Where’s Poppa? (1970)

          With its barrage of surrealistic plot developments and tasteless jokes, Where’s Poppa? would be a weird movie under any circumstances—yet it’s doubly strange when viewed as part of its director’s overall career. Carl Reiner, one of the most likable comedians America has ever produced, is best known for gentle humor of the family-friendly variety, since his professional highlights include creating the beloved ’60s sitcom The Dick Van Dyke Show and helming such inoffensive comedy features as Oh, God! (1977) and All of Me (1984). Excepting this bizarre movie, the most offensive thing Reiner ever made was probably the Steve Martin vehicle The Jerk (1979), which is incredibly tame by comparison with Where’s Poppa?

          Adapted by Robert Klane from his own novel, Where’s Poppa? depicts the travails of New York attorney Gordon Hocheiser (George Segal), who lives with his senile mother, Mrs. Hocheiser (Ruth Gordon), in a cramped apartment. Momma’s a dottering nut who keeps asking “Where’s Poppa?” because she can’t grasp the fact that her husband is dead, and she smothers Gordon with constant nagging and with inappropriately physical affection. Over the course of the movie, Gordon faces three predicaments: 1) He wants to dump Momma in a nursing home but can’t break a deathbed promise to his father that obligates him to care for his insufferable mother; 2) He wants to marry Louise (Trish Van Devere), the pretty nurse he just hired to care for Momma, but there’s no way the three of them can live together; and 3) Gordon’s high-strung brother, Sidney (Ron Leibman) keeps getting into trouble.

          The tone of Where’s Poppa? is all over the place, so it’s hard to know when the movie is going for absurdist humor, black comedy, nasty satire, or surrealistic farce. One scene might involve a gentle joke like Momma using cola in her cereal instead of milk, and the next scene might involve Sidney committing rape in Central Park while wearing a gorilla suit. Yes, you read that right—the “comedy” centerpiece of the movie is a rape scene, which is as gruesomely unfunny as it sounds. So, too, is the icky sequence in which Momma yanks down Gordon’s pants and chews on his ass while a shocked Louise watches. Underlying all of this is the distasteful central premise: The “hero” of the story wants to break a blood oath and dump his mentally ill mother so he can get laid.

          Segal does what he can, providing a few almost-amusing moments of exasperation, but his character is so ugly it’s hard to find anything Segal does funny. Similarly, Gordon drops the crazy-like-a-fox bit that distinguished most of her late-career roles and hits the same note of annoying senility again and again; her characterization is alternately boring and pathetic, neither of which is much fun to watch. Leibman’s performance is grotesque, and Van Devere seems lost amid the repulsive situations. Where’s Poppa? has a minor cult following, so clearly some people find the picture amusing, and it’s worth noting that a handful of familiar actors—Vincent Gardenia, Barnard Hughes, Garrett Morris, Rob Reiner, Paul Sorvino—make appearances. Yet it’s telling that after making this picture, Carl Reiner mostly left the realm of bad-taste humor behind, gravitating toward stories that reflect the sweetness one associates with his persona.

Where’s Poppa?: FREAKY

Born to Win (1971)

It’s impossible to completely dismiss Born to Win, a would-be comedy about heroin addiction, even though the film is a disaster from a tonal perspective and not especially satisfying from a narrative perspective, because the film’s saving graces include gritty performances by several actors and a great sense of place. So, while Born to Win is laughable compared to the same year’s The Panic in Needle Park, a truly harrowing take on the same subject matter, Born to Win isn’t an outright dud. George Segal stars as J, a former hairdresser who has fallen into petty crime as a means of supporting his habit. Over the course of the story, J embarks on a new romance with Parm (Karen Black), a rich girl with a taste for dangerous adventure, and he gets into a complicated hassle with his dealer, Vivian (Hector Elizondo). The romantic stuff with Parm defies logic right from the beginning—Parm discovers J trying to steal her car, but instead of calling the police, she takes him to bed. Huh? The drug-culture material is more believable, especially when two cops (one of whom is played by a young Robert De Niro) coerce J into helping them entrap Vivian. In general, the seedier the scene in question, the more watchable Born to Win becomes. For instance, one of the best sequences involves J sweet-talking a mobster’s wife by pretending he wants sex, when in fact he’s simply trying to enter the mobster’s apartment for purposes of robbery. Segal’s not the right actor for this story—he’s too charming and urbane—but it’s interesting to imagine the circumstances by which a character fitting Segal’s persona might have fallen into such desperation. Had Born to Win focused on J’s descent (and had the filmmakers not opted for such a glib treatment of addiction), the picture could have had impact. Alas, director/co-writer Ivan Passer fumbles, badly, by attempting to merge black comedy with inner-city tragedy, and his undisciplined storytelling is exacerbated by a truly horrible music score. Predictably, De Niro (whose role is inconsequential) and Elizondo fare best in this milieu, while Black and costar Paul Prentiss barely register. Yet the real star of the movie, if only by default, is New York City, with the dirty streets of Manhattan amplifying the film’s implied theme of lost souls getting chewed up by an unforgiving universe.

Born to Win: FUNKY

The Hot Rock (1972)

          Lightweight and never quite as laugh-out-loud funny as it should be, The Hot Rock is nonetheless a fun caper flick featuring one of Robert Redford’s most effortlessly charming performances. The movie also boasts a thoroughly entertaining screenplay by William Goldman, the wiseass wordsmith who penned Redford’s breakout movie, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969). In fact, Goldman and Redford clicked so well whenever they collaborated, it’s a shame their friendship dissipated after behind-the-scenes strife during the development of All the President’s Men (1976). Anyway, The Hot Rock was adapted from a novel by Donald E. Westlake, whose special gift is creating likeable crooks and outlandish plots. The Hot Rock begins with career thief John Dortmunder (Redford) getting released from his latest stint in prison—although he’s a talented robber, he has a bad habit of getting caught. Dortmunder is picked up, after a fashion, by his brother-in-law, Kelp (George Segal)—Kelp stole a car he doesn’t know how to drive, so he nearly runs Dortmunder over.

          And so it goes from there: Dortmunder’s life becomes a comedy routine of incompetent criminality once he agrees to pull a job with the amiable but unreliable Kelp. The duo are hired by Dr. Amusa (Moses Gunn), the U.N. ambassador of a small African nation, to steal a gigantic diamond, but each attempt at nabbing the prize ends up a pathetic failure. Over the course of several weeks, Dortmunder and Kelp try stealing the diamond from a bank, a museum, a police station, and a prison, abetted by neurotic explosives expert Greenberg (Paul Sand) and reckless getaway driver Murch (Ron Leibman).

          Goldman and versatile British director Peter Yates keep things moving along smoothly, balancing jokes and tension during elaborate heist scenes, so while The Hot Rock never explodes into raucous chaos, it sustains a solid energy level from start to finish. Yates shoots locations beautifully, capturing a vivid sense of Manhattan as an urban playground for the film’s gang of chummy nincompoops, and the acting is lively across the board. Redford plays everything so straight that he grounds the film’s comedy in emotional reality (while still cutting a dashing figure), and Leibman and Segal complement his work with motor-mouthed hyperactivity. Sand contributes a quieter vibe of sedate weirdness, and Gunn incarnates exasperation with great poise. Overbearing funnyman Zero Mostel pops up for a featured role about halfway through the picture, but luckily he’s only onscreen for short bursts, so he doesn’t wear out his welcome.

The Hot Rock: GROOVY

Fun With Dick and Jane (1977)

Any film whose title describes the reaction the film hopes to elicit is asking for trouble—so the fact that Fun With Dick and Jake isn’t all that fun to watch makes its title seem like false advertising. Comedy of the lightest possible sort, the picture is coherent and smooth, so it’s not a complete misfire. However, it’s executed with such mindless superficiality that it’s more like Passing Time Painlessly With Dick and Jane. Ostensibly a satire of out-of-control materialism, the story revolves around aeronautics executive Dick Harper (George Segal) and his stay-at-home wife, Jane (Jane Fonda). When Dick gets fired as part of a company-wide downsizing, the Harpers realize how tenuous their financial life has become—for instance, during what should be one of the movie’s funniest bits (but isn’t), landscapers repossess the Harpers’ lawn for nonpayment of bills. Dick’s attempts to maintain his family’s lifestyle go badly, because he gets caught working while collecting unemployment, and he misrepresents himself to a potential new employer. Finally, after a supposedly farcical run-in with crooks, Dick gets the idea to become a hold-up man, and Jane insists on tagging along, so they become an upscale Bonnie and Clyde. Segal showcases his usual rascally charm, and Fonda tries (unsuccessfully) to infuse her underwritten role with empowered-woman sass, but the actors cannot surmount an uninspired script and fundamentally unsympathetic characters: The plot is lumpy and mechanical, and the Harpers are rotten people who feel entitled to a luxurious standard of living. Had a true satirist like, say, Larry Gelbart or Paul Mazursky tackled this storyline, the script would certainly have climaxed with some episode of edifying introspection; instead, this shallow romp asks viewers to perceive the Harpers as admirable strivers, thus short-circuiting any potential for social commentary. Oh, and the film’s largest supporting role is played by onetime Tonight Showsidekick Ed McMahon, which should give an idea of the level of artistic ambition on display here. FYI, the 2005 remake with Jim Carrey and Tea Leoni is just as middling as the original picture.

Fun With Dick and Jane: FUNKY

Loving (1970)

          The misguided dramedy Lovingrevolves around Brooks Wilson (George Segal), a successful commercial artist married to a beautiful and devoted woman, Selma (Eva Marie Saint). He has two bright, confident daughters; he lives in a handsome house just outside New York City; and he’s poised to land a major account that will allow his family to relocate to a dream home. Nonetheless, Brooks is deeply unhappy. Selma isn’t enough for his sexual appetites, so he’s sleeping with the wife of one friend, and the college-aged daughter of another. Plus, he doesn’t like taking orders anymore, so he resents doing work that satisfies clients instead of simply following his own artistic instincts. In other words, Brooks is a selfish prick. And yet for the 89 minutes of Loving, producer/co-writer Don Devlin—adapting a novel by J.M. Ryan—expects us to find Brooks’ behavior interesting. It isn’t. Whenever Brooks wanders around through soulful montages, acting upset that women have their own minds or that clients don’t hand him money for doing whatever he wants, it’s impossible to sympathize with the character. Accordingly, the only qualities that make Loving endurable are the acting and the technical execution.

          Segal is good, inasmuch as he presents Brooks’ awful personality clearly and without judgment, and Saint has some fine moments of quiet suffering. Supporting players David Doyle, Sterling Hayden, and Keenan Wynn contribute expert work in small parts, and future super-producer Sherry Lansing (Fatal Attraction) is eye-catching in one of her only acting roles, as an inebriated sexpot. (Roy Scheider, right at the beginning of his film career, turns up briefly, as well.) Versatile director Irvin Kershner, who was never any better or worse than his material, employs an appropriately observational storytelling style. The film’s most important contributor, however, is revered cinematographer Gordon Willis, who made this picture just before hitting the A-list with films including Klute (1971) and The Godfather (1972). Using his signature deep shadows and painterly framing, Willis makes Loving seem more sophisticated than it actually is by adding textures of meaning and nuance. Willis occasionally overreaches (during scenes in which actors walk through real locations, bystanders stare at the camera, breaking the desired verité illusion), but Willis’ moodiest scenes are masterfully photographed.

Loving: FUNKY

Rollercoaster (1977)

          Pure escapism, Rollercoastercombines many styles of pulpy entertainment that thrived in the ’70s: It’s a disaster movie, a police procedural, a terrorism thriller, and a theme-park romp all rolled into one. So, while it might be exaggerating to call Rollercoaster a good movie, it’s a lot of fun to watch. The movie begins when a psycho identified only as “Young Man” (Timothy Bottoms) begins a killing spree by blowing up the tracks on a rollercoaster in Virginia. Ride investigator Harry Calder (George Segal) arrives to survey the damage, suspecting foul play instead of a simple accident. Soon, the Young Man strikes again and issues a demand for $1 million to prevent further attacks. Although hard-nosed FBI Agent Hoyt (Richard Widmark) is placed in charge of the investigation, Harry insists on remaining involved, which turns out to be a bad mistake, since the Young Man identifies Calder as his preferred courier for ransom payments.

          Thus begins an enjoyably silly cat-and-mouse game that climaxes with a showdown at the Magic Mountain theme park near Los Angeles (which fans of ’70s kitsch know and love as the setting for the TV movie Kiss Meets the Phantom of the Park). Plus, as happens in these sorts of contrived cinematic situations, Calder’s teenaged daughter (Helen Hunt) gets caught up in the danger, so catching the crook becomes a personal matter for Our Hero. Although Rollercoaster is padded with a few tiresome sequences, like an extended concert by the New Wave band Sparks and lengthy point-of-view rollercoaster shots designed to showcase the “Sensurround” format in which the picture was released, the bulk of the movie is suspenseful and zippy.

          Segal’s dry humor fits the thriller genre well, offering a sly wink at the audience whenever the plot gets too preposterous, and the idea of a madman hiding amid the huge crowds at an amusement park is consistently unsettling. (Casting the boyish Bottoms was a clever choice that adds to the queasiness.) Justifying the disaster-movie element of its cinematic DNA, Rollercoasterdelivers several harrowing highlights, though the flick never slips into gory excess. After all, producer Jennings Lang was an ace at the disaster genre, having made 1974’s Earthquake and most of the Airport movies. Widmark and fellow supporting player Henry Fonda ground the movie with their familiar personas, and it’s a kick to see future Oscar winner Hunt at the apex of her child-acting career. All in all, Rollercoaster is a tasty trifle with the added benefit of capturing vintage theme-park scenes that will make any former ’70s kid nostalgic for simpler times.

Rollercoaster: GROOVY

The Duchess and the Dirtwater Fox (1976)

          A spectacularly unfunny comedy made by a group of people who should have known better, The Duchess and the Dirtwater Foxfeatures the promising onscreen combination of Goldie Hawn and George Segal. Despite working so hard to elicit laughter that they sometimes seem close to collapsing from exhaustion, the stars cannot compensate for an uninspired storyline and a litany of wheezy jokes.

          Hawn plays Amanda Quaid, a prostitute/showgirl eking out an unsatisfactory living in Old West-era San Francisco. Segal plays Charlie Malloy, an arrogant gambler who recently absconded with $40,000 from a group of gun-toting robbers. When their paths cross, Amanda seduces Charlie and steals the valise in which he’s hidden his cash, so an adventure ensues with various interested parties chasing after Amanda, Charlie, and the stolen loot. The tiresome plot also involves Amanda’s attempts to masquerade as an English duchess so she can secure the job of caretaker to a wealthy Mormon’s numerous children.

          Among the film’s myriad problems is the fact that neither protagonist is remotely likeable. Amanda is foul-tempered and Charlie is smug, so the idea that we’re supposed to care about these characters falling in love is dubious. Furthermore, neither character is sufficiently clever to make his or her misdeeds interesting. In a typically witless scene, Amanda and Charlie speak in pidgin code mixing French, Italian, and Yiddish so they can avoid the prying ears of the nearby Mormon whom they refer to as “El Schmucko.” Oy!

          The scenes in which Amanda performs barroom tunes are especially grating, since Hawn sings in a crass Cockney accent, and the various chases and shootouts are painfully dull. About the only watchable bit is the long passage during which Amanda and Charlie get stranded in the wilderness, because that sequence relies entirely on the stars’ considerable charm. To its meager credit, the movie looks great, with handsome photography by Owen Roizman, and the costuming and production design are lush. But director/producer/co-writer Melvin Frank, who began his film career writing gags for Bob Hope in the ’40s, was clearly out of ideas, so The Duchess & the Dirtwater Fox is a vacuous wasteland.

The Duchess and the Dirtwater Fox: LAME

The Owl and the Pussycat (1970)

          Overwritten and shrill, to say nothing of ferociously demeaning to women, The Owl and the Pussycat is a weird relic of the sexual revolution—the movie’s preoccupation with libidinous urges recalls a historical moment during which horniness was conflated in the public conversation with progressive thinking. To say this so-called comedy hasn’t aged well is an understatement, and in fact were it not for the presence of a certain superstar in the leading female role, chances are The Owl and the Pussycat would have long ago disappeared from mainstream exhibition. Yet there Barbra Streisand is, at the apex of her post-Funny Girl popularity, spewing one-liners and wearing sexy outfits while playing a prostitute who falls into an unlikely romance with a struggling author.

          Based on a play by Bill Manhoff—and overhauled significantly by screenwriter Buck Henry—the story begins when uptight writer Felix (George Segal) notices an attractive young woman in the window of an apartment within his complex. When he realizes she’s turning tricks in her pad, Felix reports the woman to their mutual landlord. A short time later, the woman, whose name is Doris (Streisand), shows up at Felix’s doorstep demanding a place to crash since his tattling got her evicted. Most of the movie takes place during this duo’s first night together: Doris berates Felix for his stuffiness while Felix begs her to stop talking so he can sleep. Felix also tries to pretend he’s not aroused, even though Doris struts around in a peekaboo costume complete with embroidered hands decorating the cups of her brassiere.

          Some of the movie’s banter is clever, like a running gag of Felix baffling Doris with polysyllables, but Doris is so obnoxious it’s hard to see any attraction past the physical. Similarly, Felix is a judgmental prick who lies about his literary achievements and avoids mentioning his engagement to another woman. These are awful people, so only the charm of the performers makes them remotely palatable. Director Herbert Ross does a fine job of keeping things lively through movement and pacing, and he ensures that Streisand looks as alluring as possible. In fact, even though the movie supposedly presents Streisand as a strong-willed individual, Ross’ camera never misses an opportunity to ogle her curves. Furthermore, the picture’s ending finds Doris begging for a louse’s approval. There’s a smidgen of wit here and there, and both the acting and filmmaking are strong given the limitations of the material, but the misogyny on display throughout The Owl and the Pussycat is consistently unpleasant—so proceed with caution.

The Owl and the Pussycat: FUNKY