And Now For Something Completely Different — Comedy! Part Two

As with many of my generation (especially boys), my first major comedy influence was The Three Stooges. Yeah, yeah — I can already hear the groans! There’s an old saw which says, boys (especially from my generation) love The Three Stooges. On the other hand, girls hate them. Obviously, there are exceptions, but in my experience, more often than not, the rule holds true .

Thanks to my mother, who kept files of everything having to do with her four sons throughout our childhoods, I have a paper written in 1962 (1^st grade/2^nd grade — who remembers). It was (and I’m being kind here) a picture I drew of a man (more of a stick figure) standing between what I assume are two large klieg lights (and for some strange reason I can’t remember, what looks to be a big plant next to him). At the top of the page I wrote the words, “I want to be an actor. When I see the Three Stooges, I get an iden (yes, my six-year-old self misspelled the word, idea) I want to be an actor.”

A few years later, I was introduced to four complete and utter maniacs. Their names — Groucho, Chico, Harpo and Zeppo — The Marx Bros. I couldn’t get enough of them (still can’t) — The Cocoanuts, A Night At the Opera, Duck Soup, and then, the miraculous re-release of Animal Crackers, unseen for years. What The Stooges started, The Marx Bros. completed. I would be a comic actor, fate sealed!

Comedically, I’ve had numerous influences through the years. I’ve probably appeared in, or directed more Neil Simon plays than I can count. It is my firm belief, Simon is a genius, especially when it comes to dialogue. I find it sad so many of Simon’s stage plays didn’t transfer all that well to the screen (with notable exceptions, The Odd Couple being a major example). And the team of Richard Dreyfus and Marsha Mason in The Goodbye Girl, is as good as romantic comedy gets.

On stage, it was Simon and Murray Schisgal, followed later by writers like Paul Rudnick. And Sid Caesar’s Your Show of Shows, which was rerun throughout the 1970s, was sheer brilliance. Then came the films of Mel Brooks and Woody Allen (both graduates of the Sid Caesar school of comedy, as was Simon), and so very many others. These people and their work, taught me more about the crafts of acting, writing and directing than any college or professional program ever could.

I was also fortunate enough to grow up in the age of Firesign Theatre, Monty Python, Peter Cooke & Dudley Moore, SCTV, the original National Lampoon gang, and, a little later, the original cast of Saturday Night Live.

How all of this brings me to two comedic gems I feel have been woefully overlooked, I’m not sure. But both are films that have stayed with me through the years, and which I re-watch when I’m feeling the need for inspiration. The first of these films is, No Way To Treat A Lady, written by John Gay (from a story by the immortal William Goldman, whose resume is too long to recount, so I’ll just mention two — Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid, and The Princess Bride). The film was directed by Jack Smight.

The second film, Where’s Poppa, with a screenplay by Robert Klane (based on his novel), was directed by the comic genius, Carl Reiner, yet another Show of Shows veteran, as well as creator and cast member of The Dick Van Dyke Show.

Both films share one major thing in common — their leading man. George Segal, currently known to television audiences as “Pops” Solomon, the grandfather on ABC’s sitcom, The Goldbergs, was, in the early and mid 1960s, known as a “serious” actor. His turns in Ship of Fools, King Rat, and Whose Afraid of Virginia Wolf? (opposite Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor), for which he received an Oscar nomination, cemented that reputation. But it was his work in No Way To Treat A Lady, and Where’s Poppa? which quickly led to other screen comedies, including The Owl & The Pussycat (opposite Barbra Streisand), The Hot Rock and Blume In Love, all of which helped cement his reputation as one of the top comedic leading men of the 1970s.

Another thing both films have in common is, there’s a darkness within the stories, which, somehow, makes the humor even funnier. In No Way To Treat A Lady, Segal plays Morris Brummel, a NYC detective on the hunt for a serial killer, played to perfection by Rod Steiger. Steiger’s character, Christopher Gill, who comes from a theatrical family, is a master of disguise and accents, which makes tracking him down incredibly difficult. Gill takes an interest in the detective hunting him, and begins calling Morris, taunting him. As I said, the story is dark. The movie is funny.

A tremendous part of the humor comes from the wonderful Eileen Heckart, as Mrs. Brummel, Morris’s mother (who he still lives with). In Heckart’s capable hands, what could easily have become a one-dimensional caricature of the standard Jewish mother, becomes a fully realized multi-dimensional human being. The gorgeous and talented Lee Remick, who becomes Segal’s romantic interest, is the one-person who has seen Gill, making her a witness, as well as a potential victim.

There’s a lot going on in this film. In lesser hands, it could easily have become a mess. But the combination of incredible acting, a superb, funny and, at times, thrilling screenplay, and Smight providing a light directorial touch, firmly places this movie on my list of Must Sees.

I have a sneaking suspicion, No Way To Treat A Lady may have led Segal to Where’s Poppa? Once again, we have Segal as NY attorney, Gordon Hocheiser , who still lives with his seemingly senile mother (the amazing, Ruth Gordon). What keeps Hocheiser home, is the deathbed promise he and his brother, Sidney (the hysterically on point, Ron Liebman) made their father, to never put Momma in a home.

When Gordon falls in love with the ethereal, almost angelic, and absolutely shiksa nurse, Louise (Trish Van Devere, perfectly cast), hired to care for Momma, Hocheiser determines the last thing he’s going to do is allow Momma to screw this one up — no matter what he has to do to prevent it.

That’s the set-up. As in No Way To Treat A Lady, we’re dealing with a dutiful Jewish son, with an overbearing mother, who falls in love with a beautiful shiksa (for the uninitiated, a shiksa is a non-Jewish woman). That’s where the films diverge. Where’s Poppa is filled with so very much more — Sidney’s nighttime runs through Central Park, an unbelievably funny courtroom scene with a pre-All In the Family Rob Reiner doing battle with the ultimate war-hawk, army Colonel, played by the great Barnard Hughes, just to mention two.

From the very first moment, Reiner the elder, directs this fast-paced film to perfection. There are moments so hysterically funny, situations so easily relatable (especially if you’re from NYC, and Jewish), you have to be careful not to laugh so hard you miss out on some of the fun.

While both films are very much of their time (late 60s to 1970), the humor stands up. Funny is funny.

In any event, these two comedies are on my list of movies you have to see — unless, of course, you have no sense of humor and don’t like comedy. I’d also like to give honorable mentions to two other films from that same time period. Harold and Maude, a story about a very rich young man with social anxieties (Bud Cort), who falls in love with a 70-something, free-spirited woman (once again, Ruth Gordon) who teaches him to enjoy life. All I can say is, it’s a wonderful, funny and even poignant film.

The other honorable mention goes to The Loved One, based on a novel by British satirist Evelyn Waugh. This comedy deals with the very profitable funeral industry in Los Angeles, and stars a young Robert Morse (fresh off the smash Broadway musical, How To Succeed In Business Without Even Trying), the always brilliant comedy of Jonathan Winters, the stunningly beautiful, Anjanette Comer, and, once again, the incredible Rod Steiger. There’s also an all-star guest cast that’s a veritable who’s who of 60s comedy.

All four of these films remain fresh and funny. They still make me laugh. And they continue to teach me about my craft.

And Now For Something Completely Different — Comedy! Part One

When I began writing today’s blog, I had no intention of making it a two-parter. But as I went on, I realized it was getting longer and longer. And while the through-line of the entire piece was comedy, there seemed to be a dividing line between my musings on the art of acting, writing and directing comedy, vs. my original intention, discussing two films I consider underrated comedy classics. In any event, maybe it’s because I’m just so in love with the topic, I had a lot to say; or possibly I just love having the ability to use as many words as I like, without having to edit my thoughts to fit in Twitter’s allotment of words per tweet. Either way, this is part one of two.

As an actor-writer-director (and sometime, producer, although that’s far from being my strongest area of expertise, as anyone who’s worked with me will attest), I have spent the past (G_d help us) 43 years, performing and directing everything from the heaviest of dramatic works, to musical theater (where I got my professional start), to works of complete & utter slapstick farce. And while I enjoy doing dramatic works (the only acting award I’ve ever won was for playing Roy Cohn in Tony Kushner’s, Angels In America: Millennium Approaches — not exactly lightweight material), it is comedy that lights my life.

While you would never guess it from the films, plays and performances nominated for Academy and Tony Awards, both of which, year after year, demonstrate a clear preference for drama over comedy, and dramatic performance over comedic, a not so little secret pretty much everyone in the business knows is, comedy is a shitload harder than drama.

There is a famous theatrical “deathbed quote,” attributed to everyone from the great British stage actor, Sir Edmund Kean, to the British film actor, Edmund Gwenn (best known for his role as Kris Kringle in the movie, Miracle On 34^th Street), and even Groucho Marx, which bares restating. And while the identity of who actually said it remains a deep, dark theatrical mystery, the line was never uttered more truthfully, or with greater comedic affect than by Peter O’Toole in the film, My Favorite Year.

As movie star, Alan Swann (loosely based on Errol Flynn), O’Toole explains to young comedy writer, Benjy Stone (loosely based on a young Mel Brooks, and beautifully played by Mark-Linn Baker), “Comedy is such a mystery to me. I feel the way Edmund Kean did. On his death-bed, Kean was asked how he felt. He answered, Dying is easy. Comedy is hard.”

It may lose a little something without O’Toole’s beautifully-timed delivery, but as far as I’m concerned, that line states an under-appreciated truth. It is much more difficult to write, act, and/or direct a successful comedy — one that has audiences rolling in the aisles — then the somewhat cheaper effect, of bringing them to tears. For me, working on dramas is something I do, to remind others of my versatility (and/or because I need the work).

Another sad truism of the entertainment industry, especially as practiced in the United States, is, people love to pigeon-hole actors, writers and directors. Have a successful comedy, that’s how people in the industry see you from then on. Likewise, act, write or direct a successful drama, and that becomes your niche.

As an example, think about how difficult it was (and still is), for actors and directors to try their hand at something different, without pissing off their audience. The two easiest examples that come to mind are Bill Murray and Woody Allen. Both attained their success as comics, or comic actors (and, additionally in Allen’s case, as writer/director).

In Murray’s case, his work on Saturday Night Live, and in films like Caddyshack, Stripes and Ghostbusters, established him as a major comedy star. But when he tried his hand at something different, The Razor’s Edge, a serious project which he lobbied hard to get made, Murray was slammed! While not a great film, The Razor’s Edge was certainly a decent enough one. And Murray’s performance was pretty damn good. But his fans, the box office, and Hollywood (as the box office goes, so goeth Hollywood) didn’t want to see a serious Bill Murray. And it took years before he was finally accepted as a terrific actor — period.

Woody Allen began his career as a comedy writer on The Sid Caesar Show (a later version of Your Show of Shows), one of televisions all-time classic comedies, and the precursor of shows like SNL. Allen then moved into stand-up comedy, and from there into screen comedies he wrote or co-wrote, directed and starred in. The resulting films, What’s Up, Tiger Lilly?, Take The Money and Run, Bananas, Play It Again, Sam (which started as a Broadway comedy), Sleeper and Annie Hall, cemented Allen’s reputation as a comic genius. And while a number of Allen’s subsequent dramadeys have met with great success, people do not respond anywhere near as well to his serious works. Those who remember, long for the days when Woody Allen was just funny.

As for me, given the choice, 99 out of 100 times, I’d rather act in, or direct a comedy. As a writer, I’m not even sure I would know how to begin writing a “serious” work. My writing mind rebels at the thought. Comedy is what I know and love. It’s the way my mind works. As an actor and director, I’ve found no greater challenge, and no greater satisfaction than when my work brings howls of laughter to an audience. Not to get too hyperbolic about it, but laughter feeds my soul.

Okay — so what’s the point of all this (I hear you say — if you’re still here)? The point is, I want to discuss and highlight some of the great comedies that have inspired and influenced me as an artist. Some, like Mel Brooks’ The Producers, Blazing Saddles and Young Frankenstein, are obvious choices. While these three Brooks films are totally different in tone, tenor and subject matter, as well as the growth of Brooks’ sophistication as a director, they share one thing — they’re all hysterically funny.

They’re also incredibly well known comedies. In Part II of this post, I want to discuss several lesser-known screen comedies which, as far as I’m concerned, are comic masterpieces. They’re films I first saw in my teens, and, due to the combination and quality of screenplays, acting and directing, had very direct and major influences on me, comedically.