Cracking Up (1977)

It’s interesting to me that audiences in general are more willing to go along with comedies centered on the end of the world than on natural disasters (of course, the end of the world may be a result of a natural disaster, and I’m not completely certain that there are all that many to make comparisons to, regardless).  I think this is largely due to the fact that we have no real world frame of reference for the destruction of the Earth (or at least crossing the finish line of our time upon it).  Sure, we know all about what happened to the dinosaurs, and we can define an extinction level event, but outside of this, it’s entirely what’s in our imaginations.  By contrast, we have seen quite clearly what avalanches, volcano eruptions, tidal waves, et cetera look like, and we have seen the havoc wreaked upon the lives of their victims.  Thus, we can have some fun with apocalyptic concepts, like in Seeking a Friend for the End of the World or It’s a Disaster, while actual disasters tend to be confined to films like The Poseidon Adventure or The Towering Inferno (or seemingly everything Irwin Allen ever put his hand to).  You could say that films like Airplane! are successful disaster comedies, and to some degree or another that’s true.  But Airplane is more a sendup of the disaster film tropes, specifically those developed in films like Airport (astonishingly not produced by Allen) than something making light of aviation tragedies (and that’s another point: the difference between focusing on the events or the characters).  At any rate, it’s the devastation of a 9.7 magnitude earthquake that forms the backdrop for Rowby Goren and Chuck Staley’s sketch comedy film Cracking Up, and it’s also a fairly good example of why this setting doesn’t work one hundred percent (but it does work a little).

After the above mentioned quake, intrepid reporters (wait for it…) Walter Concrete (Phil Proctor) and Barbara Halters (played in drag by Peter Bergman) saunter around Los Angeles, interview survivors for their stories (read: skits), and pause often for commercial breaks (read: more skits).

I do not know the complete backstory of this film, but if I had to guess, I would say that it’s a collection of sketches by different comedy troupes (you can tell they’re disparate because the same groups of actors tend to appear in their own individual scenes) that were thrown together around a flimsy wraparound concept.  Another thing that points to this is that the quality of the visuals varies quite drastically between segments.  In fact, it appears to me that either some of these scenes were recorded on video and transferred to film, or they were recorded onto film from a video source (but I’m no tech expert).  Nonetheless, it’s not the visual aesthetics for which we come to this film but the jokes, and as with almost every portmanteau film and/or book I’ve ever encountered, some of the separate sequences kind of work and some of them are dead on arrival.  For example, in an early voiceover we are informed that “the damage is approximated at nine-hundred-billion dollars, plus tax and license.”  Sister Simple (Edie McClurg) uses some chump to unwittingly bolster her televangelism ministry (one of the better scenes).  A greasy spoon diner has a maître d’, an emcee, and a floor show complete with bad comedian, worse psychic, and eyeroll-inducing songs.  There’s even a variation on the classic Abbott & Costello “Who’s on First?” bit, featuring Harry Shearer and David L. Lander (the Squiggy of “Lenny and Squiggy” fame), which centers on the bands, The Who, The Guess Who, and Yes (I’ll let you parse out the syntax).  

A lot of the comedy is quite politically incorrect, with one sketch involving people with neurological disorders and one advertising a little something called the “Nigger Bopper” (and, in fairness, the “Honky Stopper”), to name but two.  So, if you’re the sort that gets offended by things like that, Polish jokes,  Irish jokes, jokes about “Orientals,” and homosexual jokes (which showcases the great Stephen Stucker as Bruce “Tushy” Smith), you’ll find a lot to be offended by herein.  For myself, I don’t particularly mind off color humor all that much.  A lot of it doesn’t necessarily give me side stitches, and it’s not the sort of thing I gravitate towards by nature, but if I hear a joke about an Italian, a Rabbi, and a horse walking into a bar (or whatever), I also don’t instantly hit the righteous indignation button.  Still and all, I was more letdown by Cracking Up for the dearth of actually funny material in it than the content of the material that is present.

***The following paragraph contains an old man rant***

The film does point to the rapidly approaching twenty-four hour news cycle which, in my humble opinion, has done terrible damage to journalism in general, and has helped shorten people’s attention spans, has conflated and confused entertainment with reporting more than it already was, and has augmented (my own personal) distrust of the fourth estate for the volume of non-, half-, and disinformation which is regularly doled out as gospel truth (despite any apologies that may come later on, which are always in much quieter voices if they come at all, the damage already having been done and accepted as actuality, never mind pesky things like facts).  Further, the focus on minutiae so popular now emphasizes current over events (with hours of drudgery feeling like televised closed circuit feeds from a parking garage of a mall scheduled to be demolished) and devalues the function of journalism, I believe.  The news is supposed to provide the receiver with facts, not try to sway the receiver toward a point of view or preach to a particular choir (those would be editorializing, which has its own place, but to interchange the title of one for the other only harms both and does a disservice to the public.  End rant.  

Being based ostensibly around television culture and the “if it bleeds, it leads” mentality of news reportage, the film does make some points about the hypocrisy of not only the American media but also of systems of American society (religious, political, et cetera) in a way which is far more biting and insightful (if not necessarily sophisticated and humorous) than we see often today.  Walter claims he’s looking for survivors to interview for the show, but when a bloodied victim approaches him and Barbara, he’s beaten back and kicked aside like a bum.  Most of the dialogue in the news scenes is one-liners (some groan-inducing).  The reporters don’t care about the people involved in this disaster.  They want to get some juicy stories and sell ad time (evinced by the faux commercials interspersed throughout).  Yet, none of it makes any logical sense, since we’re set up to be based in the here and now.  Nevertheless, the stories that people tell invariably cut away to the sketches that we naturally read as flashbacks, which, of course, can’t be filmed by a television crew from someone’s memories, so it breaks the conceit of the film (not that it’s all that strong to start off).  Is this asking too much of a sketch comedy film?  Probably, but I was consistently drawn out of the film by this practice.

Another odd aspect is the various non sequiturs inserted at random moments.  Take, for example, the two naked women who just pop out of a building and go streaking down the street (we’ll see them again with just as much build up and payoff later on).  Or the montages of victims lurching around the rubble, set to the strains of light-pop songs like What Do You Want from Life.  It feels as though sometimes the filmmakers wanted to connect the film in some kind of flow, and sometimes they didn’t, and they really couldn’t be arsed to differentiate between the two approaches (but, hey, it was the Seventies).  It’s like piling your plate at a buffet with everything all at once rather than using separate dishes: the food mingles together, and that can be a good or a bad thing, but you won’t know until you take the next bite.

MVT:  There is an enthusiasm at work underneath the film’s surface.  These guys REALLY want to make you laugh.  You may find that charming, or ingratiating, or both.

Make or Break:  The Polish talk show segment, featuring Lander and Michael McKean (the Lenny of “Lenny and Squiggy” fame) is particularly funny without being especially insulting to the intelligence (unless you get insulted at Polish and Irish jokes).  I mean, it’s no Cheech and Chong, and your enjoyment will depend on your tolerance for ethnic stereotypes, but it worked quite well for me. 

Score:  6/10

Hot Pursuit (1987)

Dan Bartlett (John Cusack) is distracted the entire night before his big chemistry final, resulting in his flunking.  Oh, no!  And here he was all set to go off with his girlfriend Lori Cronenberg (Wendy Gazelle, who spends about half of her screen time doing gymnastics wherever she happens to be [skilled though she is at it], because that’s just what you do, I guess) and her family to the Caribbean.  After his professor has a last minute change of heart, Dan must catch up with his gal, and all sorts of wackiness is supposed to ensue.

Steven Lisberger is most likely far better known as the writer and director of Animalympics (an animated film that was a staple of early HBO programming, and to this day, I vividly recall the scene where a male goat and a lioness fall in love during a marathon set to the strains of super-soft-rock ditty, “With You I Can Run Forever,” for better or worse) and TRON (a film I can appreciate for its technical achievements, but I’ve never found it all that entertaining), and with Hot Pursuit (aka See You Later Mr. Alligator) he tries his hand at light adventure comedy.  This is a generic mingling which can backfire pretty easily, because in order to satisfy both facets, there needs to be both humor and danger, obviously.  The problem lies in the ratio of one to the other and/or the way the two are blended.  For example, Martin Brest’s Midnight Run gets it right, primarily, I think, because it keeps the tension going in both the action and the comedy scenes.  The violence is never over the top, and it fits within the context of the narrative.  Conversely, the danger in films like Hot Pursuit feels like what it is: a device to motivate the adventure portions of the film, and the sight of dead bodies in a film, ostensibly about a puppy love relationship and the nutty lengths to which young love will go, is always jarring to me.  It’s been said that the line between horror and comedy is a fine one, and I agree, and I would further state that films such as this one are proof of just how fine a line it is (while it’s not a horror film in any way, there are those “horrific” elements).  After all of the “zany antics” (and yes, that phrase should be in quotes in regards to this picture) Dan gets into to reach his goal, suddenly he’s running around with grenades and a machine gun, and the villains are considerably bloodthirsty and savage (bolstered by the presence of a very young Ben Stiller, an actor I’ve never been especially at ease watching).   But the filmmakers’ attitude is that they want to have it both ways.  They still want us to consider this as a lark.  I’m not totally sure of what my internal criteria are for what makes this mix work or not work (in the same way that what triggers fright or laughs is very personal), but when it works, it really works, and when it doesn’t, it flops like a fish.  Hot Pursuit is just about a Muskie, in my opinion.    

There is a very sharp divide among the film’s characters along class lines.  Dan is the classic disheveled, working class attendee of an upper class boarding school (we don’t need to be told this explicitly; everything about the character and his introduction practically screams it).  He wears his tie loose, his top shirt button undone, his hair mussed.  Lori’s father (Monte Markham) is affluent and acts the part.  Nothing is too good for his daughter, and Dan will never be good enough.  He also sees Dan as a coward, and this at the very least does play into the eventual macho-fication of Dan.  But even our protagonist has preconceived notions about others in society, and the film does its best to get us to play into these prejudices.  When Dan lands on whatever island he lands on and the only taxi available gets snaked out from under him (with the warning to watch out for “the natives”), he spots Cleon (Paul Bates), Alphonso (Keith David), and Roxanne (Ursaline Bryant) in their rusty jalopy.  After making the (far-fetched) assumption that they work for the marina where Lori is staying, Alphonso invites Dan to come along with them.  Yet, the way he says it, combined with the reaction shots of Cleon, leads us to believe that something nefarious is afoot (never trust someone who smiles all the time, especially when they show you all their teeth).  Likewise, Mac (Robert Loggia) conscripts Dan into being a deckhand on his boat while in pursuit of the ship on which the Cronenbergs are cruising (actually in pursuit of someone on board; guess who).  But where Alphonso and company were all smiles, Mac is all scowls.  Everything about the grizzled old guy is rough, antagonistic, and maniacal.  Nevertheless, both groups have the same sort of attitude toward life and their place in it, as is summed up succinctly by Alphonso with the statement, “We’re not planning it, we’re just doing it.”  Furthermore, both sets of people prove to be better friends to Dan than he could hope for, a tad dubious considering how scant the amount of time they’ve known one another.  Lori’s family is not necessarily evil in contrast, they’re just generally elitist and less desirable to have as amigos.  All of this culminates in the rather facile theme of not judging a book by its cover, which we already knew, but one thing Hollywood has always loved to remind us of is how much we need to be reminded of the basics of life.

Hot Pursuit is an innocuous film in every sense of the word.  It is innocuous in characters, in plotting, in cinematography, in direction.  Everything about the film plays it safe, so the whole never ascends much past the middle ground.  The humor is cutesy and not very funny at all (again, your mileage may vary).  One could call these traits innocent since they’re seemingly ignorant of not only how the world works but how both adventure and comedy (and by extension, adventure-comedies) work.  It’s like eating pretzels without the salt.  Sure, they’re still pretzels (hell, they may even be butter pretzels, which I love), but without the coarse salt they don’t satisfy in the same way, they’re not complete.  This is the sort of film you keep on in the background while you fold your laundry or clean your house.  No real attention needs to be paid, because there is nothing going on that you haven’t seen before, and you’ve likely seen it more entertainingly done, as well (yes, I know I say that a lot, but dammit, it holds true, and if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it).

MVT:  Cusack has his put upon, boyish charm going in full effect, and you can see there’s a reason why he was so popular in the Eighties, even while lamenting that his assets are not thoroughly utilized in this film.

Make or Break:  The scene where Dan confronts Stiller’s Chris is satisfying in that you get to see a prick get his due.  But like so much else herein, it simply doesn’t fit or work especially well enough to be all that memorable.

Score:  5.5/10      

Firewalker (1986)

Letter openers are not what they used to be.  Today when you buy one or are “gifted” one by some benevolent corporate entity or what have you, you get a rounded off piece of plastic with a blade surrounded by more plastic.  For your protection.  Is it safe to use?  You bet, but it’s also damned boring to look at, and it has no sense of adventure to it.  Letter openers used to look like daggers.  The looked like something some magnificent bastard in a tailored suit would brandish at you from behind a three-foot-wide oak desk.  As I was growing up, we had several of these faux death implements around my house, one of which resembled the one discovered in J. Lee Thompson’s Firewalker.  It was curved, had an ornate (yet still chintzy) scabbard, everything but the jewel in the butt of the hilt.  Nobody that I know of was ever hurt by it, but it sure looked like it could do some damage, and it was fun to pretend you were a pirate or somesuch while running around with it.  Was this unsafe for a child to play with like it was a toy?  You bet, but it sure as shit wasn’t boring.

Max Donigan (Chuck Norris) and Leo Porter (Louis Gossett, Jr.) are two pro-am treasure hunters who have apparently never actually found any treasure but have found plenty of trouble.  Following their latest near-death experience, the guys are approached by the lovely Patricia Goodwin (Melody Anderson) to aid her in finding a hoard of Aztec/Mayan gold.  Meanwhile, El Coyote (Sonny Landham) is chasing after the team for the aforementioned sacrificial dagger, and he’s not above using magic to get it.

The Cannon Group produced Firewalker based on two criteria: the popularity of Steven Spielberg and George Lucas’s Indiana Jones movies and the popularity of Norris, one of the studio’s golden goose stars (alongside Charles Bronson).  Like the big budget Paramount pictures, this is an adventure with a sense of humor (whether or not that humor works is entirely up to you; it was pretty flat for me), but it’s also tonally light (despite the sacrificial aspects and an attempted rape) to the point that it threatens to float away if even a mild wind should pass through wherever it is playing.  This is rather against type for Norris who had been a monosyllabic ass-kicker, taking down villains and winning the Vietnam War for America for a long time (and before stuff like Sidekicks and Top Dog).  Unlike the Harrison Ford character (who does stumble into situations bigger than himself quite often but essentially comes from a place of expertise that goes beyond his physical skills/struggles [he is a professor of archaeology after all]; Jones understands the history and meaning behind the artifacts he pursues), Max comes off as simply gormless.  He loves to spin yarns about the escapades he and Leo have gotten into and out of (even one involving Bigfoot; why couldn’t we get that movie?), but they feel capricious more than anything else.  Max (and by extension Leo) don’t have a plan, and they don’t really have any specialized knowledge that distinguishes them as remarkable.  They’re just like two college buddies who become constantly and unwittingly ensconced in wild goings on over an extended weekend of drinking.  Thus, they don’t really stand out as anything other than schlubs (Max’s martial arts skills notwithstanding).

The relationship between Leo and Max is an interesting one.  From the film’s outset, we’re lead to believe two things:  one, that they will be opposites in characterization (like The Odd Couple but in an adventure milieu), and two, that they will be equals.  Neither of these proves true.  Although the men bicker and argue over the situations they are in, I believe it’s fair to say that both got themselves screwed equally, so neither has any leg to stand on with regards to laying the blame at the other one’s feet.  Once they get to relaxing, they are incredibly similar as well.  Both find the same dumb things funny.  Both are more than happy to start and/or end a (obligatory) bar brawl.  Both have no clue what they’re doing and simply luck upon any positive things that happen in their lives.  Aside from having someone to talk to in public, they could easily be the same person.  

To the second point, Max is (unsurprisingly) the focus of the film’s story, and he is the alpha of the duo, so to speak.  Leo is more than content to follow Max around like a dog and do whatever Max wants to do.  He even admits as much to Patricia at one point.  Max gets to save everyone in the film and play the hero.  In fact, not only does he have to rescue Patricia, but he also has to save Leo’s bacon more than once.  Max catches Patricia’s eye right off the bat, and their romance is the only one in the film.  Leo never has a chance with her or any woman in the movie, despite the possibilities for some great scenes inherent in a triangular relationship (which this film doesn’t have).  As it happens, Leo is basically Max’s valet.  Everything he does is to support his white pal/master.   Combined with the portrayals of every other non-white and/or non-American character in the film, it paints a rather clear, mildly racist picture.  For example, the sadistic General (Richard Lee-Sung) is so cliché, he speaks in clichés (“So, gentlemen, we meet again”).  The Native American, Tall Eagle (Will Sampson), who helps the trio out, is the classic old shaman/chieftain who abides by the traditions of his people but has quirky, modern sensibilities (“I don’t know how Tonto did it”).  Central American soldiers drink while on duty and are insane with lust at the sight of a woman.  Intriguingly, Max’s old pal Corky (John Rhys-Davies) is white and a man of some power, but he is also an amalgam of Daniel Dravot and Peachey Carnahan from Rudyard Kipling’s The Man Who Would Be King and Kurtz from Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness (read: basically power hungry and more than slightly insane).  So, he is also an “other” from Max, but he is also what Max could easily become and soon.  That this isn’t explored more fully in the narrative is a failing, but I think it is also beside the point of the story.  However, coming as all of this does from the long tradition of pulp adventure stories, none of it comes off as particularly offensive, particularly when viewed in that light.  That doesn’t automatically make these facets palatable, but it does make them a bit more acceptable for the duration of the movie.

The Blu-ray from Olive Films presents the film in 1.85:1 aspect ratio, and the detail in the image is clear as a bell, accentuating Thompson’s mobile camerawork throughout (though it also needs mentioning that editor Richard Marx [I believe no relation to the singer/songwriter, but you never know] appears to either not know quite how to match many of these shots with one another or was given a jumble of disparate shots without the coverage to adequately tie them together; the world may never know).  The colors in the film are also very nicely displayed on the disc and the two combined make for a darn fine-looking visual package.  The HD 2.0 audio does an acceptable job mixing the dialogue, effects, and score (though the dialogue is less prominent than other elements on rare occasions, just not enough to ruin anything, and you’re likely not watching Firewalker for its dialogue, regardless.  The disc has no special features.     

MVT:  Despite the issues with their onscreen relationship, Norris and Gossett do have charm, and the pair have a certain chemistry together that works well enough for them.

Make or Break:  There’s a scene near the end that actually has some nice, tense action, and it involves one of my favorite action/adventure sights: people hanging over some perilous abyss/deathtrap/firestorm/anything.  So there’s that.

Score:  6.25/10