The Screengrab : mash

Thursday Morning Poll for October 2, 2008

Paul Clark — Thu, 02 Oct 2008 15:30:00 GMT

Last week, Screengrab’s intrepid writing staff unveiled its list of the greatest war movies ever made, and topping our list was Jean Renoir’s Grand Illusion. But when we asked the readers to pick their favorite, they settled upon something a little more American. So cue up the Wagner and break out your surfboard, because according to our readership, the greatest war movie of all is none other than Francis Ford Coppola’s incendiary Apocalypse Now, which outpaced Renoir’s film 33% to 25%. Tying for #3 were Robert Altman’s MASH and Stanley Kubrick’s Paths of Glory with 17% apiece, and bringing up the rear was Casablanca, a fine movie but undoubtedly the least war movie-ish of the bunch.

This week, we remember the late Paul Newman. Earlier today, we ran our picks of Newman’s greatest performances, and now we’ll let you choose your favorites from our top five choices. Which of these films represented Newman’s finest hours?

Favorite Paul Newman performance? | BuzzDash polls

As always, the comments section is open. See you next week!

Yesterday's Hits: It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World (1963, Stanley Kramer)

Paul Clark — Tue, 08 Apr 2008 19:00:00 GMT

There’s an old critical truism that states that comedy isn’t debatable. In other words, funny is funny. However, like any other genre, big-screen comedy has always been subject to popular taste. Silent comedies were (necessarily) full of physical humor and slapstick. In the thirties, screwball comedy added the element of witty dialogue, often delivered in a rapid-fire style. By the time the sixties rolled around, audiences liked their comedies big. And It’s a Mad Mad Mad Mad World was the biggest comedy of all.

What made It’s a Mad Mad Mad Mad World a hit?: Beginning in the 1950s, the movie industry was forced to compete with the immensely popular upstart medium of television. The studios’ most dependable solution was to give moviegoing audiences what they couldn’t get at home. It’s a Mad Mad Mad Mad World had it all- glorious Technicolor! Ultra Panavision! Outrageous gags! And stars? You bet! Sure, you could see Milton Berle, Sid Caesar and Phil Silvers on your television set, but if you wanted to see them all together you had to go to the movies. Add into the mix popular stars like Ethel Merman, Mickey Rooney, and Buddy Hackett, plus a bona fide acting legend in Spencer Tracy, and, to quote another hit of the period, the movie promised “something for everyone- a comedy tonight!” Audiences turned out in droves, making It’s a Mad Mad Mad Mad World the #2 box office hit of 1963, trailing only Cleopatra, proving that a raft full of stars wasn’t enough to torpedo the Taylor/Burton juggernaut.

What happened?: As I wrote above, big-screen comedy has always been susceptible to the whims of the audience. Star-studded comedy spectaculars like It’s a Mad Mad Mad Mad World enjoyed a comfortable run at the box office for years, but by the end of the sixties they’d fallen out of fashion. Part of the problem was the cost of producing these movies- between the stars’ salaries and the price of the effects and stunts, Mad World’s budget was nearly $10 million, an exorbitant cost in 1963 Hollywood. And while Mad World itself was a hit, other movies like it weren’t so lucky.

Another problem was the demise of the Production Code. Once movies could get away with more risqué material, movies like Mad World and its ilk felt quaint and old-fashioned to many moviegoers. In the wake of films like MASH and the work of up-and-comers like Mel Brooks and Woody Allen, Mad World was a relic.

Does It’s a Mad Mad Mad Mad World still work?: Not really. Maybe you had to have grown up when the film’s comic titans were at their respective peaks, but I just didn’t find It’s a Mad Mad Mad Mad World all that funny. I’ve always found that the least entertaining movies tend to be failed comedies, since at least in the case of bad dramas, horror movies, etc., you still have something to laugh at. In Mad World the laughs are as sparse as the jokes are obvious. Consider that the opening scene of the movie finds a dying character literally kicking a bucket, and you’ll see the sort of humor you’re dealing with here. And if you think that’s corny, wait until you check out the final gag.

With few laughs to be had, the film becomes little more than a series of loud, overlong stunts and effects sequences, punctuated by liberal amounts of mugging from the stars. Needless to say, unfunny mugging gets old really quickly. After the first fifteen minutes, all I could think of was, “Jesus, I have to spend almost three hours with these people?” I’m guessing that wasn’t the reaction director Stanley Kramer was going for. All of the characters are given one note to play- Merman is domineering, Silvers is a pathological liar, Rooney and Hackett are bumblers, and so on. The film compounds this issue by sometimes pairing off characters with opposing viewpoints. For example, Berle resents the British, while Terry-Thomas hates Americans. Guess who winds up in a car together? Hilarity somehow fails to ensue.

Still, in a cast this stellar, there are bound to be a few bright spots. Tracy, ever the consummate professional, maintains his dignity primarily by underplaying. Among the comedians, the one who fares best is Dick Shawn as Merman’s mama’s-boy son, though more by virtue of his innate Dick Shawn-ness than with anything he actually does onscreen. But the only performer I felt any real affection for was Jimmy Durante as the ill-fated Smiler, who kicks the bucket (literally, let’s not forget) ten minutes into the movie. Not a good sign.

It’s a Mad Mad Mad Mad World had an extravagant budget, and as publicists are fond of saying, every cent is up there on the screen. But to coin a phrase, money can’t buy funny. Yes, the cast is full of stars, but most of them are wasted in thin roles or trotted out for gratuitous cameos. Why get the Three Stooges when you’re just going to have them stand there? Likewise, the set pieces are big all right, but instead of providing a setup and payoff, they just flail around endlessly. It’s not enough for Jonathan Winters to destroy an entire filling station if there's no comedic logic behind the scene. During the film’s climax, when dozen characters are trapped at the end of a fireman’s ladder, all I could do was to keep asking myself why the scene was supposed to be funny. Which is the last question one should ask when watching a comedy.

Grumbling About Mumbling: Philip Seymour Hoffman and Other Mushmouths

Scott Von Doviak — Thu, 28 Feb 2008 17:00:00 GMT

Ever since Frank Sinatra christened Marlon Brando "Mumbles" on the set of Guys and Dolls, inarticulate and incomprehensible speech has been a mainstay of American cinema, particularly among Method actors. David Jenkins of The Guardian has had enough, and it's Philip Seymour Hoffman who has pushed him to the breaking point.

Jenkins' snippy piece begins: "So there they are, Philip Seymour Hoffman and Albert Finney, emoting like nobody's business after they've buried the woman who was, respectively, their mother and their wife, in Before the Devil Knows You're Dead. There's a silence, and then Hoffman speaks — whereupon Finney slaps him. It's clearly a crucial moment, this explosion of violence, but I've yet to talk to anyone who could hear what Hoffman actually said."

Jenkins goes on to bemoan the mushmouthed stylings of the cast of Charlie Wilson's War (including Hoffman again), Miami Vice (with non-American Colin Farrell cited as a prime offender) and even There Will Be Blood. (He lets the Coens off the hook, noting critic Anne Billson's explanation for the clarity of speech in No Country for Old Men: "The Coen brothers are famously proud of their dialogue, so they make sure you can hear it."

The piece traces screen mumbling back to Brando, of course, but also pins some of the blame on Robert Altman for his trademark overlapping dialogue. It's a little hard to believe that nearly forty years after MASH critics and filmmakers could still be uptight about Altman's brilliant cacophonies, but Sexy Beast producer Hercules Bellville agrees. "I've got no problems with 1940s films; then only Peter Lorre had a strange accent. Now there are all sorts of odd accents and dialects, and the colloquial is often rapid and slurred. But technically, there's no reason for it."

These guys are way too uptight; after all, it's not as if American audiences have never had trouble deciphering British speech, and you don't hear us complaining. To quote Benicio Del Toro in The Usual Suspects, "Gbaughg thfllwoogha schwfjflhaw."