s bat mitzvah. Cuban bands have played here. Grooms have their bachelor parties here. Coming up Saturday: the coronation of the Miss L.A. Street Race Model Spokesperson. The winner is chosen based on her performance in the bikini contest.

To call the Century Club diverse would be accurate. To say it represents quite fairly the Greater Los Angeles megalopolis would be even more accurate.

Manager Curtis Johnson describes the club as “high tempo, yet elegant, you know, upscale dress. We get all breeds of clientele.”

Johnson also describes the sound system with pride, and says he’s thankful the club is downtown Century City, directly across from the twin towers, in a business district. If it were in a residential neighborhood, or anywhere near one, Johnson is sure they’d get calls. It’s a good sound system.

It’s easy to spend a night floating from one room to the next, upstairs, downstairs, and the variety of music and atmosphere makes it feel more like club-hopping than staying put. So easy, in fact, that once the lights come up at 2 a.m., everyone seems surprised. It couldn’t possibly be that late, could it?

It is particularly entertaining to stand among the hundreds waiting for their cars while the poor valet guys literally run until breathless, because there is bound to be some poor dude begging a chick in a red dress to let him drive her home.

And in the relatively bright light of the parking lot, it becomes even more clear that this is a true Los Angeles club, appealing to many types of people, all of whom appear to have at least one thing in common: They love to dance.

BE THERE

The Century Club, 10131 Constellation Blvd., Century City, (310) 553-6000. Fridays: “Salsa Night,” featuring live bands, house, rock en espanol, hip-hop and R & B; cover $10 before 10, and $15 after. Saturdays: DJ three rooms, variety of dance music, cover $15 before 10 p.m.; $20 after. Sundays: “African American Night” $20 all night. Kitchen open until 11, entrees $12-$30.