Happy John Hurt's Birthday!

I know there are a few other actors who have a birthday today (Linda Blair, Bill Bixby, Balthazar Getty, Olivia D'Abo) but I prefer to single out the one whose name is synonymous with the kind of movies that I look at here.

After all, this is the man who was in Alien, Heaven's Gate, The Elephant Man, Watership Down, Midnight Express, Mel Brooks' History of the World: Part I, The Osterman Weekend, King Ralph, Even Cowgirls Get The Blues, both Hellboys, a couple of Harry Potter movies, V for Vendetta and Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, just to name a few.

To pass by his birthday on a site like this is to thumb one's nose at a whole slew of worthwhile performances and even a few that were so over the top and willfully subversive in the fact that they were so good in the midst of badness. John Hurt's life and talent is one that must be taken into consideration.

Cake must be eaten. Candles must be blown out. Wine must be raised in toast.

And so I do here, the best way I know how - by presenting another worthwhile performance (albeit a NSFW performance) from one of those Alien films. You know the scene. Just click on it.



Happy birthday, John. Here's to another 70+ years of stuff like this.

Dope out.

- TGWD

Looker (1981)

Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce you to the best comedy of 1981.

And no, this one wasn't written by Mel Brooks, it didn't star Jerry Lewis and it had nothing to do with wacky teenage antics or Airplane!-style hijinx.

This movie features Albert Finney, Susan Dey and subliminal advertising. And flashy guns.

Yes. Flashy guns. And I don't mean fancy-looking guns. I mean...guns that flash light at you. And kill.

Anyone who was around in 1981 saw many ads for Looker in theaters and TV, all of which promised this to be an expose' (as it were) of the inside guts of TV advertising and how not only are there covert technological ways in which to bend your mind to buy floor wax, cars and breakfast cereal, but also that actual CGI technology was a lot farther along than what one may have thought.

That wasn't the ONLY drawing card for this'n, though, kids: because Looker was also written and directed by no less a man than Michael Crichton. He of hospital conspiracies (Coma), genetically-created dinosaurs (Jurassic Park) and the ever-thievin' exploits of Sean Connery (The Great Train Robbery).

And now that you're mentally-prepared, allow me to lay this on ya: Plastic surgeon Larry Roberts (Albert Finney) performs a series of minor alterations on a group of models who are seeking perfection within millimeters. The operations are a great success...except for the fact that his patients are suddenly turning up dead. Dr. Roberts becomes suspicious and, with the help of aspiring model Cindy (Susan Dey), does a little investigating of his own. What he uncovers are the mysterious - and perhaps murderous - activities of a high-tech computer company called Digital Matrix and its owner, the sinister and long-toothed Reston (James Coburn).

You wanna know what's happening? Well, I'll spoil it for you only because there can't be a plot to this as much as a series of fun house mirrors. Ready? These models are being scanned into computers by Digital Matrix so that they can be used over and over for any commercials Reston and company want. Why? Well, for one thing, no actor's unions to mess with.

I'd also guess it would be easy for Doc Roberts to notice his dead patients in new ads as much as it would be for you if you caught your long-lost sister or daughter or whatever in brand-new commercials year after year...long after her mangled body was found flung from an apartment balcony.

And on top of everything, there are subliminal flashes being superimposed over the eyes of the ads' models and mascots, making the viewer mutter "I want it" in response to whatever product they happen to be hawking at the time. I guess floor wax needs all the help it can get.

Okay, this is all well and good, but how do these models all keep getting killed with no witnesses or evidence? Simple: this is where the flashy guns mentioned before come in since, when you get flashed by one, you get stunned and blank out so that just about anything can be done to you - yes, even killed. And the one who gets flashed most often by these guns is poor Finney, who gets beaten, punched, thrown through windows and repeatedly thrashed within an inch of his life by the same guy: one who is never named but is credited simply as "Moustache Man" and is played by Tim Rossovich. And if that name is familiar, then you've watched a lot of movies in the late 70s - early 80s. Go look him up; you'll recognize him.

Tim's not the only one you'll recognize, however. Looker offers the attentive viewer an opportunity to play "Hey! It's THAT Guy/Girl!" throughout. In the course of this flick's 90-plus minutes you'll see Leigh-Taylor Young, Dorian Harewood, Terry Kiser (Bernie himself!), Melissa Prophet (Time Walker, Invasion USA), Vanna White (Yes. Vanna. White.), Randi Brooks (the ONLY good thing about Hamburger: The Movie) and your choice of Playboy Playmates.

My friends, the great Albert Finney has been many things - a signing Ebeneezer Scrooge, a tap-dancing Daddy Warbucks, a sleuthing Hercule Poirot - but he is NOT a California plastic surgeon. Finney, try as he might, looks absolutely bored, lost and helpless, standing around and letting the twisted, convoluted plot slap him silly and toss him from pillar to post. I'll also say that this is the most I've seen an actor of Finney's stature get beaten and bloodied without an Oscar in the offing.

You'll remember Susan Dey's salad days in "The Partridge Family" and "LA Law". There were lean years in-between, it seems, and times when a girl would do anything to get a part in a big movie. Even get naked, bless their heart. Which Susan does here, and most appreciatively. I guess it's my inner crush I had on her in her "Partridge" days, but she is very cute herein and, even though she plays the token "girl-that-gets-kidnapped-and-trapped-and-tied-up", she at least shows spunk...among other things.

Coburn was the best at playing sleazy baddies like here, and he does it with the vim and verve of a Bond villain, though what a Bond villain is doing in a movie about brainwashing through TV ads for floor wax is anybody's guess. But then again, Coburn could have been reading from a phone book and I'd listen to him. Or ordering a Schlitz Light. Either/or.

Is the movie any good, though? Looker is so glitzy and full of technical ideas and tricks, models in bikinis or just plain nude, those flashy guns getting flashed at poor dopes that get beaten repeatedly and a finale that involves a rotating stage, CGI actors and James Coburn's teeth that it doesn't help to review it as much as it does to think whether or not you were entertained. Not only by the break-neck pace but the endless, breathless adventure serial mentality of the thing.

I was.

And not one moment of this thing can be taken seriously, either. This is a laugh-fest of the highest order because 1) it takes itself WAY too seriously for a movie about CGI imagery and flashy guns, 2) Albert Finney as a swaggering sex symbol doesn't work, and 3) there is this theme song by Sue Saad called "She's a Looker" that not only has a Top-40 "written-in-10-minutes" feel to it but has an in-name-only quality that makes it feel like an after-thought just so they could have a catchy song on their soundtrack that might get airplay. I don't think it did, but anyway...

OH!

I almost forgot 4) Michael Crichton not only was involved story-wise but also direction-wise. Oh sure: Westworld, Jurassic Park and The Andromeda Strain, but also Sphere, Rising Sun, Jurassic Park: The Lost World and Congo, lest ye forget.

So, Looker may not be good, but it ain't bad, and if the worst you do with a film of Looker's stature and pedigree is laugh uproariously, I would classify that as entertainment.

And when it comes to that, get entertainment any way you can from films with Albert Finney and flashy guns.

The Dope's Top 10 Wanna-Sees - Part 3!

What is the matter with me; can't I see that I don't have the shelf space to support this habit anymore??

I can see fine, thanks, but the fact is that curiosity gets the better of me and, when it comes to movies, if there is an odd duck out there that begs my attention or a long-lost film of my youth that I haven't seen since the "good old days" (see the quotes, there?), then courtesy dictates that I, in fact, ignore what space I do or don't have in order to store such finds and instead go full bore and search as hard as I ever-lovin' can for said movie, find it, possess it, watch it over and over AND OVER again.

(deep breath)

Sorry about the run-on sentence; I was in the middle of making a point.

And now that the point has been made, allow me to give you YET ANOTHER list of films that I, amazingly, do not have yet still want to find, possess, watch.

You know the drill.

----------
And again, the titles in RED LETTERING are ones which I have found and now own after this posting. Just so you know....)
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10. SUPERBEAST (1972, dir. George Schenck)

And no, this has nothing to do with Rob Zombie. This is a Philippines-made mad scientist/horrible creations flick which features bad acting, bad action, bad makeup, and a finale which features a guy in a short-sleeved plaid shirt and a monkey mask swinging his arm half-heartedly in the jungle. It also stars Antoinette Bower from Prom Night and Time Walker, two feature films both on my blog and in my collection. There must be something about her I like, I guess...that or guys in ape masks.











9. BLACKENSTEIN (1973, dir. William A. Levey)

Come on; this is the best of both worlds! This is a Mary Shelley adaptation filtered through the blaxploitation mindset; win-win situation, baby! Besides which, director Levey did so well with this he went on to other triumphs of direction as Wam Bam Thank You Spaceman, The Happy Hooker Goes to Washington, Skatetown USA and Monaco Forever, which was the debut of Jean-Claude Van Damme as "Gay Karate Man". Yes. Not only do I want Blackenstein now, but I think I may have also found four more wants....











8. BUDDY BUDDY (1981, dir. Billy Wilder)

Yeah, that's right. A film by Billy Wilder that not only stars Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau but also presently is NOT on DVD here in the States. It was even written by long-time Wilder collaborator I.A.L. Diamond, who adapted from the original French filmic farce by Francis Veber. And no, you haven't heard of it. I have. It's amazing what you remember seeing ads on TV for in your youth that you swear you'll see someday. This is one of 'em. Still, a Lemmon/Matthau pairing no one's ever heard of? Wow....













7. THE CASTLE OF FU MANCHU (1969, dir. Jesus Franco)

I guess it's one thing thing to want a Christopher Lee film, and another to want a Fu Manchu film. But what turned me to this one is the fact that my first exposure to this was in Episode #323 of my fave rave "Mystery Science Theater 3000", this experiment being the one that almost broke Joel, Crow and Tom Servo's collective wills. This really is a dull, dense, foolish film and makes not the slightest bit of sense, robots riffing on it or no, and the opening segment with the ship footage from A Night to Remember seals the deal. Gotta love something so bad.









6. JAN-GEL, THE BEAST FROM THE EAST (1999, dir. Conrad Brooks)

I've discussed this before, but if Conrad Brooks wrote, directed, produced, starred and probably brewed coffee on-set for a film this bad and this ungainly, then it is something that must be seen by me, DVD case in hand, images flickering on my TV, to believe. Just look at the DVD cover itself: it looks like one of the worst ideas that DC Comics ever had. And this is the only movie that Dale Clukey (the Jan-Gel of the title) has ever appeared in. I think someone needs to track him down just to make him admit he actually took part in this film. I know that Brooks would be all too happy to show HIS OWN involvement...the others, though? They're prolly in hiding.








5. CRIMEWAVE (1985, dir. Sam Raimi)

Yes! THAT Sam Raimi. It was also written by Joel and Ethan Coen! Yes! THAT Joel and Ethan Coen. And it features Paul L. Smith! Yes! THAT Paul L. Smith. As well as Brion James, Louise Lasser and Bruce Campbell! Yes! THOSE people. I've heard so much about the troubled production of this flick, meddling producers sticking their noses in and refusing to allow Campbell to star (shunting him off to bit-player status) and other such cutbacks and such that the very fact that the movie was made at all is a miracle in itself. But I've seen Crimewave and it is STILL a very funny movie, in spite of what producers Cary Glieberman, Edward R. Pressman and Irvin Shapiro did to hinder things. This search is for Sam alone. Okay, and for Joel and Ethan. Okay, alright...and the stars.








4. THE THING WITH TWO HEADS (1972, dir. Lee Frost)

Any movie that stars Ray Milland and Rosey Grier not only sharing the screen but also THE SAME BODY is a win in my book. But at least they were smart enough to play this one as a comedy. After all, the sight of Rosey Grier running down the street with a rubber Ray Milland head wobbling precariously on his shoulder is worth the price of admission. A combination of racial bigotry, blaxploitation violence, monster movie ethics and Rosey Grier punching himself in the face, The Thing with Two Heads may not be art, but it IS something to watch intently. This is a movie that should NEVER be remade - why mess with perfection?










3. MANSTER (1959, dir. George P. Breakston, Kenneth G. Crane)

I don't care what kind of moralizing they were trying to do in a movie where a heel of an American reporter is injected with an experimental serum whilst in Japan that slowly turns him into a two-headed monster (what is it with me and two-headed monsters this time around??), it's just so stupid and so wild that you can't help but be mesmerized by the insanity of it all. And why is this all set in Japan? Guess it made more sense in a foreign country.... And no; I checked on it - just because there are two directors listed, that doesn't mean it was one director with two-heads.










2. PARASITE (1982, dir. Charles Band)

I think we all agree that when a movie is directed by Charles Band and features a starring role for Demi Moore and is a sci-fi allegory with murderous parasites AND is in 3D, it is not a contender for that year's Oscar. Besides which, the acting is better from the rubber-and-goo title creature. Is it any wonder why I would want something like this? I had a chance to get it one time for cheap and let it slip by. Now I can't find it anywhere for cheap. Dang fate, anyway.














1. SO FINE (1981) Andrew Bergman

Before Bergman impressed everyone with his Marlon Brando comedy The Freshman, he made people belly-laugh with this, a story about college professor Ryan O'Neal who inadvertently invents women's jeans with a see-through seat, much to the delight of clothing designer dad Jack Warden and the chagrin of king-sized rival Richard (Eegah) Kiel, whose wife (Mariangela Melato) O'Neal is also seeing. Everything erupts into slap-sticky buffoonery with lots of sexual innuendo and outright sexual elements, culminating in a showdown during an opera. I laughed a lot at this when I was but a teen; I'm sure the good elements carry through, though. Here's hoping....










Oh, and I have a lot more I'm looking for, don't you worry about that. This is a never-ending list, you see, and I've yet to see light at the end of the tunnel.

But for now, I'm still looking.

Dope out.

- TGWD

Lena Horne Dies at 92.

A beautiful woman, a gorgeous voice and a fascinating lady.

It isn't often when you can come across someone who has been in every facet of entertainment - stage, screen, radio, TV - and dominated them all as effortlessly as Lady Lena has; she was even mentioned in Mel Brooks' History of the World: Part 1!

But that voice - that golden, God-given voice... she gave every song she sang her all and made it her own.

And she graced her presence on many many other actors, entertainers and singers such as Diana Ross, Bill Cosby, Johnny Carson, Dean Martin, Flip Wilson, Merv Griffin, Andy Williams, Perry Como, Redd Foxx....

Heck, she even classed up "Sesame Street"!



Rest in peace, Lady Lena - Heaven has one heck of a songbird now.

Dope out.

- TGWD

Mel Brooks FINALLY Gets a Walk of Fame Star!

And it's about time, too.

I mean, come on: this is the man who made farting around the campfire high comedy. He helped create Maxwell Smart and Max Bialystock, made silent movies funny again and put Jews in space.

Mel Brooks is just about the funniest man on the planet and he did it from the ground up, so to speak. He's earned every one of the laughs he got the old fashioned way - he knows what's funny.

The old story from Roger Ebert goes that in Mel's days as a writer on "Your Show of Shows", star Sid Caesar would storm into the writing rooms, pick up a desk, toss it and yell, "FUNNIER!"

It worked.

Twelve movies directed, thirty-five writing credits, thirty-five more acting stints and seventeen productions to his name (including actual serious flicks like 84 Charing Cross Road, Frances and The Elephant Man), Mel has proved that he has what it takes, does what is necessary and knows what it means to entertain.

After all, this is the man who made a Broadway play about Adolf Hitler funny. He knows what he's doing.

So from the MBZ, congrats go out to Mel Brooks. May people walk on you and take pictures of you at their feet for years to come.

Dope out.

- TGWD

At Long Last Love (1975)

All right, kids; it's time to say a fond "hello" to your friend and mine: the OOP movie.

OOP, as any regular reader will tell you, stands for Out Of Print, as in out-of-print movie, which means any film that has yet to have a studio release on VHS or DVD, or sometimes both. And many times, it's for good reason.

You see, there are different determinants for every OOP movie: sometimes it's a matter of securing rights with studios and/or producers, other times an actor or director will be deceased and their estates won't release those particular films, other times still it's simply a matter of the movie being so bad, so embarrassing and so without merit that no one connected with said project ever wants it to see the light of day.

Which brings me to Peter Bogdanovich.

In the early Seventies, Peter was riding a wave of critical and audience acclaim. He started the decade on the success of The Last Picture Show and wrote and/or directed such well-received offerings as Paper Moon and What's Up, Doc?, both of which were beloved by critics, raked in money and earned Bogdanovich a reputation for taking old styles of film-making and turning them into crowd-pleasing money earners that gave their studio (20th Century Fox in this case) reason to believe in their director and his creative genius.

Just like United Artists did with Michael Cimino. remember?

Anyway, Bogdanovich continued to play his "paying-homage-to-classic-Hollywood" card when he directed/wrote and produced what was to be his first (and to date his ONLY) movie musical.

Nothing wrong with that; musicals were nothing unusual at that time. Thing was, movie musicals already had their day around the same time The Sound of Music had its time in the sun - and yes, that was in the mid-to-late Sixties. Since then, such bad examples trying to ride on TSOM's coat tails came about as Finian's Rainbow, Camelot, Star!, Goodbye Mr. Chips, Man of La Mancha, Song of Norway, Mame and Lisztomania.

It's not Bogdnovich's fault that At Long Last Love came out in the middle of this big plop of opportunism; but it didn't help matters that rather than being an exception, this movie was part of the problem.

Before I get into that, though: the movie takes place in the 1930s with millionaire Michael Oliver Pritchard III (Burt Reynolds) meeting and falling in love with singer Kitty O'Kelly (Madeline Kahn). At the same time, stubborn socialite Brooke Carter (Cybill Shepherd) meets Italian gambler Johnny Spanish (Duilio Del Prete) and they also fall in love. Both couples then meet and become fast friends. Eventually, Brooke's sassy maid Elizabeth (Eileen Brennan) falls in love with Michael's valet Rodney James (John Hillerman). After all this is set up, then things take a decidedly soap opera-ish turn as Michael and Brooke fall in love, Kitty and Johnny fall in love, everyone fights, everyone makes up, there is romantic tension all over the place...

And did I mention the Cole Porter songs?

Yes, this story is just a framework on which to hang 16 Cole Porter songs for the four main stars to sing and dance to. You heard me. Singing and dancing. Two things that no one in their right mind would equate with Cybill Shepherd OR Burt Reynolds OR Madeline Kahn OR Duilio Del Prete...

Okay, I had to stop a minute and look this guy up for the benefit of myself and anyone else who would ask, WHO IN THE HELL IS DUILIO DEL PRETE??? Well, aside from being a successful actor in his native Italy, he had parts in two other non-Italian movies besides this one: one was - surprise - Peter Bogdanovich's adaptation of Daisy Miller (starring Cybill Shepherd again) and Joseph Losey's The Assassination of Trotsky. This triptych accounts for Del Prete never stepping foot out of Italy again for the rest of his career. And to his credit, he didn't try singing again either.

Back to At Long Last Love: speaking of the 1930s, Bogdanovich tried something else in this movie that had not been attempted since the days of musical film-making from the 1930s...he filmed all of the singing scenes live. Live, as in recorded without any post-production dubbing or lip-syncing or masking of the fact that not a one of these people have any singing talent whatsoever.

That was only ONE bad idea, though, especially seeing that there are also dancing scenes wherein no choreographer was in evidence. But when you combine the two ideas, you get this:

Cybill gets tangled up in curtains as she sings "I Get a Kick Out of You", Burt stumbles around the edge of a moving limousine while singing "Poor Young Millionaire", Madeline Kahn wiggles around on a stage full of guys in caveman makeup as she sings "Find Me a Primitive Man" and Duilio simply walks around, wrapping his thick Italian accent around songs like "Tomorrow" and "From Alpha To Omega". Then there are more cluttered, clumsy scenes with the stars struggling their way around other Cole Porter classics as "You're the Top", "Well Did Ya Evah?", "Let's Misbehave", "Friendship" and "It's De-Lovely".

You may notice that one of these songs is NOT a Cole Porter song, even though this is supposed to be a Cole Porter-influenced movie. Seems that Bogdanovich, auteur that he was, couldn't resist creating a new song just for the movie itself, with the help of music supervisor for the film Artie Butler. Which one? Oh no; if you're a Cole Porter fan, you already know. I've said too much about the music already....

So this was a bad movie idea. And a bad musical idea. And even worse still that Bogdanovich populated the cast with comic talent and not singing-and-dancing talent. Oh, there are plenty of funny moments in this movie; Bogdanovich was always good at being funny, no question. And there are a lot of small moments throughout this film that are very good as far as laughs go. And Burt and Madeline have proven themselves as past masters at making audiences laugh.

Cybill...well, to tell the truth, she got her start in movies by being the paramour (that's girlfriend, for anyone who's familiar with William F. Buckley-speak) of Bogdanovich, and he at least cast her in some good films...for the most part. Here, she just seems to be distracted and annoyed most of time, like she can't wait to get off-screen.

And did you know she recorded an album full of Cole Porter songs prior to this movie's attack...I mean, release? What; you didn't know she had an album because you didn't know she could sing? Well, she did...though she couldn't...and she can't. In album form OR movie form.

In fact, the best performances belong to Hillerman and Brennan, as the respective personal aides of the piece - they certainly provide the most dependable humor in At Long Last Love and even do moderately well in terms of singing. Their contributions to "Friendship" and "But In The Morning, No" are palpable to their extended talent. Not to mention the fact that the screen brightens immeasurably when they share time together on it.

Oh yeah; Mildred Natwick's in this thing, too. Yeah, Mildred Natwick. Why, you may ask? For all I can gather...she was available.

The look of At Long Last Love is impeccable; and why not - seeing as how the cinematographer was none other than the legendary Laszlo Kovacs, a man who had worked with Bogdanovich in the past and had an enviable career despite having provided a sleek, professional sheen to films like The Last Movie and the Sylvester Stallone ego trip Paradise Alley (another review for another time...).

As far as everything else goes, however.... This film did so badly that it barely earned back less than a third of its $6 million budget, garnered scathing reviews by every living reviewer in 1975 and prompted Bogdanovich to release a nation-wide newspaper apology to reviewers, movie-goers and the world in general. I mean, when Ethel Merman bad-mouths your film, maybe you should have gone back and paid the extra money for real singers.

In the end, almost everybody got out of At Long Last Love alive; Burt had a successful career, Cybill left Bogdanovich and went on to triumphs big and small, Madeline spent most of her career associated with Mel Brooks and fared far better for it, Duilio stayed in Italy and enjoyed a prosperous career, Hillerman and Brennan enjoyed extended careers in small roles in movies and television.... In fact, the only one who really suffered the most for At Long Last Love was Peter Bogdanovich himself.

Never again would he have a financially-successful movie, nor a movie as heavily-promoted as this one - most of his work lately has been regulated to TV movies and an episode of "The Sopranos". Even a sequel to The Last Picture Show (Texasville) came and went with only moderate fanfare and is now largely forgotten, a far cry from his heyday when a Peter Bogdanovich film was a major event in Hollywood.

See what one bad film can do to you?

As far as my opinion on the film; At Long Last Love was cute, the badly-sung songs had a kind of charm like a bunch of rich socialites getting drunk on karaoke night and doing foolish things they won't remember the next morning.

The whole movie ends up like a really expensive goof on Thirties musicals put on by people who THOUGHT they could sing and dance but really can't - a lot like watching the first round of eliminations on "Dancing With The Stars", only the stars didn't have a chance to train first.

That probably wasn't the kind of reaction Bogdanovich and company were looking for but hey, Pete - take what you can get, man.

Cybill sure did.

Harlem Nights (1989)

Eddie Murphy.

Eddie Eddie Eddie Eddie Eddie....

(long, drawn-out sigh)

When he made his national debut on "Saturday Night Live" in 1980, it was to his detriment that it was during one of the most troubled, under-written and talentless seasons ever to be viewed by the network of this long-standing chestnut. In fact he, Tim Kazurinsky, Robin Duke and Joe Piscopo were the only hold-overs when SNL was completely revamped one season later.

Joe who?

That's another rant for another time, but back to Eddie....

A breakthrough talent, Eddie showed comfort and ease with an audience and, darn it, he was funny! It was simplicity itself that he would be the one who made it big in such gargantuan hit movies as 48 HRS, Trading Places, Beverly Hills Cop and the under-valued The Golden Child. Eddie's star burned hot and bright for quite some time, too....

You know who else's star burnt brightly after they broke away from SNL? Chevy Chase's.

Draw from that what you will.

But it was around the time that Best Defense came out in 1984, (which was actually filmed in '82 but then the producers added Eddie footage to it so it would do better, but anyway...) that audiences started to look at Eddie a little differently. Noticing, perhaps for the first time, that maybe Eddie Murphy being Eddie Murphy wasn't enough to guarantee that the movie he was in would be that funny.

I think that Eddie must have realized the same thing, since he pushed himself as hard as he did in playing multiple roles in Coming to America and returned to familiar roles when he featured in Beverly Hills Cop II. And it wasn't like his movies weren't making money. They earned millions, right and left, and he was a top box-office draw for many years.

You know who else was a top box-office draw for many years? Burt Reynolds.

Draw from that what you will.

Unfortunately, a major symptom of being a top box-office draw and breakthrough comic/actor is that your ego becomes something of a cocoon and all those people you surround yourself with begin polishing your self-image to such a high sheen that all you can see is your own awesomeness.

This happened to Eddie. So much so, in fact, that he came up with the same thought that many other unfortunates in his place came up with:

"...you know, I bet I could do this directing thing. You point the camera, tell other people what to do, how hard could it be?"

You know who else thought they could direct? Kevin Costner.

Draw from that what you will.

So Paramount Pictures, never ones to turn down such a request from their top cash cow, agreed to Eddie's demands...I mean Eddie's request...and allowed him free rein to bring his vision to life.

It was the studio's bad luck in thinking that Eddie's creation would be THE BIGGEST AND BEST COMEDY EVER MADE IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD.

What did they get? A '30s gangster drama with a couple of funny scenes.

This, my friends, is the lead-in to one of the biggest disappointments since New Coke.

Harlem Nights was not only directed by Eddie, but also co-written by, executive-produced by and starred him as well. And what parts he couldn't do, he filled with family members, friends and sycophants. This is almost never a good sign.

It was easy to see where Paramount thought they had a hot commodity on their hands, what with the cast that Eddie assembled. For one thing, he would be starring alongside comic legend and longtime friend Richard Pryor, not to mention fellow big-leaguer Redd Foxx. Right there is a lineup that would knock 'em dead at the Apollo. Onscreen, however...?

But before I get ahead of myself, let me explain the plot: speakeasy owner Sugar Ray (Pryor) and his adopted son Quick (Murphy) find themselves at the mercy of ruthless gangster Bugsy Calhoune (Michael Lerner) and his henchman, crooked cop Phil Cantone (Danny Aiello). Together, Ray and Quick devise a scam they hope will save their lives and livelihood....

And no, that doesn't exactly sound like a comedy, does it?

As a matter of fact it doesn't. For some poor movie-goer expecting a laff-fest unparalleled only to experience shoot-outs, blood, Della Reese beaten down with trash cans and shot in the foot, more misogyny than a Sam Peckinpah movie and every four, six, seven and twelve-letter word known to man, I doubt they would be the ones to readily accept this as an Eddie Murphy film - especially since there were few to no laughs to be found.

The look of the film can't be faulted, however. Cinematographer Woody Omens also brought a slick sheen to such big comedies as Mel Brooks' History of the World Part I and Eddie's Coming to America. The '30s are authentically brought to life with an art deco vibrancy. It's all pretty to look at, to be sure, but that's like moving into a house because it has nice shingles.

You can tell right off that this is a vanity project, too, since Eddie forgets to make anything look and be as funny as we know he can. Could you imagine a spoof of the Sting movies with a cast of comic giants such as these? Eddie has a sense of humor and proved that as far back as SNL.

The biggest shock here is NO ONE is very funny in this movie.

Pryor plays his role sympathetically, but without the humor and aplomb he brought to movies like Silver Streak, Bustin' Loose and Stir Crazy.

Foxx shows none of the humor or even the gruff slyness he brought the world in TV's "Sanford and Son".

Not even Eddie has any funny scenes, which is the biggest shock of them all, since this is his film to begin with.

Anyone who only knew Della Reese from TV's "Touched by an Angel" will be shocked into catatonia from the language she uses here as a salty whorehouse madame. Maybe she took the "Angel" role as penance?

And as far as misogyny goes, talented women such as Jasmine Guy, Berlinda Tolbert and Lela Rochon come and go during the course of this film but don't really serve as much more than window dressing that serves no purpose other than that. Even Guy, as a Creole assassin/seductress doesn't get any big scenes. And certainly no funny ones.

What with all the crew they had on this thing, seemingly catering to Eddie's every whim, shouldn't there have been someone on staff to remind him that this was a comedy and should have some actual humor in the proceedings?

Remember when I said there were a couple of funny parts of Harlem Nights? That is only due to two people in this entire cast of dozens. Two.

One of them is Danny Aiello as the crooked cop Cantone. Aiello will always be a great actor in my book and played a broad stereotype of the bad cop with the dumb grin and vicious attitude perfectly. As a villain he is certainly effective, a soft-spoken manner hiding a temper that can flare in a minute. He makes scenes come alive when he's onscreen, which is distressingly too little. It's also depressing that Aiello's character is dispatched with so arbitrarily, locked in an airtight bank safe and told to "take small breaths". It's okay, though, because he's the bad white guy.

The other bright spot is thanks to one of Eddie's friends at the time, Arsenio Hall. Arsenio's character, billed only as "The Crying Man", chases Quick all over Harlem, thinking him responsible for his brother's death. On a constant crying jag throughout, and screaming threats at Quick, Hall is funny in spite of the high annoyance factor of such a character. In fact, during the ensuing shootout between them, a sight gag is executed (so to speak) that is one of the best of its kind I had ever seen in my life and, quite honestly, made me laugh out loud upon seeing its result. It was a good moment, but nothing that preceded or followed matched its energy or level of humor. Too bad.

But not too bad as far as Paramount goes, since Harlem Nights made money just like Eddie's other movies. Fans seemed to like it, but critics throughout the civilized world slammed it with the same two words: "vanity" and "project".

As far as Eddie Murphy goes, the writing was pretty much on the wall. Doomed to go the way of Brad Hall and Gary Kroeger, what with films like Boomerang, Another 48 HRS, Vampire in Brooklyn, Holy Man and Metro, the only thing that saved his career (other than a solid fan base) was his resurrection as a kid's movie star in films like Shrek, Daddy Day Care and Mulan, all of which not only gave him a boost but kept him from fading into obscurity.

Of course, there's also something in the fact that Eddie went from being best known as a fast-talking and funny darling of comedy to...Donkey.

But after proving his self-importance in Harlem Nights, maybe what Eddie Murphy needed was to be equated with an ass.

And by the way; for the curious, the "f" word and its many variations are used 133 times in this film. Since Eddie had a heavy hand in the script, I think we know who to blame for that one.

You know who else liked saying the "f" word a lot? Andrew Dice Clay.

Draw from that what you will.

The Underground Comedy Movie (1999)

Never one to shirk off promises made, I present to you an older review that I once had on the B-Movie Message Board many years ago, and has since been, shall we say...deactivated? It is now updated Dope-style, with extra commentary here and there – but the tone remains the same: seething hatred.

The last thing I ever wanted to see was a movie in which the main purpose (and probably modus operandi) is to offend, disgust, revolt and induce vomiting.

Why, then, was I compelled to see such a travesty as The Underground Comedy Movie? To tell you the truth, I have no idea – even the infomercial for this thing tried to warn me away with scenes so vile and disgusting I was shocked they had the nerve to show the commercial for it at 3 AM.

But let's take a moment before delving into the many reasons I despise this so-called “film” (and there are many) to allow some elaboration time on the following:

What is comedy?

It's an effort to reflect the human experience in humorous terms that we can relate to, or situations that "normal" people are caught in that we could conceivably recognize ourselves in and appreciate as humorous, silly and/or ridiculous. See most any film by Woody Allen or Billy Wilder to understand that aspect.

There's another definition that simply plays with the conventions of movies, expectations we ourselves hold for particular scenes or how we expect the actors to behave in certain situations. The Airplane!, Hot Shots! and Naked Gun movies are prime examples of this. Even some Troma films delve into examples of these on occasion. Those Scary Movie films and their many offshoots (Date Movie, Disaster Movie, Superhero Movie) try to do the same thing but...well, those are other reviews for another time.

Then there are people without an ounce of talent, not one funny idea in their empty head and a fair amount of cash and cameras who are allowed to make a "comedy" film, and instead make a glaring example of stupidity; a slap in the face of true entertainment that drags the hallowed name of COMEDY in the mud, over a field of broken glass and down into an acid bath.

Which brings us to this...this...thing. And a glaring look at the man who created it – and whom I hold fully responsible for the end result.

From what I understand, The Underground Comedy Movie is based on a cable access show ("The Underground Comedy Show"), both helmed by auteur Vince Offer (in his only stint as director, writer and actor). I can only hope his TV show was funnier...and by funnier, I mean less horrific.

What this aspires to be is a monument to bad taste and vapid brainlessness. To paraphrase the great Mel Brooks, it wants to rise BELOW vulgarity. And even though Mel's been in a movie slump lately, this makes Mel's Life Stinks look like The Producers. Hell, TUCM makes the Mel Brooks-produced film Solarbabies look like Citizen Kane.

Here's the low-down (and I mean WAY low-down): The Underground Comedy Movie is a collection of skits (a la Kentucky Fried Movie, but please - the comparison ends right there) that make up for their lack of humor and laughs in what they supply in gross-out, blood and gore. This is without a doubt one of the most mindlessly violent movies that ever masqueraded as a comedy I have seen in my life.

Meaning? If you think it's funny for a Godfather-themed restaurant to serve meat from baby fetuses, a "Batman" superhero (some guy in a baseball uniform beating people with a bat) to knock off a wheelchair-bound woman's head with his bat and watch the same head land in a yard with vicious, hungry dobermans or some chunky Arnold Schwarzenegger lookalike (with a stage name I wouldn't dream of reprinting here) to fornicate with an emaciated old woman's corpse (a cockroach crawls out of her mouth at one point), and watch people get shot, eaten by sharks, get their hands blown off (graphically) by grenades and observe various bodily orifices in action, then you either:

a) have a low opinion of yourself

b) have never seen a comedy before

c) are new to this planet

d) are reading this from your padded cell under heavy sedation

or

e) are Vince Offer.

So what does any of this say about the creator/writer/director/actor of this mess: our above-mentioned ex-Scientologist Vince Offer? You may know him best as the hawker of those Sham-Wow towel things that everyone's seen on TV at least two, three times a day. What kind of a horrible, soul-scarring experience mush he have had in California to lash out at the entertainment industry with such an angry product as this?

And yes, the main current running through this whole enterprise isn't humor – it's anger. Anger against celebrities, anger against the good life, anger against women, anger towards anyone who happens to come across his field of vision. Offer is the equivalent of a pre-teen with Tourette's Syndrome who's been raised by bigoted parents and only has imaginary friends - and a camera. Oh sure, Offer tries to gloss everything over (especially the violence) with the excuse of, “hey relax: it's a comedy! It's supposed to be a joke!” - the only thing is, his frustrations get the better of him and make even the easiest targets (The Godfather, Dirty Harry, Batman, music videos) either over-baked, under-done or untouched.

And there are actual actors involved in this mess! Michael Clarke Duncan - I had extreme respect for him after seeing him in The Green Mile and even appreciated him in The Whole Nine Yards and Armageddon. After his humiliating turn herein as a gay virgin (ha-ha), he'll have to become a born-again Christian, build 180 Habitats for Humanity and save a busload of orphans about to plunge off a bridge by using his teeth to redeem himself.

Karen Black - yes, THAT Karen Black. She's made some bad career moves lately, yes, but still - Easy Rider, Five Easy Pieces, The Day of the Locusts...that's a pretty impressive resume to be led up to this: a mother in a skit where she's pretty much debased to the nth degree. Maybe Karen's got personal issues....

And then there's appearances by Joey Buttafuoco, Gena Lee Nolin and Slash. Not that they necessarily add anything important, but there they are. To their credit, however, Joey Buttafuoco did have a bit part in Sean Connery's Finding Forrester. Gena Lee did look good in a swimsuit on "Baywatch". And Slash...nice hat, Slash. Nice guitar-playing, too.

In the end, after extensive ads late at night on Comedy Central, a whirlwind theatrical showing where it ended up on all of ONE screen (grossing just under $860 on a $170,000 budget!!) and reviews the world over wondering if anyone involved with this project had secure day jobs, TUCM never made anyone forget what comedy used to be like, before grossing out the viewer became more important than being entertaining - or in this case, being funny.

I'm sure you'll be endlessly debating what is and isn't comedy after reading this. By all means do, but NOT after watching The Underground Comedy Movie.

You'll be sorry.

One final note: Offer had the unmitigated gall to sue the Farrelly Brothers for stealing no more than fourteen (!) of his own scatalogical jokes from TUCM for their use in their own classic paean to low humor, There's Something About Mary. Needless to say, it never made it to a courtroom. And he also railed and rallied against the Church of Scientology for allegedly ruining his standing in Hollywood after he left them by making other Scientologists publicly denounce his character.

Vince, you did that your own self the minute filming wrapped on this beauty. And as far as the Farrelly Brothers go, don't even go there.

All I can say for Vince Offer is - I hope he sticks with the Sham-Wows.

Under The Rainbow (1981)

Contrary to what some people may believe, you can NOT go home again.

And nowhere is that more true than in the world of movies.

Take, for example, the mythology behind the classic film The Wizard of Oz. Surely there are those of us who have heard all the stories about a disgruntled munchkin committing suicide while the cameras were rolling in one scene, another story concerning Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon" album synching almost perfectly with the first moments of the film, another about the wild orgies the munchkins had at the hotel they stayed at, Buddy Ebsen's allergy to the Tin Wodsman makeup that forced him out of the role so that....

What's that?

You didn't KNOW about the munchkin orgies? Come on, it's the stuff of legend! Why do you think Judy Garland turned to heavy drugs later in life?

Okay, maybe there isn't a lot of validity to the orgy stories, but someone must have believed in it for that particular urban legend to stick around as long as it has. So much so that it was even the basis of a movie. And not just any movie, but the very movie I'm about to lay into.

Before I do, though, remember what I said about not being able to go home again? Once upon a long time ago (late '82), HBO played the heck out of the movies they got hold of - two, maybe three times a day at the very least, just to wring every entertainment dollar out of their purchase. How else could they get to where they are today - a huge movie channel that shows the same thing two, maybe three times a day?

Which brings us back to Under The Rainbow, one of HBO's acquisitions they played the ever-living bejebus out of in its run on the network. Being a mere sprat of a teenager when it first was out, the ads I saw for it were kind of funny in an immature kind of way and it seemed to play up the kind of nostalgic all-out farce that Steven Spielberg's 1941 aimed so low for. After all, 1981 was the year that celebrated the low-brow. After all, this was also the year that Stripes, Going Ape!, S.O.B. and Zorro The Gay Blade came to be, adding just as much if not more locker room fodder for all the immature adolescents of the land.

But Under The Rainbow was even more than a mere adolescent romp through cliches, stereotypes and offensive jokes; this was a history lesson.

The movie is set in 1938. It is the Depression - a time of famine and financial desolation across the face of America. Still, everyone had big dreams, even a person of diminutive size like Rollo Sweet (Cork Hubbert); he knew there was more to his life than being in the middle of nowhere. And as he was so fond of saying (even though he only says it maybe two times in the whole 90+ minutes of this film), "There's no dream too big, and no dreamer too small". So he determines to go find his fame and fortune in Hollywood, one way or another.

There are other things in his way, however: a Nazi plot to sabotage the homeland defense (formulated by no less than Hitler himself), a ruler of a foreign land marked for assassination by a mad Italian killer and the descent of 150 little people into Hollywood and their subsequent destruction of a single hotel within 24 hours of their arrival. Oh, and I almost forgot to mention that there are not only the deaths of several Japanese businessmen, but also of a handful of dogs - all for the sake of comedy go they.

The last time I saw Under The Rainbow was in 1983 at a friend's house and, sure enough, I was at the right age (TEENage) to find the jokes funny and the people in it as master farceurs. This was, in my estimation, the best movie. Ever.

And now, having watched it again after such a long time, I realize what a stupid young man I was.

Chevy Chase plays a government agent tagged to protect the visiting Austrian dignitary (Joseph Maher - the evil doctor from Charles Bronson's forgettable The Evil that Men Do) and his wife (Eve Arden - yes, Our Miss Brooks) from attack, mainly from a sinister yet bad luck-prone assassin (Robert Donner - remember Exidor from "Mork and Mindy"?). And even though Chevy's film work was heavy and often in the early '80s, it was more often in thin, unfunny drivel like this and Modern Problems, Oh Heavenly Dog!, Deal of the Century and such. He doesn't even do anything typically "Chevy" herein; just kind of acts like a bland straight man. It was just a year before, you may recall, he was in the vastly underrated Neil Simon comedy Seems Like Old Times. Now, THAT was a comedy. In Rainbow, Chevy just kind of stands there, tired and disinterested.

Carrie Fisher co-stars as a Hollywood lower-level type who must wrangle the newly-arrived dwarves and midgets until filming commences. In one of her first few post-Star Wars roles, Carrie is actually sunny and charming in her role. So much so, you almost kind of ignore that fact that she and "romantic interest" Chevy have no chemistry together whatsoever. But no wonder; he doesn't display that much personality here. Back to Carrie: her main contribution to the movie (and anyone of the right age who's seen Rainbow will tell you the same) is that she spends several minutes of screen time in a bra and panties. A prepubescent dream to those of us who missed her gold bikini appearance on "Saturday Night Live" a couple of years prior to this film. And besides her character being otherwise underwritten other than "sprite" or "perky", Carrie didn't have a whole lot to work with, or against, or alongside...you get the idea.

Pity poor Billy Barty, who plays a diminutive Nazi spy out to set the nefarious anti-American plot into motion. Talking like a Katzenjammer kid and overplaying broadly (and entertainingly) like he does, he is still the victim of several "short" jokes (more on that in detail later). This from the man who not only founded The Little People of America Inc. - a foundation for the greater public knowledge and social acceptance of dwarfs - but was also a tireless promoter of a positive image of small people in general: herein fodder for the kind of jokes he was striving to not make acceptable. Under The Rainbow was not the film to help him promote his cause; it was more like an opiate for the masses.

Oh, but short people aren't the only minorities to be given the short shrift. The Japanese stereotypes run almost as rampant, what with a busload of vacationing Japanese men dropped off in the middle of things, taking pictures and replacing their "L"s with "R"s when convenient to the humor necessities of the plot. Even respected Japanese actor Mako, as a Japanese spy, doesn't get to do much more than follow along and be as insulted and insulting as everybody else.

Then there are more than any movie's share of insulting jokes towards women, Italians, black people, tall people, rich people, drunk people and sheep-molesters. The only thing that's been missed is jokes about homosexuals, but they're probably saving that footage for the extras on the never-to-be DVD release.

I mentioned Cork Hubbert earlier - in reality, this is supposed to be his story; the kid from the small town trying to make his way in Hollywood and be the star he knew he could be. And to his credit, Cork really gave it his all and, in the first few minutes, actually did create a character that was more or less believable, sympathetic and respectable. Alas, this is a comedy and certain things must be sacrificed at the Altar of Laffs. And one of them was the hard work that Cork went to to make his character. In the end, he is just another funny little person looking cute and trying to do "big" things like drive a horse carriage, duel Barty in a sword fight and run around. A lot.

Which brings me to the main contribution of ALL the little people in Under The Rainbow. They are basically seen as a mob; they march onto the screen, devatstate, act lewd when called on by the script (which is often), run around wildly then repeat the cycle for the next scene. Only Cork and Barty stand out from the crowd, but only because they had the most face time in what amounts to a miniature cattle call.

Like I said, when I was younger, Under The Rainbow was a very very funny movie. After I discovered "sophistication" and was ushered into the school of "political-correctness", I looked back and re-evaluated much of what I found humorous in my youth. This movie turned out to be a casualty and was then more or less purged from my memory - for the moment.

Now having seen it again, I can honestly say that, memories notwithstanding, there were a few amusing moments here and there that didn't completely insult my sensibilities or make me feel guilty for laughing. Still, the uncomfortable moments are there, both in terms of comedy as well as acting in general. I guess Under The Rainbow isn't out on DVD for a reason.

As impossible as it is to go home again, at least there is consolation in the fact that in watching a movie as irresponsible as this, you'll be enticed to move forward than look back. In anger, in this case.

...or maybe more appropriately in short temper.

Rapid-Fire Reviewing - AGAIN!

Here we go!

2001: A SPACE TRAVESTY - Any spoof with Leslie Nielsen starring in it is good, right? Wrong. Heywood Floyd's last colonoscopy would have been funnier.

AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON - John Landis, David Naughton, Rick Baker and lycanthropes never had it so good.

THE BEYOND - Say what you will about Lucio Fulci, the man could direct giallos, zombies and blood like few could - combining them, even!

CLOVERFIELD - A big-budget clone of THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT? Didn't they already do that with BOOK OF SHADOWS without all the kaiju?

THE DEADLY SPAWN - You wanna see what you can do with a very small budget and lotsa imagination? Rent this.

EARTHQUAKE - A 70's disaster movie without Irwin Allen? Imagine being stuck in a washing machine with George Kennedy...in Sensurround!

FRANKENSTEIN MEETS THE SPACE MONSTER - Cheap cheap cheap cheap - oh, look; a melted android - cheap cheap cheap cheap.

GODZILLA VS. MEGALON - My favorite Godzilla movie of all time. To hell with all of you.

HISTORY OF THE WORLD: PART I - Mel Brooks parodies beat anything by Friedberg & Seltzer to death with a lead pipe and incendiary bombs. Go, Mel!

INVASION OF THE STAR CREATURES - Any outer space scene with sound FX by a vaccuum cleaner is my favorite.

JAWS 3 - As a drama, it's a great comedy.

KOYANNISQATSI - Even if you're sober, this film'll make you feel stoned. In a good way. Really.

THE LEGEND OF THE LONE RANGER - Yes, the Klinton Spilsbury movie. And everything you've heard is true. It stinks.

THE MANITOU - Tony Curtis vs. an Indian medicine man in his wife's neck. Yep.

NUKIE - Imagine E.T. with less charm, no sophistication, no wonder, Glynnis Johns and a talking chimpanzee.

THE ODD COUPLE - Only a curmudgeon could hate Lemmon and Matthau's most famous outing, courtesy of Neil Simon. Catch this one.

PINOCCHIO IN OUTER SPACE - Not a shade on the Disney classic, but it's at least more entertaining than Roberto Benigni's remake - and it has Arnold Stang!

RAT PFINK A BOO BOO - I love this film more than I love my family. Of course my family doesn't have Kogar The Swinging Ape in it, either.

SLAUGHTER HIGH - Really stinks and stupid to boot; not even bad in a good way, either. Poor Simon Scuddamore....

TITANIC: THE ANIMATED MOVIE - So bad and so wrong in so many ways, and I have Unknown Movies to thank! Thaks for steering me onto this'n, gang!

VAN HELSING - Wow. Remember when you went to movies like this and said "Hey, I can see the string"? Well, here you'll be saying, "Hey, I can see the CGI"!

WAR OF THE GARGANTUAS - Russ Tamblyn may be wooden, but the rest of this flick is what lazy Saturday afternoon TV is made of. 40 year-olds, are ya with me?!

XTRO - Gloppy, disgusting and generally confusng in several spots, including the ending. This is why England isn't allowed to watch any more American movies.

ZABRISKIE POINT - Terrible film, but at least it was pretty to look at American commercialism through the eyes of a European.

...There you go; consider yourself well-informed.

Dope out, and until next time, the balcony is closed.

-TGWD

No More Cuteness! (For Now...)

Okay then, to balance out the excess of cuteness that's been saturating the blog lately, how about a little something to offend most everyone?

In other words, something that rises below vulgarity?

From the rightfully classic 1968 Mel Brooks film The Producers, here is "Springtime for Hitler".



How's THAT for being non-cute?


EDIT - And as an added bonus, the same number from the 2005 musical film remake.



There, I think that should be offensive/funny enough for today.

And barring my site being shut down for offensiveness, Dope out.

-TGWD

History of the World: Part I (1981)

Anyone who's seen a Mel Brooks movie knows not to expect normalcy. After all, this is the same Mel Brooks who incorporated Count Basie, Grauman's Chinese Theater and chauffeured limousines into a Western.

Mel has extensive training as a peerless farceur not only from his days as a TV writer (Sid Caesar's "Your Show of Shows" and "Get Smart!") but as writer and director of his own films (Young Frankenstein, High Anxiety, Silent Movie). Brooks is a comic of the borscht belt variety and his pride and joy is doing any and everything for a laugh, no matter how corny.

The funniest thing Brooks has done, however, is take the covnetions of an established genre (cowboy movie, Hitchcock film, silent movie) and set it on its ear. He was good at it, as his track record will attest to. His biggest successes were always considered to be The Producers and Blazing Saddles and even for comedies they had their challenging moments, dealing as they did with embezzlement and Nazis, as well as racist attitudes and bodily functions. Pretty racy stuff for mainstream comedies of the late '60s/early '70s, but they worked.

Then a strange thing happened: after Saddles, Brooks' films seemed to "play it safe". They were still hilarious, mind you, but the jokes were only kind of "mainstream" funny, without touching on any sensitive topics or embracing the taboos of his earlier successes. No one will deny the humor that he imbued in his mid-to-late '70s work but these were still nowhere the level of passing gas around the campfire. He even went so far as to influence other film makers who brought Brooks' irreverent point of view to blackout skit films (The Kentucky Fried Movie, Tunnel Vision) parodies (Airplane!, The Big Bus) and films that poked fun at serious subjects like death (Burt Reynolds' The End), but Brooks' own work was becoming sparse. Was he running out of ideas?

It wasn't until the '80s when, as legend goes, Brooks was being badgered as to what his next big hit movie would be about. Just to keep the rabble quiet, Brooks announced, "The history of the world"; and so History of the World: Part I came to be...and basically, the film is just about that - however, one should not go into a film with this pedigree for a thorough history lesson. It is, instead, a sporadic cover of various developmental periods of Man's evolutionary history.

And again, such topics are approached wearing red, squeaky clown shoes.

Written by, produced by, directed by and starring Brooks himself, History takes the same path as Irwin Allen's The History of Mankind, which started as a somewhat serious look at the same topic but instead served more as a game of "Spot The Star" than the subject at hand. Rest assured, if you enjoy such films, you'll take unadulterated delight in spotting such luminaries as Brooks, Sid Caesar, Dom DeLuise, Madeline Kahn, Shecky Greene, Cloris Leachman, Harvey Korman, Gregory Hines, and British great Spike Milligan. There are also smaller roles filled with comics and comic actors like Ron Carey, Howard Morris, Henny Youngman, Charlie Callas, Pat McCormick, Bea Arthur, Art Metrano, Jack Carter and Jan Murray. There are even some "blink-and-you'll-miss-them" parts for the likes of Paul Mazursky, Hugh Hefner, John Hillerman, John Hurt (as Jesus!) and Brooks regulars Rudy DeLuca, Sandy Helberg and Ronny Graham. Always with an eye for the ladies, he has prominent roles for beautiful (and humorous) newcomers Mary-Margaret Humes and Pamela Stephenson. And yes, that's Orson Welles solemnly narrating as if this were as sequel to History of Mankind.

And nearly every joke, punchline, sight gag, double entendre and non-sequitor told in History will serve as a litmus test of what, indeed, can be made funny. Are there taboos? Is there such a thing as pushing the envelope TOO MUCH? Not according to Brooks, who gleefully assaults the viewer with jokes so corny and funny that he's reused them more than once in his films before and since (there's nothing like recycling).

So, this is a return to the rude side of Mel Brooks, you ask, but is it funny? Let's just say that it depends on your sense of humor and whether you like an occasional dirty joke. There are plenty of attacks on good taste here; even before the title card, there's a masturbation joke. And very soon after, there's jokes about eunuchs, virgins, marijuana and cocaine usage, circumcision, two or three jokes about urination and liberal use of four-letter, six-letter, ten-letter and twelve-letter words. If your ears can take it, they'll be burning by the end.

As far as racism goes, Brooks gives it another try as he did in Saddles, poking fun at every race, creed and color he comes across. There are the expected Jew and Nazi jokes, but also jokes about colored people, white folks, the French, Christians, Romans, homosexuals, the overweight, nymphomaniacs, virgins, pompus authority figures, leaders of society, the elderly, you name it.

Hines takes over the Cleavon Little "token black person" role but adds some softshoe, funny voices, twisted faces and the occasional cry of "the guy was dead when I got there!". If he appears a little weaker compared to Little in Saddles, keep in mind that Saddles had no less than Richard Pryor as a co-writer (Pryor was supposed to play Hines' part here but suffered from his infamous free-basing accident before filming could start). Hines gave it all he had, though, and shines throughout. 1981 seemed to be a good year for him; he also had a featured part in the horror movie Wolfen.

Yes, I found History to be extremely funny; the only complaint I had is that maybe some segments were too short (only ONE part of "The Old Testament" is featured, albeit a good one) and others a tad too long ("The French Revolution" could have been a few minute shorter). That's a mild quibble, though; there are jokes big and small, slapstick scenes galore and even time for a showstopping musical number about "The Inquisition" and its sadistic leader Torquemada ("You can't Torquemada anything!"). And enjoying the laughs that he serves up here doesn't necessarily make you a racist or subversive - certainly the shots Brooks makes here are no more nor less rude than you'd find in your typical Monty Python movie (certainly History would make a great double-bill with Monty Python's The Meaning Of Life).

Brooks certainly did it all here and showed (on a grand scale) that there were still plenty of jokes left in him. Indeed, History made back almost THREE TIMES its $11 million budget , so that should tell you something about how much people were looking forward to Mel Brooks coming back to true form.

In later years, however, his work became less and less and the films he directed ranged from slightly-to-moderately successful (Spaceballs, Robin Hood: Men In Tights, Dracula: Dead And Loving It) to virtually unseen (Life Stinks), which is a shame considering that this was once a man that the world looked to for the belly laughs to end all belly laughs. Since he's returned to his height of hilarity with the Broadway version of his classic The Producers, Brooks may yet have more surprises for us. I hold out endless hope for the man who showed that there is truly humor in every facet of life.

Even in our own History.