I like to watch movies. I like to watch movies with my wife and I like to watch movies alone. Sometimes, I have to do both of those because I don't always share the same tastes in movies with my wife. Recently, I have watched a few recent releases that — in a million years — Mrs. Pincus would not have sat through. One was a fairly graphic horror movie. I know from past experience that Mrs. P has little tolerance for horror movies. I still remember her watching Creepshow through fingers protectively threaded across her eyes and asking how much longer will this go on. The recent movie I watched would have had her exiting the room after the opening scene. I watched another recent release that would not have held her interest at all. It was a very slow build-up until the story started to come together. So, I have — more or less — become the official movie screener for the Pincus household. I will chose a movie for the two of us to watch, based on whether or not Mrs. P will like it. I will happily admit that I'm not always right.
Recently, I suggested a made-for-television movie called
A Carol for Another Christmas. It was originally broadcast in 1964 on ABC. It was only shown once until it resurfaced a few years ago on the Turner Classic Movies network. I thought it was a good choice for us to watch. It was written by Rod Serling and Mrs. P is a long time fan of Twilight Zone. It featured well-known actors like Sterling Hayden, Ben Gazzara, Eve Marie Saint, Peter Sellers, Robert Shaw and Pat Hingle. So, we settled in to watch. It turned out to be a long-winded, smack-you-over-the-head, message-filled piece of anti-nuclear propaganda that was produced, in part, by the United Nations. It was a tedious, repetitive, preachy, self-righteous 84-minutes that seemed twice as long. As we watched, I could sense that Mrs. P was getting "antsy." Fifteen minutes in, her full attention was given to her cellphone. That evening's entertainment choice was a bust on my part. I vowed to be more discerning in future suggestions.
Last night, we interrupted our usual evening's viewing of cartoons (our cable provider recently began carrying MeTV Toons, a 24-hour network devoted to the cartoons of our youth) to watch a movie. I selected a movie that I remember watching years ago. I asked my wife if she had ever seen it. She was unsure. So, we watched.
The movie in question was a 1968 theatrical release called
The Night They Raided Minsky's. It was an early production from the pre-
All in the Family partnership of Norman Lear and Bud Yorkin. The film had a very interesting and chaotic journey to the big screen, even before a film frame of celluloid was shot. It was based on a 1960 novel about the bygone days of burlesque in New York City. Tony Curtis was originally cast in the lead, but friction over the script caused him to walk. A young Alan Alda was considered as a replacement, but he was locked into a role on Broadway. Jason Robards was tagged just a few weeks before shooting was to begin. Mickey Rooney, then Joel Grey, were pursued for the second lead, but other bookings prevented them from taking the role. British comedian Norman Wisdom was cast despite being relatively unknown to American audiences. Joey Faye, Eddie Lawrence, Dexter Maitland and Bert Lahr — all former burlesque performers — rounded out the cast. Lahr, however, was practically on his deathbed, have been diagnosed with terminal cancer just prior to production. The cast was supplemented by solid performances from Denholm Elliot, Joseph Wiseman, Harry Andrews, Forrest Tucker and Elliot Gould in his motion picture debut. At the forefront was the adorably waif-like Britt Ekland as the object of everyone's affection. William Friedkin, fresh off his directorial debut at the helm of Sonny & Cher's 1967 hippie indulgence
Good Times (and several years away from
The French Connection and
The Exorcist) was tapped to direct. Friedkin, who shot forty hours of footage for the project, had a vision for the final product that differed from Lear's, Yorkin's and the "powers that be" at United Artists. After working — unsuccessfully — with respected film editor Ralph Rosenblum, Friedkin moved on to another project. He called
The Night They Raided Minsky's "the biggest piece of crap he was ever involved with." Rosenblum took a full year to recut and reimagine the movie with no input from the director. He introduced period stock footage. He reshot some scenes with a body double substituting for Bert Lahr, who had died during production. Rosenblum's version — which Friedkin had nothing to do with — was released to surprisingly positive reviews. It boasted the biggest budget for a film shot in New York City at the time. Its paper-thin plot, continuity errors and seedy look are all forgivable, as
The Night They Raided Minsky's offered a frozen snapshot of a bygone and nearly forgotten period of entertainment history. The film — a complete work of fiction — was a love letter to the bawdy side of vaudeville and — according to the opening narration — the origin of the strip tease.
Mrs. P and I watched
The Night They Raided Minsky's. It was uneven. It was creepy. It was funny. It was enjoyable. The cast was stellar, if somewhat slightly above the sitcom-level script. The full-length classic burlesque skits that were showcased was like watching a documentary, sometimes overshadowing the main plot of the movie...
whatever it was. There was a love triangle of sorts. There was a shifty plot to humiliate a staunch moral advocate. There was an overbearing gangster. There was an angry Amish patriarch searching for his wayward daughter. There was a lot going on and sometimes the story was interrupted for the sake of a barrage of risque jokes. Despite the spot-on performances from Norman Wisdom, Joseph Wiseman, Jason Robards and Britt Ekland, the
true stars of
The Night They Raided Minsky's were the ladies who formed the disinterested, going-through-the-motions chorus of the burlesque stage. Everything came to a head in a very raucous climax and a very sit-com-y ending.
Ninety-eight minutes later, Mrs. P and I were entertained. And I don't think she looked at the clock once.
Well, maybe once.
I met Britt Elkand in 2016. She was very sweet.
No comments:
Post a Comment