All of Me shares with a whole heap of wonderful screwball comedies an extremely straightforward method: Employ absolute reason in dealing with the ridiculous. Start with a wacky scenario, set up the rules, and adhere to them. The laughs occur when everyday human nature comes into quarrel with bizarre incidents. Carl Reiner has made a significant contribution to contemporary American comedy, both as a performer and director. Working exclusively in the genre of comedy, his films range from slapstick humor to sophisticated comic parodies of classical Hollywood genres. He chooses to bring other genres to his comedy rather than comedy to other genres.
The plot and its treatment may be light as a feather, but we can relate to virtually all of the intentions of the characters. There is, for instance, the millionaire bachelorette Lily Tomlin, who wants to live forever and thinks she has discovered a way to do that. There is the discontented lawyer Steve Martin, who is distractedly depressed with his work and will do anything to get a promotion, even indulge nut-case clients like Tomlin. There is the wicked Victoria Tennant, who plans to viciously swindle Tomlin, and there is the extraordinarily hilarious Prahka, who innocently expects to transmit Tomlin's soul into a brass pot, and the put it in Tennant's body. There is, nonetheless, a dreadful psychic blunder, and when Tomlin dies, she transmigrates instead into Martin's body.
The second the premise begins to fire off laughs is the second it's executed: the first time Martin has to contend with this foreign female being inside his brain. He keeps command of the left side of his body. She commands the right. They are struggling to cross the sidewalk together, each in their own way, and this sets up a frenzied tug-of-war only a razor-sharp physical comedian like Martin could pull off. Tomlin vanishes into Martin's body, but she does not vanish from the movie. Her reflection can be seen in mirrors, and there is some superb timing concerned with the way they play scenes with one another's mirror images. For another thing, there is a genuine feeling of her presence even when Martin is alone on the screen. And lighthearted as the movie may be, it scores a lot of points by speculating on the ways in which a man and a woman could learn to coexist thusly.
Frankly, even above Martin's masterful antics, my favorite might be Richard Libertini as the indecipherably Indian Prahka, who repeats words he doesn't understand in a tone of complete agreement. Yet, although All of Me is the last of the four Martin/Reiner collaborations, it gives Martin one of his all-time best screen opportunities to highlight his brilliant kind of physical slapstick. Watch Roger/Edwina have a go at walking down the street, or going to the bathroom, or making love with the surprisingly sexy Tennant. Each action is an awe-inspiring exhibition of fractured dexterity. Watch right-side Edwina assume responsibility in a courtroom, as left-side Roger falls asleep and the ever-so-feminine Edwina moves their body in a bizarrely macho swagger. The actor's challenge is hopelessly problematical---Steve Martin playing Lily Tomlin playing Roger Cobb---and superbly accomplished.
The plot and its treatment may be light as a feather, but we can relate to virtually all of the intentions of the characters. There is, for instance, the millionaire bachelorette Lily Tomlin, who wants to live forever and thinks she has discovered a way to do that. There is the discontented lawyer Steve Martin, who is distractedly depressed with his work and will do anything to get a promotion, even indulge nut-case clients like Tomlin. There is the wicked Victoria Tennant, who plans to viciously swindle Tomlin, and there is the extraordinarily hilarious Prahka, who innocently expects to transmit Tomlin's soul into a brass pot, and the put it in Tennant's body. There is, nonetheless, a dreadful psychic blunder, and when Tomlin dies, she transmigrates instead into Martin's body.
The second the premise begins to fire off laughs is the second it's executed: the first time Martin has to contend with this foreign female being inside his brain. He keeps command of the left side of his body. She commands the right. They are struggling to cross the sidewalk together, each in their own way, and this sets up a frenzied tug-of-war only a razor-sharp physical comedian like Martin could pull off. Tomlin vanishes into Martin's body, but she does not vanish from the movie. Her reflection can be seen in mirrors, and there is some superb timing concerned with the way they play scenes with one another's mirror images. For another thing, there is a genuine feeling of her presence even when Martin is alone on the screen. And lighthearted as the movie may be, it scores a lot of points by speculating on the ways in which a man and a woman could learn to coexist thusly.
Frankly, even above Martin's masterful antics, my favorite might be Richard Libertini as the indecipherably Indian Prahka, who repeats words he doesn't understand in a tone of complete agreement. Yet, although All of Me is the last of the four Martin/Reiner collaborations, it gives Martin one of his all-time best screen opportunities to highlight his brilliant kind of physical slapstick. Watch Roger/Edwina have a go at walking down the street, or going to the bathroom, or making love with the surprisingly sexy Tennant. Each action is an awe-inspiring exhibition of fractured dexterity. Watch right-side Edwina assume responsibility in a courtroom, as left-side Roger falls asleep and the ever-so-feminine Edwina moves their body in a bizarrely macho swagger. The actor's challenge is hopelessly problematical---Steve Martin playing Lily Tomlin playing Roger Cobb---and superbly accomplished.
