Two Must-Sees at the Met

Posted in AMERICANA, CRITICISM/ REVIEWS, EXHIBITIONS & LECTURES, Melodrama and Master Thespians, VISUAL ART on August 28, 2015 by travsd

“Jolly Flatboatmen in Port”, George Caleb Bingham, 1857

A quick shout-out for two exhibitions I caught over the weekend at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, both seemingly calculated to appeal to this correspondent.

Having just finished reading Mark Twain’s Life on the Mississippi, I was particularly primed to appreciate Navigating the West: George Caleb Bingham and the River (up through September 20). The image above may be Bingham’s best known painting (at least, it’s the one I already knew. I think it adorned my copy of Bernard DeVoto’s Across the Wide Missouri). At any rate the Twain book enhanced my appreciation of the exhibition like a piece of cheese goes with an apple. Twain of course wrote about his time on the Mississippi piloting steam boats. Though Bingham does show a couple of steamboats, most of his imagery depicts the more idyllic, romantic flatboats which were the primary river-borne freight carriers prior to the steam age (though they continued to play a useful role long after). The typical Bingham genre painting features cheerful flatboatmen in open-collared blouses with billowing sleeves, usually sporting either a broad brimmed hat, a topper, or a wool cap.  There is a clean look to them, with an emphasis on form and technique and beauty (perhaps my point will be better made if I say instead “a lack of ugliness”) which brings ihis work within a gnat’s-cough of kitsch, though whether it or it isn’t, that’s okay with me. They’re almost always shown with a happy expression, either in an attitude of tranquil and peaceful repose, or dancing and celebrating. No one’s ever grumbling about his crummy job as a day laborer. Alongside the finished paintings are many of the sketches and studies that led up to them, and in most cases I found his pencil and pen work to be better than the finished product (details like facial expressions and folds in clothing are much finer in the sketches). Some added bonuses: a period river panorama is depicted (on video screen), and we get to see some of the daguerreotypes that Bingham made of his work for reference after he sold the paintings off.

Sargent's portrait of Joseph Jefferson

Sargent’s portrait of Joseph Jefferson

Also of interest to readers of this blog, I should think, is the current Sargent: Portraits of Artists and Friends, on view through October 4. I’ve already raved about Madame X here (va va voom!) and she’s on view here, and so are portraits of many painters and writers, but of course I was especially interested in his depictions of showfolk including the theatre’s perennial “Rip Van Winkle” Joseph Jefferson, Edwin Booth, Ellen Terry (as Lady MacBeth), and Ada Rehan. I also loved a three part series he did of the striking and strange Robert Louis Stevenson. 

More details about both shows and everything else at the Met are at .

The Four Marx Bros. in “Animal Crackers”

Posted in Broadway, Comedy, Comedy Teams, Hollywood (History), Marx Brothers, Movies with tags , , , on August 28, 2015 by travsd


The Internet is an amazing thing. When memories fail, it can sometimes help us recover the facts with a clarity that startles. For example, I now know that July 21, 1979 was the first time I ever saw a Marx Brothers movie. That was the day when, several rights issues having been cleared, Animal Crackers was screened on television (CBS) for the first time. I was 13.

I think most people would agree that there can be no greater introduction to the Marx Brothers than Animal Crackers, which was released on this date in 1930. Based on their 1928 Broadway stage hit, with a book by Kaufman and Ryskind and songs by Kalmar and Ruby, the film version was directed by Mack Sennett veteran Victor Heerman who insisted on a highly beneficial pre-production cutting of the script, wrestling it into a shape that not only makes a better movie than The Cocoanuts, but a better Marx Brothers comedy. The technical issues that bogged down The Cocoanuts were much less of a factor here, as well, and while still more stage-bound than their subsequent vehicles, the script is so breath-taking in its insanity, so focused and fast-moving, that only the most obsessive-compulsive of cine-creeps could possibly care.


The plot here is a virtual remake of The Cocoanuts. Instead of the “Potter millions” it’s now Mrs. Rittenhouse (Margaret Dumont); instead of jewels getting stolen, it’s a painting; instead of a starving architect as the juvenile, it’s a starving painter, and instead of Florida, it’s the mansions of Long Island. Zeppo is once again a secretary named Jamison, whom apparently has treacherously just left his former employer Mr. Hammer in the lurch at the Hotel de Cocoanut. While the lines that all the other characters speak are literary embarrassments, Groucho and Chico are like vomiting volcanoes of punning, quipping nonsense-spouting vaudevillia, with Harpo contributing some of his most bizarre, surreal physical business ever (favorite moment: when he shoots at a statue with a gun and it springs to life and shoots back.)


Groucho (in jodphurs and pith helmet) is permanently ensconced in our memories as Captain Jeffrey T. Spaulding (the “T” stands for Edgar), the African explorer who arrives at a society weekend party with the sort of fanfare usually accorded only to heads of state, preceded by his secretary Jamison and some musicians (Harpo and Chico) whom, for some reason, are announced at the party as though they themselves are guests. Some of the Marx Brothers most famous jokes are drawn from this film, including the one about the elephant and the pajamas. So too is Groucho’s fourth-wall breaking Strange Interlude parody, and Groucho and Chico’s “left-handed moths” exhange, a virtual reprise of the “viaduct” scene in Cocoanuts.


While Animal Crackers is one of Groucho’s best vehicles (and the rapid-fire Kaufman and Ryskind script, it must be conceded, is a huge contributing factor), the element that pushes it over the edge into magic is the musical presence of songwriters Kalmar and Ruby. You will always find their names attached to the Marx Brothers’ best vehicles. Any producer who didn’t understand that (which seems to have been most of them) ought to have had his head examined. “Hooray for Captain Spaulding” of course became Groucho’s theme song, and “Hello, I Must Be Going” ranks with it near the top of the canon. Even the lover’s duet “Why Am I So Romantic?” is peppier and less insipid than these moments usually are in Marx Brothers films.


The film also benefits from one of the Marx Brothers’ best supporting casts, including in addition to Dumont; Lillian Roth, easily the most engaging ingenue in any Marx film; rotund Englishman Robert Grieg as Hives, the Butler; and Louis Sorin as the fraudulent art dealer Roscoe W. Chandler a.k.a “Abie, the Fish Man.”


Animal Crackers set a very high bar for all future Marxdom. Of their all-excellent next three Paramount vehicles, Horse Feathers and Duck Soup would cleave to its formula the closest, casting Groucho as an inexplicable man of of eminence, introduced to us at the top of each film with grandiose and crazy musical fanfare and then proceeding to pummel the hypocrites and lickspittles around him like the tackle dummies they are. That is the whole point of Groucho, and the engine of the Marx Brothers’ best comedy. Later producers would deviate from the Animal Crackers formula strictly at their peril.


For more on comedy film history please check out my new book: Chain of Fools: Silent Comedy and Its Legacies from Nickelodeons to Youtube, just released by Bear Manor Mediaalso available from etc etc etcchain%20of%20fools%20cvr%20front%20only-500x500To find out about  the history of vaudevilleconsult No Applause, Just Throw Money: The Book That Made Vaudeville Famous, available at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and wherever nutty books are sold. 


Stars of Slapstick #214: Viola Richard

Posted in Comedy, Hollywood (History), Movies, Silent Film, Stars of Slapstick, Women with tags , , , , , on August 26, 2015 by travsd


Today is the birthday of Viola Richard (1904-1973).  The entirety of her short career in films consisted of roles in silent Hal Roach comedy shorts between the years 1927 and 1928, normally in support of Charley Chase or Laurel and Hardy. She appeared in a little over a dozen films, including Why Girls Love Sailors, Sailors BewareDo Detectives Think?and Should Married Men Go HomeIn 1928 she left Roach to marry an executive at Fox and moved to New York (although you can see her in walk-on roles in two Roach talking shorts of the mid 30s. Get the rest of her story here.

To learn more about comedy film history don’t miss my book: Chain of Fools: Silent Comedy and Its Legacies from Nickelodeons to Youtube, just released by Bear Manor Mediaalso available from etc etc etc. For still more on show biz historyconsult No Applause, Just Throw Money: The Book That Made Vaudeville Famous, available at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and wherever nutty books are sold.

Stars of Vaudeville #896: Blanche Bates

Posted in Broadway, Melodrama and Master Thespians, Vaudeville etc., Women with tags , , , , , , , on August 25, 2015 by travsd


August 25, 1873 was the natal day of actress Blanche Bates, best known for her long years with David Belasco’s stock company where she created the female leads in the original productions of Madame Butterfly (1900) and The Girl of the Golden West (1905), among others. Born in Portland, Oregon, and began her professional career in San Francisco. Prior to joining Belasco, she had done a couple of shows with Augustin Daly. She only made but two films, The Border Legion (1918) and Tom’s Little Star (1919).

In 1914, she played the Palace at a time when Martin Beck was still trying to make his brand new flagship vaudeville house respectable by hiring stars from the “legit” theatre. But unlike some (e.g., Ethel Barrymore) she apparently didn’t make a habit of it. Her last Broadway credit was in 1934. She died in 1941.

For more on vaudeville historyconsult No Applause, Just Throw Money: The Book That Made Vaudeville Famous, available at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and wherever nutty books are sold.


Stars of Vaudeville #895: Mary Hay

Posted in Broadway, Dance, Hollywood (History), Silent Film, Vaudeville etc., Women with tags , , , , , , on August 22, 2015 by travsd


Today is the birthday of dancer and stage and screen actor Mary Hay (Mary Hay Caldwell, 1901-1957) .

An army brat, she was born at Fort Bliss, Texas. Her start in show business came about from studying and performing with the Denishawn Dancers in Los Angeles. As a result of this association, she was cast in the role of a French dancer in D.W. Griffith’s Hearts of the World (1918). On Griffth’s advice, she went east to get some stage experience, appearing in several Ziegfeld shows: the Nine O’Clock Frolic, the Ziegfeld Follies and Ziegfeld Girls of 1920. She then returned to Hollywood to appear in Griffith’s Eastward Ho (1919) and Way Down East (1920) alongside Richard Barthelmess, whom she married that year.

For the next decade the focus of her professional life was on Broadway. Among her successes were the Marilyn Miller vehicles Sally (1920-1922) and Sunny (1925-1926). She appeared in one last film with Barthelmess, New Toys in 1925. The two then separated, finally divorcing in 1927. Meantime she worked up a dance act with Clifton Webb, whom had also appeared in New Toys, and they performed in supper clubs throughout Europe and the U.S.

In 1929 starred  in big time vaudeville (including the Palace)  in the one act play The Valiant with Bert Lytell. Her last Broadway show was Greater Love, which opened and closed in March 1931. She spent most of the 1930s living in San Francisco acting in Little Theatre productions. In 1939 she married wealthy San Franciscan Richard Hastings and retired from show business.

For more on vaudeville historyconsult No Applause, Just Throw Money: The Book That Made Vaudeville Famous, available at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and wherever nutty books are sold.


Daniel Frohman

Posted in Broadway, Hollywood (History), Impresarios, Jews/ Show Biz, Movies, Silent Film with tags , , , , , on August 22, 2015 by travsd


Today is the birthday of Daniel Frohman (1851-1940) oldest of the three Frohman brothers, who helped revolutionize theatrical production in the U.S. With his brothers Charles and Gustave, he ran a nationwide booking system for touring New York shows, and co-managed Madison Square Garden for a time.

Daniel spearheaded the family involvement in motion picture production; starting in 1912 they were partners with Adolph Zukor in the Famous Players Film Company, forerunner of Paramount. When his brother Charles was killed on the Lusitania in 1915, Daniel assumed leadership of the family enterprises, most notably the Frohman Amusement Corp, which had been set up to produce films, and operated until 1920.


For more on the early film industry don’t miss my new book Chain of Fools: Silent Comedy and Its Legacies from Nickelodeons to Youtube, just released by Bear Manor Media, also available from etc etc etc


For more on theatre historyconsult No Applause, Just Throw Money: The Book That Made Vaudeville Famous, available at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and wherever nutty books are sold.


Several Sad Swan Songs: Unworthy Final Films by Great Comedians

Posted in Abbott and Costello, Charlie Chaplin, Comedians, Comedy, Comedy Teams, CRITICISM/ REVIEWS, Hollywood (History), Mae West, Marx Brothers, Ritz Brothers, Three Stooges with tags , , , , , , on August 21, 2015 by travsd

Happy Friday! Because people love nothing more than comedy that depresses them, I thought I would do a little post today about the sad exits of several classic comedy stars. By sad, I mean sad, in the literal sense. Most of these comedians are my heroes, who achieved the very highest heights of what it is possible to achieve in the comedy field. Their last films…well, they just kind of bring down their batting average.


The Heat’s On (1943)

Mae West’s last picture of the original Hollywood studio era (i.e. when she was relatively in her prime) although she would come back in the 1970s to do two more pictures, which we’ll get to. If you are a Mae West fan, The Heat’s On is disappointing; she’s only in about a quarter of the movie. In a normal Mae West movie Mae is the only important person, she is onscreen almost every minute, and she gets all the funny lines. In this one she is horribly upstaged by Victor Moore, William Gaxton and Xavier Cugat and a million musicians and singers in a crummy conventional plot about putting on a show. Ironically, West was the one whose name director/producer Gregory Ratoff relied upon to raise the financing to make the film. It plays with Mae’s image some, but has nothing like the normal ratio of Westian witticisms. A pale reflection of her earliest Paramount work.


Love Happy (1950)

Love Happy by some measures is the Marx Brothers’ last movie as a team, although Groucho’s turn is essentially a cameo, and Chico’s is somewhat underwritten. It was originally devised as a starring vehicle for Harpo. The other two got involved because Chico, a problem gambler,  needed the money.

The movie also has the reputation for being the “worst” Marx Brothers movie, although I don’t happen to agree. Love Happy is a relatively bad movie; it is weird, and it has problems, but personally I wouldn’t call it their worst picture by a long shot.  For various reasons, I would give that dubious honor to either Room Service, Go West or The Big StorePerhaps it is a three way tie.

The plot of Love Happy (co-written by Frank Tashlin)  is the usual contemptible claptrap about a troupe of actors desperate to put on a Broadway show. It is manifestly impossible to care whether they succeed or not.  Doubly so, in light of the undistinguished musical numbers we are obliged to sit through. On the other hand, the cast of the show is literally starving for food and that IS an interesting plot. Harpo, the inexplicable mute who appears to be part of the company, although I’m not sure in what capacity, goes to the basement of a grocery store to steal food for them and wanders away with several cans of sardines. Little does he know that one of the cans contains…stolen diamonds! Such plot as there is involves several wicked crooks trying to recover the jewels, which Harpo doesn’t even know they have. Which is ironic, because they could finance a Broadway show and several groceries if they could just fence these rocks, get me?

What is Chico’s role in all of this? Chico plays Harpo’s Italian friend.

And Groucho? He is a detective who narrates the story and shows up at the end. By now he was a solo movie star (Copacabana1947) and a game show host and had taken to wearing a real mustache and glasses rather than the fake ones that had been his previous trademarks. He is almost literally phoning it in here.

Most memorably, when financing for the film ran out the producers struck product placement deals, giving us the unusual spectacle in the big chase scene at the climax where the Marx Brothers run across rooftops past billboards for Mobil, Bulova, Kool and General Electric. Why, it’s just like watching television!


Utopia a.k.a Atoll K a.k.a Robinson Crusoeland (released in the U.S. in 1954, but released in Europe three years earlier)

Laurel and Hardy’s last film. The team’s last previous Hollywood film had been in 1945. In the meantime they had been touring with live shows. This being their only film offer, they took it. The film was a French/ Italian co-production. Both Laurel and Hardy suffered a wide variety of health problems as they were filming (see photo above). And the film is almost unwatchably bad. It concerns Laurel inheriting a private island. He and Hardy, and some friends go there in a shabby, broken-down boat. When they arrive, uranium is discovered. That’s the extent of the plot. The script is not funny, and the performances are painful. It’s one of the saddest exits in film history.


The 30 Foot Bride of Candy Rock (1959)

This is Lou Costello’s last film, released posthumously. He had broken up with Bud Abbott two years earlier. In this spoof of the typical drive-in movie fare of the day, he plays a schlub who is forced to marry a girl who has been exposed to radiation and has grown to the size of, well, Grape Ape. This is the only film on this list I have not seen, although I’ll trust the conventional wisdom that it’s a stinkeroo. Which only makes me want to see it all the more.


A Countess from Hong Kong (1967)

Charlie Chaplin’s last film and first foray into color and widescreen casts Sophia Loren as a White Russian aristocrat who is now a taxi dancer and prostitute in Hong Kong. She stows away in conservative diplomat Marlon Brando’s state room. After much resistance on Brando’s part, they fall in love.

Unfortunately, despite the involvement of these stellar artists the film veers way off course in amazingly basic ways for so major a filmmaker. For starters, when does it take place? Originally written in the ‘30s, it has now been tweaked to be “sometime after World War II” (as an opening title tells us), but the fashions and some of the music and dancing seem to tell us it is contemporary (1966). Certainly there is nothing in the film to tell us that it’s a period piece, set in an earlier time. That being the case, our White Russian taxi dancer must be substantially older than Sophia Loren, even if she was a child at the time of the Revolution. And if it is 1966, why on earth is Marlon Brando’s character taking an ocean liner to travel to an important diplomatic post, needlessly taking several days as opposed to several hours by airplane? And if it is supposed to be set in an earlier decade, why do we have a scene in which Angela Scoular dances a Watusi as though she were in an episode of Shindig?

So Chaplin (then 77) was showing signs of being woefully out of touch. Further, the attitudes in his sex comedy are perplexing to say the least. The key to such comedies is to keep them light, fast, and ribald. The tone of A Countess is dark, plodding, and prudish. In My Autobiography, Chaplin reveals himself to be surprisingly Victorian on the subject of sex for someone who had apparently had so much of it, and with so many partners. Brando’s character is a kind of mouthpiece for that perspective in this film, and the movie sort of oddly takes his point of view rather than (as most such comedies do) making him a figure of fun. Since this is a film by the world’s greatest comedian, fun is just what we would expect a lot more of in such a film. Door slamming, for example. Farces are predicated on the hilarious choreography of such comic business. Such had been the case with his early films. For a more recent example of how it’s done, see Noises Off (1992). Chaplin does stage some of this kind of business in the film, but it is amazingly flaccid and perfunctory, it never ignites.

While Sophia Loren is actually great in it (and could potentially have been even better), Brando almost single-handedly sinks the whole movie. As we have said, Chaplin’s cinematic style is passive —it depends entirely on the performances within the frame to achieve its effects. But though Chaplin’s style is set up to support a performance, Brando steadfastly refuses to give one. As we know, while Chaplin was laissez-faire on the photographic side, he micromanaged his actors right down to demonstrating to them every gesture to make. Brando, a method actor, couldn’t stand this, and rebelled. In A Countess from Hong Kong his body is moving through a performance according to Chaplin’s instructions, but his interior life has checked out. You can see his hostility and unhappiness right there on the screen. He doesn’t seem to want to be in Chaplin’s movie. And since Chaplin’s entire film depends on Brando’s performance, A Countess from Hong Kong becomes a turkey.

This production brought to you through the courtesy of Kiwi Shoe Polish

This production brought to you through the courtesy of Kiwi Shoe Polish

Skidoo (1968)

After a lifetime of reading about it (being as it was Groucho Marx’s last film, among other things) I finally got to see this cult classic on TCM about five years ago. They played it in the pre-dawn hours, much where it belongs. The film is almost impossible to describe, so I’ll just try to hit it in fragments. Directed by the great Otto Preminger at a time in his career when he was desperately trying to remain au courant, this nutty film stars the Great One Mr. Jackie Gleason as a retired mobster, whom with his wife Carol Channing, is worried about his hippie daughter and her hippie boyfriend.

Forced by the top mobster “God” (Groucho) to do one last hit, he goes undercover into a jail so he can bump off fellow gangster Mickey Rooney before he can testify before a Senate commission. While in jail, Gleason does LSD. His trip is enjoyable in just the way you would imagine (“I can see MATHEMATICS!” he screams at one point).

Along the way, we meet just about every character actor in Hollywood, a mishmash of old and young: Austin Pendleton (in his first Hollywood role — and bald!), Frankie Avalon, Burgess MeredithCesar RomeroGeorge RaftPeter Lawford, Fred Clark, Frank Gorshin, etc etc etc. Harry Nilsson, who also wrote the soundtrack and its several songs (including the famous musical closing credits), also has a small role as a prison guard.

At the time, when there was a lot of this kind of stuff going on, it no doubt seemed less than the sum of its parts, and it bombed with both press and public. Now however, it has the added value of being a historical curiosity, and I highly recommend seeing it at least once in your life just to say you did.

And how does Groucho come off? Well…oddly, Grouchy. He’s not too funny in this, though we are sort of conditioned to laugh at things he says in a deadpan voice, even when they aren’t jokes, and it can be hard to turn that reaction off. He’s kind of mean and scary in this movie, a pool playing, homicidal gangster. He never leaves the tiny confines of his yacht, an undeniable reflection of the fact that the actor was 78 years old.

We’re lucky to see him standing at all. Believe me, Groucho was capable of doing shows where he DIDN’T stand. In 1976, not long before he died, I saw him on this Bob Hope special, where, in the aftermath of several strokes, he sat in a chair and uttered quips that were difficult to understand because his diction had gone. It was a sad spectacle, and to me as an 11 year old, a confusing one. Was I supposed to get this? No, son, the grown-ups have just done something very ill-advised. Get used to that!


Kook’s Tour (1970) 

The Three Stooges’ final product may be the saddest of all. Intended as the pilot for a tv series, it’s essentially a lot of MOS film footage of the three elderly men pretending to goof around on vacation, with Moe Howard providing travelogue style voice over narration. There is no plot, and the slapstick is almost nonexistent. Really Kook’s Tour looks like it exists just to give the old guys something to do. Sadly, Larry Fine’s stroke right after filming spoiled the prospects of a series. As awful as this program is, it’s still got to better than the movie Moe was trying to get off the ground in 1975 undoubtedly would have been.


Blazing Stewardesses (1975)

This bizarre film concerns three porn-refugee stewardesses who help a bordello madam (Yvonne De Carlo) and two cow pokes (B movie western stars Bob Livingston and Red Barry) save their dude ranch.


Along the way they are helped (hindered) by the two surviving Ritz Brothers, Harry and Jimmy (Al had died in 1965). Their roles were originally to have been played by the remaining Three Stooges, but Larry Fine and Moe Howard both died in 1975, and no one wants Curly Joe de Rita. The film’s title was a craven and rather pathetic attempt to capitalize on the recent success of Blazing Saddles, which is as a Himalaya next to this ant hill of a comedy. Naughty Stewardesses, which features some of the same creative personnel, had come out a few months earlier, though this is technically not a sequel. Seeing two Ritz Brothers in their mid 70s cut up as though they were still in their 30s is quite a spectacle.

“I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!”

Sextette (1978)

Mae West was a pro — she had been in show business for several decades. In fact, it would be technically accurate to say that she had been a professional actress and performer since the 19th century.

Thus, Mae knew that the key to success is: whatever happens, you gotta keep hustling. Keep your mind on your goals, and keep hustling to realize them. Sometimes there may be layoffs. There may be some down time between projects. But always keep a hand in, because the wheel will eventually turn around again.

And so it was that in 1978 — 35 years after her last starring vehicle and over 40 years since starring in a vehicle that could be called her own — Mae West finally got the chance to make her next script, Sextette. She’d written the script in the early 1950s, when she was already a shade long in the tooth, but roughly age appropriate. Then she’d starred in a stage version of the play about ten years later. And now here she was…not 50, not 60, not 70, not 80, but 85 years old, starring in this picture. The iffiness springs not from the fact she was elderly. Hey, look at The Whales of August and On Golden Pond. Nor does chagrin emerge even from the fact that her character is 85 years old and SEXUAL. Hey, look at Cocoon. But what is strange (uncanny? Halloween-like?) about Sextette is that West insisted on playing her character as though the 40 years hadn’t passed at all. The idea was that she was STILL the same sex symbol (a notion that had already become questionable among audiences in the late 1930s). And so in this movie her character gets married to her sixth husband (hence the title), a young Timothy Dalton who was some six decades her junior.

An to prove that she Got By With a Little Help From Her Friends, there was also Ringo Starr! Dom Deluise! Tony Curtis! George Hamilton! Alice Cooper! Keith Moon! All flirting with her (and presumably doing it with her on a large canopy bed with silver, space-age pillows) just as though she were half a century younger. Hey, what the hell. It was the 70s. Sex was in. Even gross sex was in. And not only that, it’s a musical! With crazy disco numbers! Some of which Mae sings herself!

How did this even happen? you may well ask. Well in 1970, Mae had appeared in another of the era’s more notorious films, Myra Breckenridge, an x rated adaptation of the Gore Vidal novel about a transsexual, which despite the adventurous subject matter was a critical and popular flop. Still, Mae was back in the game again and presumably bankable on some level, and so financial backing was found.

At this stage of her life, Mae’s hearing, sight and memory were all gone, so throughout the picture her lines were fed to her through a special ear piece, and you generally see handsome young gents leading her around by the arm. Which a gentleman should do anyway. None of the major studios would distribute the film, so its initial release wasn’t the huge splash one might expect given this major star’s emergence from forced retirement. But over time it has become a cult favorite among, oh, people like me. Everyone should see this film at least once. No one should ever see the film more than once.

But there’s an up side to all this. West passed away two years after Sextette’s release. I think it’s really nice that she passed at a moment when she felt like she was back in the game.


Cracking Up (1983)

Okay, Jerry Lewis is still with us, but he is 89 years old, and I think it safe to say that Cracking Up will prove to have been his last comedy film as both director and star. In every case we’ve discussed in this blogpost the movie occurred because the artist didn’t know how to quit while they were ahead. And we have to bring some humanity to the contemplation of that. Because that is obviously a hard thing to know how to do. Now Jerry, like many of the folks above (Groucho, Mae West) had more than one “last film”, but kept coming back to the well.  First there was his previous last film as comedy auteur Which Way to the Front (1970), set in Nazi Germany during World War Two. And then there his was aborted Holocaust movie The Day the Clown Cried (1972). (I like to refer to the years 1970-72 as Jerry’s “Third Reich Period”.) After which he ostensibly and perhaps wisely retired.

But…no, eight years later he returned to the big screen for his big “come back” film Hardly Working (1980). The interesting thing about this phase is what he didn’t do. In the last phase of his previous career, Jerry had been trying to “grow”. From around 1965 through 1972, you can see him trying to adjust his previous screen character to account for the fact that he was now a middle aged man. But when he returned in 1980, it was as though he had said “to hell with that.” He just returned to doing what he always did, only much worse. Audiences had grown more sophisticated on some level since Jerry had left the screen. The big stars were SNL alum who made satirical, daring and hip comedies. Jerry ignored what was going on around him at the time and made a film where he just fell down a lot (at the age of 54). Moderate audiences checked out Hardly Working out of curiosity, and I guess Jerry took that as positive reinforcement for his bad behavior.

So…in 1983 he went back to the well yet again with Smorgasbord , which he renamed Cracking Up. Co-written with his old screenwriting partner Bill Richmond the film does everything it can to ignore the commercial will of audiences in 1983, by phoning in Lewis’s own 2o and 30 year old screen behavior, and populating the rest of the movie with over-exposed tv comedians like Foster Brooks and Milton Berle and football player Dick Butkus. After a single preview, it was decided not to distribute the film to theatres. It went straight to cable tv. (Fortunately, Jerry has had many chances to redeem himself as an actor since 1983. This is his last hurrah as actor/director).

To find out more about  the history of show businessconsult No Applause, Just Throw Money: The Book That Made Vaudeville Famous, available at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and wherever nutty books are sold. And check out my other book Chain of Fools: Silent Comedy and Its Legacies from Nickelodeons to Youtube, released by Bear Manor Mediaalso available from etc etc etc


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