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Showing posts with label joseph bologna. Show all posts
Showing posts with label joseph bologna. Show all posts

Friday, November 13, 2015

Lovers and Other Strangers (1970)



          A significant commercial and critical hit back in the day, the ensemble dramedy Lovers and Other Strangers mixes keen observations about marriage with hit-or-miss sex-comedy vignettes. Based on a play by Joseph Bologna and Renée Taylor, the movie concerns the wedding of a young couple and how the event impacts the couple’s friends and relatives. On a deeper level, the story is an exploration of changing values during the Women’s Liberation era. Does marriage mean anything during a time when young people embrace premarital cohabitation? Is the old notion of accepting contentment in marriage passé for kids who expect to sustain passion forever? And how can young women protect themselves from predatory men who use with-it lingo to pressure women into sex? These were important questions in 1970, so even though time has dulled the edge off Lovers and Other Strangers, the picture is still interesting as a snapshot of a turbulent period. Additionally, some of the characters are rendered so well that they’re timeless.
          The youngsters preparing to marry are Mike (Michael Brandon) and Susan (Bonnie Bedelia). He’s terrified of commitment even though he and Susan have lived together for some time, and he’s nervous that his old-fashioned Italian parents will find out he’s “living in sin.” The engaged couple’s anxieties are juxtaposed with problems plaguing new marriages, troubles faced by single people, and the wisdom of people who have been married for decades. One of the imperiled new marriages is between Susan’s sister, Wilma (Anne Meara), and Johnny (Harry Guardino)—she tries to keep the sexual spark alive while he resents her rejection of the idea that being male entitles Johnny to unconditional dominance. The other endangered new union is between Mike’s brother, Richie (Joseph Hindy), and Joan (Diane Keaton, in her first movie role), who have scandalized the family by announcing plans to divorce. Representing the singles scene is Susan’s friend Brenda (Marian Hailey), who runs hot and cold with fast-talking horndog Jerry (Bob Dishy). There’s also a subplot about Susan’s father, Hal (Gig Young), having an affair with his sister-in-law, Kathy (Anne Jackson). Rounding out the principal cast are Mike’s parents, Frank (Richard Castellano) and Bea (Beatrice Arthur).
          Some threads of the story have more punch than others. The stuff with Bea and Frank is terrific because veteran stage actors Arthur and Castellano give pitch-perfect comic performances; Castellano earned an Oscar nomination for his work, and Lovers and Other Strangers helped pave the way for Arthur’s conquest of television a few years later. The Brenda/Jerry storyline gets old quickly because Brenda is depicted as a mess of catch phrases and neuroses, while Jerry is portrayed as nothing but a compendium of come-on lines. Similarly, the Hal/Kathy storyline is mostly a vehicle for Hal contriving ways to string Kathy along while Kathy endures humiliating treatment because the alternative of being alone is too dismaying. Whereas those two subplots feel shallow and trite, the Johnny/Wilma storyline pays off nicely when the couple embraces compromise.
          Lovers and Other Strangers gives viewers a lot to digest, but despite some honest insights and zippy one-liners, the movie never achieves real depth or hilarity. Although the film is thoroughly respectable, the writers (including David Zelag Goodman, who helped adapt the play) employ comedy as a means of dancing around tough issues. Nonetheless, the mere fact that Lovers and Other Strangers engages with serious topics places the movie a few notches above the average bedroom farce, and the presence of consistently good acting raises the movie’s quality even higher.

Lovers and Other Strangers: GROOVY

Saturday, March 1, 2014

Mixed Company (1974)



Despite heavy-handed storytelling and sketchy production values, Mixed Company offers just enough heart and humor to merit a casual viewing by forgiving viewers, because the picture serves an admirable theme of racial tolerance. Although co-writer/director Melville Shavelson’s storyline represents Hollywood white-guilt liberalism in its most primitive form—a bigot overcomes prejudice upon meeting three loveable orphans of various races—Shavelson is such an old pro at one-liners that quips make the bleeding-heart speechifying palatable. Joseph Bologna stars as Pete Morrison, the short-tempered coach of the Phoenix Suns basketball team, and Barbara Harris plays his wife, Kathy. Pete’s preoccupied with his job, thanks to friction with a diva star player and a persistent losing streak, so Kathy does charity work that makes her conscious of problems faced by nonwhite orphans. Thus, Kathy adopts an African-American boy named Freddie (Haywood Nelson), even though she and Pete have three kids of their own. Freddie’s arrival cues all sorts of racial tension in the Morrison household, much of it stemming from Freddie’s expectation of prejudice. Shavelson hits some interesting notes, including a trope of people practicing reverse discrimination by cutting Freddie too much slack academically, but nothing that happens is surprising. Later, when Kathy expands her brood to include a Hopi Indian boy, Joe (Stephen Honanie), and a Vietnamese girl, Quan (Jina Tan), Shavelson slips into the mildly enjoyable group dynamics he employed for such previous films as The Seven Little Foys (1955) and Yours, Mine and Ours (1968). While it’s all a quite old-fashioned, Bologna’s brash Noo Yawk attitude lends much-needed tension, and his character’s frustration about an out-of-control household feel credible. Harris is less effective, coming across as eccentric and spacey even though her character is supposed to be the voice of level-headed humanism. As for the child actors, they’re more cute than talented, though Nelson exhibits spunk. Mixed Company suffers for an insufficient budget, with Shavelson relying on stock footage for scenes of Suns games, and the movie generally looks rushed and ugly. Still, it’s hard to question the fundamental value of any picture that aims to simultaneously edify and entertain.

Mixed Company: FUNKY

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Chapter Two (1978)



          James Caan might not seem the most likely candidate to star in a romantic comedy powered by wall-to-wall dialogue, but he does just fine in Chapter Two, which superstar writer Neil Simon adapted from his own play about a widower struggling to rebuild his life with a new romantic partner. The picture shares many similarities with the Simon-penned blockbuster The Goodbye Girl (1977), the success of which the makers of Chapter Two undoubtedly hoped to emulate. Like The Goodbye Girl, this movie depicts grown-ups bickering their way through a relationship fraught with unusual challenges, and like The Goodbye Girl, it stars Marsha Mason as a frazzled modern woman trying to balance her desire for a satisfying professional life with her urge to settle into a traditional marriage. It’s when the similarities between the films end that Chapter Two runs into problems.
          Chapter Two cannot match the previous movie’s brevity or complexity, because Chapter Two extends unnecessarily past the two-hour mark and lacks a truly memorable supporting character like The Goodbye Girl’s wise-beyond-her-years kid. More problematically, Chapter Two is bereft of the previous film’s brilliance—The Goodbye Girl represents Simon’s dialogue and storytelling at its best, whereas Chapter Two is merely commendable. As always, however, Simon’s jokes are his saving grace, because even when Chapter Two gets stuck in dull, plot-oriented sequences, the dialogue is brightly entertaining. As for the overall narrative of Chapter Two, it is exceedingly simple. After writer George Schneider (Caan) loses his wife, George’s horndog brother, Leo (Joseph Bologna), arranges a date for George with Jennie MacLaine (Mason), who is friends with Leo’s friend Faye Medwick (Valerie Harper). Then, while George and Jennie fall into a too-fast romance, the married Leo begins an affair with the neurotic Faye.
          Complications, as the saying goes, ensue.
          The main thrust of Chapter Two is George’s grief, and the difficulty he encounters putting aside the memory of his late wife so he can embrace a future with Jennie. Simon handles this material well, though his script could have used some trimming, and Caan enlivens the movie by juxtaposing darker colors with lighthearted banter. Mason is very good, as well, though her character has a bit of a one-note quality; she’s the endlessly patient woman who waits for a good man to conquer his demons. Still, this is slickly executed grown-up entertainment—one must check the credits to confirm that it was Robert Morse, not Goodbye Girl helmer Herbert Ross, who directed the picture—so it’s a watchable movie even if it’s also an unmemorable one. (Available through Columbia Screen Classics via WarnerArchive.com)

Chapter Two: FUNKY

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Honor Thy Father (1973)


Like its infinitely superior big-screen counterpart The Godfather, the Mafia-themed potboiler Honor Thy Father was based on a bestselling book. Yet while Mario Puzo’s tale of the Corleone family was pure fiction, the Gay Talese tome that provided the basis for this TV movie was a true-life account of a real crime clan. Talese, a former magazine writer, spent seven years interviewing members of the Bonanno mob about their nasty turf war with other crime families. Thanks to his incredible access, Talese crafted an acclaimed narrative depicting how second-generation crook Salvator Bonnano was drawn into the family business when his father, crime lord Joseph Bonnano, was kidnapped by competitors. (In a play on the family name, the feud became known as “The War of the Bananas.”) Predictably, Talese’s reportage gets homogenized in this competent but unspectacular adaptation. However, one particular focus of Talese’s book—the monotony of downtime between outbursts of violence—comes through clearly, as does the emotional strain on the wives of made men. Beyond these nuances, there’s nothing in Honor Thy Father that crime-movie fans haven’t seen a hundred times before, and the acting is not strong enough to surmount the generic nature of the piece. As Salvatore, Joseph Bologna borders on self-parody with his twitchy version of volatility—his trope of screaming during big moments gets particularly tiresome. And as the godfather of this tale, suave Italian star Raf Vallone cuts a great figure but struggles with delivering dense dialogue in his thick accent. Playing Salvatore’s wife, Brenda Vaccarro gives the picture’s best performance, though her characterization as a long-suffering spouse is a cliché. Character actor Richard S. Castellano’s presence cements this picture’s Godfather association; the man who delivered the immortal Godfather line “Leave the gun, take the cannoli” plays Salvator’s stalwart right-hand man in Honor Thy Father.

Honor Thy Father: FUNKY

Friday, November 11, 2011

Cops and Robbers (1973)


          A lighthearted crime thriller unwisely marketed as an out-and-out comedy, Cops and Robbers features a clever plot, flavorful ’70s atmosphere, and exuberant performances by a pair of actors not customarily cast as leads. The movie has significant tonal inconsistencies, and (like all heist movies) raises the question of why we should care about people who steal, but it’s so brisk and watchable that it’s worth investigating. Joe (Joseph Bologna) is a New York City beat cop exasperated by his inability to get ahead financially. So, one evening, he walks into a liquor store in full uniform and robs the place. Afterward, Joe tells his plainclothes-detective buddy Tom (Cliff Gorman) how easy it is to exploit the power of the badge. Determined to stage a major heist so he and Joe can retire into luxury, Tom approaches mid-level mobster Pasquale Aniello (John P. Ryan) for advice. Amazed at the policeman’s hubris, Aniello says that if Tom and his partner steal $10 million in bearer bonds from Wall Street, he’ll pay the cops-turned-crooks a cool $2 million.
          Written by crime novelist Donald E. Westlake, Cops and Robbers scores on two levels. The central crime is just weird enough to jibe with reality, and the straightforward motivation of the lead characters speaks to universal frustrations with the slow pace of making an honest buck—even though it’s hard to actually like Joe and Tom, since they flagrantly violate the public trust, it’s easy to see what pushes them toward criminality. Westlake also does a clever job of illustrating that everyone in the system is ripping off everyone else (brokers are robbing from brokers, crooks are robbing from crooks), creating the illusion of a victimless crime. In that context, the fun of the movie is watching Joe and Tom work out the particulars of their crime, even as a hundred things go wrong on the big day. The heist scene is meticulously paced and staged, with all sorts of nerve-jangling complications, and the offbeat climax takes place in Central Park on “Bicycle Day.”
          Editor-turned-director Aram Avakian predictably does best in action scenes, when he’s able to shape varied footage into taut vignettes, though he doesn’t quite succeed in coaxing his actors toward matching the jaunty tone of the script. As a result, Cops and Robbers is a bit too serious for its own good, which is compounded by a downbeat score featuring the frequently repeated R&B theme song “A World of Cops and Robbers.” It also feels like a couple of dramatic beats are missing, with characters making confusing leaps forward, and Bologna and Gorman, though both very skilled at expressing their characters’ frustrations, aren’t exactly the most charismatic performers. Nonetheless, more goes right than wrong in Cops and Robbers, and the cast features a slew of interesting Noo Yawk supporting players, like Joe Spinell and Dolph Sweet.

Cops and Robbers: GROOVY

Monday, October 24, 2011

Made for Each Other (1971)


Actors Joseph Bologna and Renée Taylor have been married in real life since the mid-’60s, and they’ve written and performed a number of lighthearted projects together for film, television, and theater. One of their earliest endeavors was this low-budget romantic comedy about a pair of neurotic New Yorkers who meet in an encounter group, embark on a whirlwind romance, and bicker their way to the realization that they love each other. The premise is fine, and the offscreen history that Bologna and Taylor share lets them get totally comfortable with each other onscreen; their interplay feels credible and spontaneous from start to finish. Unfortunately, the characters that Bologna and Taylor wrote for themselves are unrelentingly shrill. Gig (Bologna) is a nasty blowhard who perceives himself as a world-class stud, while Pandora (Taylor) is a lunatic who fancies herself a cabaret performer even though she can’t dance, sing, or tell jokes. To the duo’s credit, Bologna and Taylor don’t take the obvious route of showing these misfits supporting each other until their crazy ol’ dreams come true. However, in eschewing predictability and cheap sentiment, the writer-stars overcompensate by showing their characters berating each other so incessantly that it’s hard to see what they enjoy about each other. It’s true that Gig and Pandora would be intolerable to anyone except fellow basket cases, but still, where’s the fun in watching overbearing narcissists realize they’re stuck with each other? If Bologna and Taylor had some sort of satirical intent in mind, perhaps skewering the extremes of Me Decade self-centeredness, it’s not evident amid the screeching arguments and suffocating self-loathing. FYI, Olympia Dukakis and Paul Sorvino show up in supporting roles as Gig’s loutish parents.

Made for Each Other: LAME