This is a textbook case of how to make a so-so movie with only a few worthwhile things, out of a good idea and a brilliant first act,by having a failure of nerve. If it had ended with the savagery with which it had begun, it would be a classic.
For those who don't know, the film is a satire about a movie director who tries to revive what is looking to be a huge flop by turning it into a semi-porn film. Unfortunately it turns chicken, and doesn't follow through on its nastiness.
Key to the plot is that the director, played by Richard Mulligan, intends to cast his wife, played by Julie Andrews, in an X-rated role, after she has spent her entire career in G-rated family movies.
The movie comes to be about Julie Andrews showing her tits. Unfortunately, it didn't really work as a comic payoff, albeit Julie Andrews has very nice breasts, and I did always have a crush on her. But does it cause a laugh? No.
What if, when the Julie Andrews character is drugged into letting go, it unleashes a sexual dynamo that brings to mind the great George S. Kaufman line that she'd by a nymphomaniac if only she'd calm down? What if she went nuts on the set, and had it off with all the extras, all the stagehands, and most of the props? What if, inside, she was a complete and total slut?
You would, of course, NOT show anything of it, just people's reaction to it. And that, I think, would make you laugh. Think Julie Christie under the table at the dinner party in "Shampoo." (Robert Towne, when once asked what was going on under that table, said, "At this point, about $40 million at the box office." Adjust, where necessary, for inflation.)
This is what I mean about "S.O.B." showing a failure of nerve. The joke, it seems to me, should be Julie Andrews getting down-and-dirty. And if you're going to have Julie Andrews get down-and-dirty---then go ahead and have her get down-and-dirty.
THEN you could have the director slowly turn from an obsessed nutcase trying desperately to hang on to his paltry Hollywood success---to a jealous husband who decides he would rather not have the rest of the world see his ex-wife like this. The last act of the film becomes much better motivated than the lame slapstick Edwards used, and gives a much greater opportunity for real comedy as Felix tries valiantly, but too late, to stop the juggernaut he has created, which rolls right along over him.
As with all such hypotheticals, there's no way to tell if that would have worked any better. But I smile more at my version of how it should have been done than at the way it ends now.
For those who don't know, the film is a satire about a movie director who tries to revive what is looking to be a huge flop by turning it into a semi-porn film. Unfortunately it turns chicken, and doesn't follow through on its nastiness.
Key to the plot is that the director, played by Richard Mulligan, intends to cast his wife, played by Julie Andrews, in an X-rated role, after she has spent her entire career in G-rated family movies.
The movie comes to be about Julie Andrews showing her tits. Unfortunately, it didn't really work as a comic payoff, albeit Julie Andrews has very nice breasts, and I did always have a crush on her. But does it cause a laugh? No.
What if, when the Julie Andrews character is drugged into letting go, it unleashes a sexual dynamo that brings to mind the great George S. Kaufman line that she'd by a nymphomaniac if only she'd calm down? What if she went nuts on the set, and had it off with all the extras, all the stagehands, and most of the props? What if, inside, she was a complete and total slut?
You would, of course, NOT show anything of it, just people's reaction to it. And that, I think, would make you laugh. Think Julie Christie under the table at the dinner party in "Shampoo." (Robert Towne, when once asked what was going on under that table, said, "At this point, about $40 million at the box office." Adjust, where necessary, for inflation.)
This is what I mean about "S.O.B." showing a failure of nerve. The joke, it seems to me, should be Julie Andrews getting down-and-dirty. And if you're going to have Julie Andrews get down-and-dirty---then go ahead and have her get down-and-dirty.
THEN you could have the director slowly turn from an obsessed nutcase trying desperately to hang on to his paltry Hollywood success---to a jealous husband who decides he would rather not have the rest of the world see his ex-wife like this. The last act of the film becomes much better motivated than the lame slapstick Edwards used, and gives a much greater opportunity for real comedy as Felix tries valiantly, but too late, to stop the juggernaut he has created, which rolls right along over him.
As with all such hypotheticals, there's no way to tell if that would have worked any better. But I smile more at my version of how it should have been done than at the way it ends now.
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