IT'S A MAD, MAD WORLD
During the 1960s, Spencer Tracy starred in four films for producer/director
Stanley Kramer. The first two were serious, noble affairs. "Inherit the
Wind" and especially "Judgment at Nuremberg" were heavy dramas,
Tracy's final film, "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner", was technically a
comedy, but also relentlessly socially conscious.
"It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World", then, was a major departure for
both Tracy and Kramer. It was a slapstick comedy of spectacular proportions,
seemingly employing every stuntman and middle-aged comic in Hollywood. While
Charlie Chaplin, Bob Hope and the Marx Brothers don't appear, the cast is
otherwise loaded. The legendary (and some not so legendary) comedians include
Milton Berle, Sid Caesar, Buddy Hackett, Mickey Rooney, Phil Silvers,
Terry-Thomas, Jonathan Winters, Dick Shawn, Eddie 'Rochester' Anderson, Peter
Falk, Jim Backus, William Demarest, Buster Keaton, Don Knotts, Carl Reiner, The
Three Stooges, Andy Devine, Sterling Holloway, Arnold Stang, Stan Freberg,
Norman Fell, Jimmy Durante, Jack Benny, and Jerry Lewis. Many of these comic
actors only have one cameo scene.
Stanley Kramer wanted to make 'the comedy to end all comedies'. The seven
million dollar budget went far in 1963, and the first cut of the film was over
five hours in length. A team of editors pared it to under three hours, although
some scenes have since been restored. As if the massive ensemble cast wasn't
enough, there are also countless spectacular stunts. Everything was overdone:
the cast, the acting, the stunts, the gags, the cinematography. "It's a
Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World" may be entertaining, but its true mission is to
be impressive.
The story begins with a reckless car chase. Bankrobber 'Smiler' Grogan (Durante)
is trying to flee the police, but instead has a horrific car accident.
Bystanders rush to his side. Just before Grogan literally 'kicks the bucket', he
tells the onlookers an incredible tale. He has buried $350,000 under a 'big W'
in a park, several hours drive away. The witnesses argue angrily about how to
divide the potential windfall among themselves. Unable to come to an agreement,
it's every man for himself, and the race is on. The police, headed by Captain
Culpepper (Spencer Tracy), quickly learn of the treasure hunt, and plan to
confiscate the stolen loot once found.
Behind all the outrageous slapstick that follows is a constant theme. The
average guy would do anything to get his hands on a fortune. Greed provides the
motive for numerous assaults, thefts, and vandalisms. No risk is too desperate,
no action is too humiliating. But men aren't the only fools here. While Edie
Adams and Dorothy Provine mostly serve as pretty window dressing, Ethel Merman
plays a bombastic nag, even more obnoxious than duplicious Otto Meyer (Phil
Silvers).
Actually, "It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World" holds up fairly well. It's
much better than some other big budget 'road' comedies, such as the
"Cannonball Run" Burt Reynolds movies. Despite the film's length,
there's hardly a dull moment. Sometimes the arguments become shrill, and the
characters become too exaggerated (especially Dick Shawn's mother-obsessed
wastrel). But there are many entertaining scenes as well, such as Jonathan
Winters thrashing a gas station, and Buddy Hackett trying to land a plane.
(60/100)
THE PINK PANTHER
"The Pink Panther" is a light comedy with strong romantic, fashion,
and slapstick elements. While some scenes are funny, as a whole the film doesn't
quite come off. There are problems with casting, characters, dialogue, and
overall shallowness.
David Niven stars as a man leading a double life. He's suave playboy Sir
Charles, and a jewel thief known as 'The Phantom'. His conquests include two
women half his age, Simone (Capucine) and Princess Dala (Claudia Cardinale).
Both these beautiful women have apparently been cast for their whispering
accents. Simone is also the wife of police detective Inspector Clouseau (Peter
Sellers) a bumbling fool who is on the trail of The Phantom.
Much of the film takes place in a hotel bedroom. Sellers is trying to seduce his
wife, who must gently parry his unwanted advances while keeping him in the dark
about Niven's double identity. To make her job even more difficult, Robert
Wagner shows up as Niven's nephew. He has his uncle's personality traits of
smugness, seduction and thievery. Capucine must tease and mislead him as well,
but as Wagner is more sharp than Sellers, matters begin to unravel.
Sellers, of course, plays Inspector Clouseau well. But not all of his gags are
funny, such as when he burns his hand.
"The Pink Panther" is notable for introducing the Clouseau character,
which Sellers played in numerous sequels until his untimely death. The later
films are centered around Clouseau, and not the criminals that he is ineptly
chasing. The first sequel, "A Shot in the Dark" (1964), is a
considerable improvement over the original.
The film was nominated for one Academy Award, for Henry Mancini's inspired jazz
score. While the title refers to a 'priceless' jewel, it has become associated
with the score and the cartoon panther character. The cartoon version of the
panther shows up in the opening and closing credits.
The Pink Panther would later became the star of a Saturday morning cartoon show,
and for a while even had his own breakfast cereal. It was really gross; it made
the milk turn pink. Sadly, the Pink Panther has since been relegated to
commercials for Owens Fiberglass. (55/100)
A SHOT IN THE DARK
A highly amusing farce, A Shot in the Dark sees Inspector Clouseau apply his unique talents to a puzzling murder enquiry. In the chateau of respected millionaire Benjamin Ballon (George Sanders), the body of his Spanish chauffeur Miguel has been discovered in Maria Gambrelli's (Elke Sommer) room. Since she was found with the smoking gun clutched in her hand, with the door locked from the inside, the conclusion is inescapable. However, when Inspector Jacques Clouseau (Peter Sellers) is assigned to the case, by mistake, the situation hardly seems so clear-cut. To Clouseau's eyes, it's hardly possible that anyone as beautiful and charming as Maria could be a murderer.
Instead, to the despair of his long-suffering superior Chief Inspector Dreyfus (Herbert Lom), he formulates a case that features Maria shielding her lover. Even his young assistant Hercule Lajoy (Graham Stark) is convinced by the weight of evidence, but Clouseau is determined to follow his instincts. By getting close to Maria (a not unpleasant experience) he hopes to flush the jealous killer out into the open. However, when Clouseau himself finds Maria standing over the corpse of the gardener, with the bloody shears in her hand, it appears that he's backed the wrong horse.
Such prosaic logic proves unpersuasive for Clouseau though, thus he orders her release from prison yet again. Unfortunately his choice of disguise is as flawed as his handling of the facts (a balloon seller outside a jail!), causing the arrest of Clouseau before he can follow Maria to her presumed lover. Interestingly, at about the same time, it is revealed that Ballon was seen climbing down from Maria's window on the night of the shooting. Not that this would influence Clouseau, since he suspects everyone and no-one. Anyway, his hands are full with Kato (Burt Kwouk), his martial-artist servant.
Building upon the characters established in the first Pink Panther movie, A Shot in the Dark whips them up to even greater heights of comic absurdity. Clouseau blunders about, blissfully unaware of the ensuing chaos, naive and innocent in a peculiar way. The majority of the laughs stem from this clumsy, bumbling fool, a role that Sellers handles to perfection. His exceptional timing and physical acuity imbues Clouseau with a special aura, a feeling that somehow everything will turn out alright despite the errors made along the way. It's this ability that so infuriates Dreyfus, driven to distraction by this thorn in his side yet unable to rid himself of Clouseau because he might just be right.
A Shot in the Dark is awash with moments of outstanding comedy, covering slapstick, verbal, visual, physical humour and much more. The script is dripping with wonderful lines, made perfect by their dead-pan delivery, while some of the scenes leading up to this dialogue are simply hilarious. Sellers might be the star of the show but the cast arrayed around him all perform excellently, filling their respective roles with appropriate reactions and comments. Combined with a fine score, the result is a film which utilises several forms of comedy brilliantly, and it's almost all due to Seller's talent. Who else could make the simplest action seem fraught with difficulty?
The Graduate
Directed by Mike Nichols. Written by Calder Willingham and Buck Henry.
Based on the novel by Charles Webb. Running time: 105 minutes. Rated PG.
By Roger Ebert
Well, here *is* to you, Mrs. Robinson: You've survived your defeat at the hands of
that insufferable creep, Benjamin, and emerged as the most sympathetic and
intelligent character in ``The Graduate.'' How could I ever have thought otherwise?
What murky generational politics were distorting my view the first time I saw this
film? Watching the 30th anniversary revival of ``The Graduate'' is like looking at
photos of yourself at an old fraternity dance. You're gawky and your hair is plastered
down with Brylcreem, and your date looks as if you found her behind the counter at
the Dairy Queen. But--who's the babe in the corner? The great-looking brunette
with the wide-set eyes and the full lips and the knockout figure? Hey, it's the
chaperone!
Great movies remain themselves over the generations; they retain a serene sense of
their own identity. Lesser movies are captives of their time. They get dated and lose
their original focus and power. ``The Graduate'' (I can see clearly now) is a lesser
movie. It comes out of a specific time in the late 1960s when parents stood for
stodgy middle-class values, and ``the kids'' were joyous rebels at the cutting edge of
the sexual and political revolutions. Benjamin Braddock (Dustin Hoffman), the
clueless hero of ``The Graduate,'' was swept in on that wave of feeling, even though
it is clear today that he was utterly unaware of his generation and existed outside time
and space (he seems most at home at the bottom of a swimming pool).
``The Graduate,'' released in 1967, contains no flower children, no hippies, no dope,
no rock music, no political manifestos and no danger. It is a movie about a tiresome
bore and his well-meaning parents. The only character in the movie who is
alive--who can see through situations, understand motives, and dare to seek her own
happiness--is Mrs. Robinson (Anne Bancroft). Seen today, ``The Graduate'' is a
movie about a young man of limited interest, who gets a chance to sleep with the
ranking babe in his neighborhood, and throws it away in order to marry her dorky
daughter.
Consider, for a moment, the character of Elaine (Katharine Ross), Mrs. Robinson's
daughter. She has no dialogue of any depth. She has an alarming fetish for false
eyelashes. She agrees to marry a tall, blond jock (Brian Avery) mostly because her
parents will be furious with her if she doesn't. She is so witless that she
misunderstands everything Benjamin says to her. When she discovers Benjamin has
slept with her mother, she is horrified, but before they have ever had a substantial
conversation about the subject, she has forgiven him--apparently because Mrs.
Robinson is so hateful that it couldn't have been Benjamin's fault. She then escapes
from the altar at her own wedding to flee with Benjamin on a bus, where they look at
each other nervously, perhaps because they are still to have a meaningful
conversation.
As Benjamin and Elaine escaped in that bus at the end of ``The Graduate,'' I
cheered, the first time I saw the movie. What was I thinking of? What did the scene
celebrate? ``Doing your own thing,'' I suppose.
Occasionally I will meet an almost-adult son of friends, and notice that he behaves
like a mute savage in company, responding to conversation with grunts and
inarticulate syllables. This behavior is usually accompanied by uncoordinated lurches,
as if he is behind the wheel of a body too big for him to drive. A few years pass, and
this creature regains the use of his brain and speech, and I see that he was passing
through a phase. Does he look back on his earlier years in embarrassment?
Today, looking at ``The Graduate,'' I see Benjamin not as an admirable rebel, but as
a self-centered creep whose put-downs of adults are tiresome. (Anyone with
average intelligence should have known, in 1967, that the word ``plastics'' contained
valuable advice--especially valuable for Benjamin, who lacks creative instincts and is
destined to become a corporate drudge.)
Mrs. Robinson is the only person in the movie who is not playing old tapes. She is
bored by a drone of a husband, she drinks too much, she seduces Benjamin not out
of lust but out of kindness or desperation. Makeup and lighting are used to make
Anne Bancroft look older (she was 36 when the movie was made, and Hoffman was
30). But there is a scene where she is drenched in a rainstorm; we can see her face
clearly and without artifice, and she is a great beauty. She is also sardonic, satirical
and articulate--the only person in the movie you would want to have a conversation
with.
When the movie was first released, I wrote of the ``instantly forgettable'' songs by
Simon and Garfunkel. History has proven me wrong. They are not forgettable. But
what are they telling us? The liberating power of rock and roll is shut out of the
soundtrack (``The Sound of Music'' plays on Muzak at one crucial point). The S&G
songs are melodic, sophisticated, safe. They even accommodate the action, halting
their lyrics and providing guitar chords to underline key moments. This is Benjamin's
music; Mrs. Robinson, alone with her vodka, would twist the radio dial looking for
the Beatles or Chuck Berry.
Is ``The Graduate'' a bad movie? Not at all. It is a good topical movie whose time
has passed, leaving it stranded in an earlier age. I give it three stars out of delight for
the material it contains; to watch it today is like opening a time capsule. To know that
the movie once spoke strongly to a generation is to understand how deep the
generation gap ran during that extraordinary time in the late 1960s. There were true
rebels in movies of the period (see ``Easy Rider''), but Benjamin Braddock was not
one of them. I wonder how long it took him to get into plastics.