Showing posts with label Barbra Streisand. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Barbra Streisand. Show all posts

Saturday, June 30, 2018

A STAR IS BORN 1976

"Cut away from me?"
"Honestly, it's too much of you. They don't want you in every scene."
"They don't? Then why do they write me fan letters every day? Why do they beg me for my photograph? Why? Because they want to see me! ME...Norma Desmond! Put it back"
"Okay."      
                                                            -  Sunset Boulevard (1950)

Every generation deserves its own revolution, its own slang, its own music, and apparently, its own A Star is Born. Yes, that enduring Tears Behind the Tinsel fable about the doomed love affair between a star emergent and a star descendent is returning to the screen for its fourth iteration in 2018. What began life as George Cukor's What Price Hollywood? (1932) starring Constance Bennett and Lowell Sherman, was in 1937 remade, renamed, and retooled into the form most recognize today-- A Star is Born (1937) starring Janet Gaynor and Frederic March. In 1954 original director George Cukor returned to helm what is perhaps the most familiar and iconic version of the now thrice-told tale, the musicalized A Star is Born starring Judy Garland and James Mason. Garland's version, like those that came before, was set in Hollywood and the motion picture industry. When Barbra Streisand teamed with folk singer Kris Kristofferson for the eagerly-anticipated 1976 remake, the film was again made into a musical, but the setting was now the world of rock 'n' roll. Well, not quite...let's just say the music industry.

October 2018 will bring us yet another musical adaptation of A Star is Born, this time starring Bradley Cooper (making his directing debut), and Lady Gaga (nee Stefani Germanotta) whom I’m glad to see has finally abandoned her meat dress. Though one might assume any update of A Star is Born would be most relatable if it were to feature an up-and-coming winner of a reality TV singing competition falling in love with an opioid-addicted social-media influencer suddenly faced with a deficit of “likes,” but from the looks of the new film's trailerCooper sporting long hair and a scraggly beard, Ms. Gaga granted a Funny Girl-esque scene where the hero tells the self-effacing heroine she’s beautifulit’s clear A Star is Born: 2018 will be tipping its hat to the classic Judy Garland film, but taking its cues from the Barbra Streisand version.
Barbra Streisand as Esther Hoffman
Kris Kristofferson as John Norman Howard
Gary Busey as Bobby Ritchie, a road manager
Paul Mazursky as Brian Wexler, a manager
As Helen Lawson so memorably reminded us in Valley of the Dolls, “Broadway doesn’t go for booze and dope.” But when it comes to the world of rock & roll, accept no substitutions. At least that's the philosophy of down and burnt-out rock sensation John Norman Howard (Kristofferson) who needs a bump of coke and a swig of Jack Daniels just to get through his passionless concert engagements. Concerts in which he’s obliged to give repeat performances of past successes (like a pre- “Garden Party” Rick Nelson) to faceless throngs of entitled fans he has grown to resent. Unprofessional, uncommitted, and disrespectful of his own talent, John Norman is a has-been in training, isolated and world-weary of the sex/drugs/rock & roll existence of a superstar.
More a folk singer than hard rocker, Grammy Award-winning singer/songwriter Kris Kristofferson didn't write any of his songs for A Star is Born.  Which is a pity, and perhaps why they're so undistinguished 

One alcohol-soaked night out on the town he happens to catch the act of curly-haired chanteuse Esther Hoffman (Streisand) and finds in the warm, lush, plush notes emerging from her fair throat, a glimmer of the commitment and raw talent he’d lost touch with within himself. Of course, he’s instantly besotted.
The Oreos
Yep. That tone-deaf name actually passed for cute and edgy back in the '70s. Though the two women flanking La Streisand appear throughout the film as Esther's backup singers and ostensible friends, neither is even given a name. Maybe that's because their primary purpose in the film is to make Streisand sound less like an "Easy Listening" artist, while simultaneously serving as signifiers of how hip and down-to-earth Esther is (Look! She even has Black friends!). In real life, backup singers Clydie King (left) and Venetta Fields are recording legends in their own right, with careers dating back to the early '60s. 

Putting aside for the moment the credibility-stretching conceit that growl-rocker John Norman would find the cutesy Captain & Tennille-esque ditty Esther is crooning remotely engaging in the first place, in order for this scene to work one must also accept that between persistent interruptions from a waitress, a pushy fan (Robert Englund), and the eventual outbreak of a fistfight, John Norman is still able to detect something special about our Esther (her perpetual backlight, perhaps) that makes him certain his racing heart is not just the result of all that cocaine. Perhaps it was something in her voice and shy manner when she tells him “You’re blowin’ my act!” that touched his showbiz weary soul.

They court cute, he wooing her by showing her his adorably immature and self-destructive streak, she by being all judgy about his life choices, thereby demonstrating that she’s a straight-shooter unimpressed by wealth and celebrity. How can love fail to bloom? 
And while Esther exhibits very little in the way of professional ambition (she's actually responsible for her trio losing a commercial job because a silly jingle for cat food clashes with her artistic purity), John Norman encourages her songwriting and uses his fame and connections to give his lady love a leg up in the business. Her breakthrough moment comes when she steps out on stage in a conservative pantsuit and wows a crowd of rock fans with her MOR pop groovin’... and before you know it, a star is born.
Wailin' Esther Hoffman
She's not your father's rock & roller...oh, wait...maybe she is

Romantically, John Norman and Esther are good for each other in that mutual fixer-upper way beloved of soap operas and doomed romances. So when the pair hastily marry and the movie momentarily grinds to a halt to accommodate a protracted fashion show/Barbra Streisand ass and legs appreciation hour; the only comfort to be had is in knowing they can’t keep up these shenanigans for much longer. 

With fewer montages, A Star is Born might have found some time to show us more of Esther's overnight success. With Barbra Streisand in the lead, the filmmakers seem to expect audiences to take Esther’s eventual success as a given. For in a 2 ½ hour movie titled A Star is Born, it’s almost perverse the way the film staunchly refuses to show us how she becomes a star. One minute she goes over well at a benefit concert, the next she's got a song on the charts and the world is clamoring for tour engagements. 

Further compounding the sense of things feeling rushed is we never see how Esther feels about her life being changed. Nowhere to be found are scenes of Esther reacting to sudden wealth, celebrity, or having all her dreams come true. On the contrary, Esther never seems to enjoy her success at all. The screenplay has her treating her newfound fame as some kind of necessary annoyance she has to endure in order to support her poncho habit and all those artfully staged gambols with John Norman out in the desert. 
Tony Orlando stands by as Rita Coolidge (Mrs. Kristofferson) eyes Barbra suspiciously.
Even before her inebriated husband appears in time to drop an F-bomb on live TV, Esther is the glummest Grammy nominee you've ever seen. Most of us know that the average pop star would sell their firstborn for an industry award, but not our Esther. On what should be the realization of a lifetime dream, Esther is so disinterested in the award, she almost leaves the ceremony early.


As Esther climbs further up the ladder of success (something we just have to take the film's word for)  John Norman finds it increasingly difficult to gain even a foothold, sinking deeper and deeper into his old self-sabotaging ways. Since there’s no telling how much time has elapsed between courtship to crack-up, the tension in their relationship takes a backseat to the masochism. That is until fate or a suicidal act of selflessness intervenes (it’s left ambiguous which), successfully granting Streisand fans what they’ve wanted all along: unobstructed access to La Plus Grande Diva du Monde.

Streisand fans have their patience rewarded when the film concludes with an eight-minute concert medley shot entirely in closeup. A closeup wherein Streisand's famed vocalizing is in constant danger of being upstaged (and not in a good way) by her Valerie Cherish-style boogying. The dramatic emphasis placed on this sequence: Esther on her own, singing her late husband's songs, with heightening self-assurance, introduced to the crowd as Esther Hoffman-Howard...suggests that THIS is the moment that a star is born. Which would certainly explain why the preceding 2 hours and 15 minutes have shown us an Esther far more devoted to canoodling with her hubby than pursuing a recording career. 
Initially shot in a single tight closeup, new footage restored to A Star is Born in 2018
 alters the finale to include more wide shots to give some of us a breather

I’m not overly fond of remakes, but in 1976 so much had changed both in the world of celebrity (recording artists were as big as movie stars) and society’s attitudes towards women (a wife with a more successful career than her husband wasn’t considered “quite” the emasculating tragedy it was in 1954), that a rock & roll update of A Star is Born sounded like a pretty sound idea. And while it was hard to imagine anyone bold enough to try to follow in the ruby slippered footsteps of Judy Garland in the role, if there was any star in the '70s with that kind of nerve, it was either Barbra Streisand or Clint Eastwood; and 1969s Paint Your Wagon had already strained the limits of what most of us were willing to subject ourselves to vis a vis Clint Eastwood singing. 
A Star is Born was a Christmas release, vying for holiday boxoffice dominance against another high-profile remake, Dino De Laurentiss' King Kong. I wasn't what you'd call a huge Barbra Streisand fan at the time, but when A Star is Born opened that Christmas at The Northpoint, one of San Francisco's largest theaters, I allowed myself to get all swept up in the pre-release hype. So much so that the film's central paradox--that Barbra Streisand was known for a lot of things, but heavy rockin' wasn't one of them--didn’t really hit me until I was sitting, dumbstruck, watching the movie in the theater. Almost immediately it became apparent that even the faux, sanitized vision of the rock world presented in A Star is Born was an ill-fit for Streisand's image, look, and sound.
Originally titled Rainbow Road and conceived as a co-starring vehicle for then real-life couple Carly Simon and James Taylor, a rock and roll version of A Star is Born actually makes sense. (Too much so, it would appear, if one believes accounts of Simon and Taylor turning the film down because it hit too close to home.) Newbie producer Jon Peters thought the property would make the ideal image-changing vehicle for his lady love, but it is precisely Streisand's involvement that proves the most problematic element of the enterprise. Does she possess star quality and magnetism? Yes. Is she a dynamic personality who energizes the film? Yes. Does she have a remarkable voice? Yes again. Is she for one minute convincing as the kind of singer capable of getting rock audiences to sit up and take notice? Absolutely not.

In retrospect, it strikes me that Streisand, a recording artist trained in musical theater and supper clubs, may have been better served by a A Star is Born set in the more traditional showbiz worlds of Hollywood, Broadway, or even Las Vegas. But, seeing as A Star is Born revisits the same “Oh, My Man/Oh, My Career” themes featured in both Funny Girl and Funny LadyI can appreciate the appeal a change in setting might have presented. 
"I don't mean to be difficult... ."
Misogyny has always played a factor in how Streisand's professionalism has been represented in the press. Sensitivity to this is perhaps why, by 1976, it had almost become a staple of Streisand's films to feature a scene where she's shown telling people how to do their jobs.

Barbra Streisand hasn't really been "hip" since the early days of her career when she was seen as a kooky bohemian with an avant-garde, thrift-shop sense of style. Since then her appeal has largely been "middle": middle of the road and middle-aged. A Star is Born was an effort to recast Streisand as a contemporary of Linda Ronstadt and Stevie Nicks, but her larger-than-life persona, studied self-awareness, showbizzy comic delivery, and penchant for drag queen levels of glamour overkill feel all wrong for the world of concert stadium rock. Even taking into account the weirdness of the 1976 music scene, wherein youth-centric TV music shows like The Midnight Special and Don Kirschner’s Rock Concert would feature such head-scratcher bookings as The Hudson Brothers and Helen Reddy appearing alongside Chaka Kahn and Fleetwood Mac; buying Barbra Streisand as a rocker still remains a major stretch.
For A Few Dollars More
Critics ripped it apart, but A Star is Born was a huge hit for Streisand
and one of the top boxoffice releases of 1976

A Star is Born is Streisand’s first feature film after satisfying a four-picture, ten-year commitment to producer Ray Stark with the “contractually obligated” Funny Lady. As the first of her films over which she was able to exert near-total control (her clashes with director Frank Pierson are the stuff of legend), it’s no small wonder that A Star is Born at times feels a tad overdetermined in placing Streisand even more front-and-center than a star-propelled vehicle like this necessitates.

A Star is Born was Streisand's big chance to present herself exactly as she wanted to be seen, and in press conferences, she was fond of telling reporters that situations and dialogue were drawn from her relationship with Jon Peters (her hairdresser on 1974s For Pete’s Sake, now producer and lover). Streisand filled Esther’s apartment with furnishings from her own home, and even indulged herself with a “Ms. Streisand’s clothes from…Her Closet” credit. For the first time Streisand actually invited audiences to draw comparisons to herself and a character she was playing. All of this makes A Star is Born doubly fascinating, for it not only gives us a glimpse of what a self-professed perfectionist thinks is good, but a sobering look at how a star, when finally granted power, chooses to wield it.

Woman on Top
On the plus side, all of this makes Streisand's Esther Hoffman considerably less passive and victimized than her A Star is Born predecessors. She fights back, yells, tells professionals how to do their jobs (a Streisand movie staple by now), and engages in gender-flip activities like proposing marriage, removing the word "obey" from their marriage vows, putting makeup on John Norman in the bathtub, wearing tailored suits when she performs, and riding John Norman like a pony when they have sex.
Lost Inside Of You
A private reason I was so keen on seeing A Star is Born is due to having developed a crush on Kris Kristofferson from having seen him earlier that year (a LOT of him) in The Sailor Who Fell From Grace With The Sea co-starring Sarah MilesShort of some Barbra side-boobage and several views of Kristofferson's happy trail, nothing remotely as explicit as above transpires in A Star is Born

WHAT I LOVE ABOUT THIS FILM
I know what I’ve written thus far doesn’t seem like it, but A Star is Born really IS a movie I love. Part has to do with my fond memories of this particular time in my life and nostalgia for the '70s (and this movie is as '70s as a mood ring); partly because of the soundtrack (still the film's strongest suit); and only the most self-serious Streisand fan would deny the camp appeal of the film's in-your-face vanity project aesthetic. It's all Barbra, all the time. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing.

Part of my love and appreciation for Barbra Streisand lies in the fact that even when she’s miscast (Hello, Dolly!), ill-used (Meet The Fockers), or unhappy (Funny Lady), she’s never less than mesmerizing to watch. 
A photographer captures Esther's best side as Barbra Streisand channels Cleo Laine

As stated, I think the soundtrack to A Star is Born is its greatest asset. Academy voters must have thought so too, granting the song “Evergreen” the only Oscar win of four nominations (all technical: cinematography, sound, score). It’s a Streisand showcase all the way, but Kristofferson—granted but two songs to perform in rotation—does a nice job on “Crippled Crow” and when Streisand allows him a cameo on the songs fashioned as duets. More melodic pop than rock, I like the ballads best, my favorite being Paul Williams’ “With One More Look at You.” A testament to the soundtrack album’s strength is that listening to it provides a purer A Star is Born experience than actually seeing the movie. In the final analysis, the songs reveal character and convey a narrative arc far more evocatively than the film does.
As John Norman's road manager, Gary Busey gives a performance so good,
you practically ache thinking about what A Star is Born had the potential to be

THE STUFF OF DREAMS
I think it’s fair that every generation gets its own A Star is Born. With each new incarnation comes the hope that the film will deviate from its predecessors enough to say something new and relevant to its time. Everybody loves a good love story, so there’s always that; but fame worship and the cult of celebrity dominate our culture so disproportionately and dangerously these days, a real opportunity presents itself with a remake.
So, A Star is Born, I guess it's time to take one more look at you.


BONUS MATERIAL
"Will there be anything else, Ms. Streisand?"
Barbra Streisand's assistant during the making of A Star Is Born was actress Joan Marshall. Then married to director Hal Ashby (Shampoo), she's billed as Joan Marshall Ashby in the credits, but fans of William Castle know her as Jean Arless, the knife-wielding star of Homicidal.
Guest Stars
Fans of What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? are sure to recognize Maidie Norman
1988 Best Actress Oscar nominee for Anna, Sally Kirkland
Robert Altman favorite Marta Heflin
Freddy Krueger himself, Robert Englund
  
That's Roslyn Kind, Streisand's younger half-sister. She appears in the film for
less time than it takes for you to read this. And she's never in focus, to boot.

Streisand & Kristofferson were reunited in 1984 for her first music video: "Left in the Dark." The six-minute video for the Jim Steinman song (which appears on her "Emotion " album) was directed by Jonathan Kaplan (The Accused, Love Field, Heart Like A Wheel). Watch it HERE

From the Literary Corner
Novelizations were a popular movie marketing tool in the '70s. If the book is anything like the purple prose featured on the promotional bookmarks (click on image to enlarge), perhaps I shouldn't have passed this one by

Are You Watching Me Now?

Copyright © Ken Anderson  2009 - 2018

Wednesday, May 24, 2017

FUNNY LADY 1975

I had such a good time watching the Joan Crawford/ Bette Davis cable TV series Feud that when its eight-episode run on the FX channel was over, it left me with both a lingering taste for biographical films that play fast and loose with the facts, and a hankering for outsized performances by actors whose scrupulously-engineered screen personas are inextricably linked to their public image.
So naturally, I thought of Barbra Streisand. That is, Barbra Streisand by way of Fanny Brice; Fanny Brice by way of Funny Girl; and ultimately, Streisand and Brice by way of the misguided, contractually-mandated Funny Girl sequel—that rapturous, cotton candy fashion parade, ego-stroke of a musical guilty pleasure known as Funny Lady.
Barbra Streisand as Fanny Brice
James Caan as Billy Rose
Omar Sharif as Nick Arnstein 
Roddy McDowall as Bobby Moore
(I wanted to give McDowall his own screencap, but the
poor guy hasn't a single close-up in the entire film)

When the narrative of the 1964 Broadway musical and subsequent 1968 film adaptation of Funny Girl concluded sometime in the late 1920s, we all knew there was more to the Fanny Brice story (punctuated by brief forays into film and television, Brice's success as a radio star lasted up to her death in 1951). Whether or not that story was anything worth telling is another matter.
Funny Lady (which some of you may know by its alternate title: “The Back of James Caan’s Head”) is ostensibly the continuing saga of Ziegfeld Follies star Fanny Brice, who, when last seen in Funny Girl, was photogenically torchin’ on a dark stage, crying her Egyptian-eyelinered eyes out after having been dumped by recently-sprung-from-jail-for-embezzlement hubby Nicky Arnstein.
An admitted highly-fictionalized account of Brice’s later years, Funny Lady picks up roughly where Funny Girl left off (very roughly, in fact); with Brice shown backstage, still-pining-for-Nicky, being served final divorce papers by Arnstein in absentia. Romantic rejection of this sort is usually the stuff of tragedy, but as this sentimental setback grants Streisand the first of many opportunities to fling her head back in classic “suffering diva” mode (treating fans to the actress’s regal profile and shapely septum) Funny Lady instantly establishes an unfortunate precedent for a musical entertainment: Streisand is at her best when Fanny is at her worst.
Indeed, given the degree of care Oscar-nominated cinematographer James Wong Howe lavishes on La Streisand when in the throes of heartbreak, from a fan's point of view, the glow of a happy Fanny Brice is no match for the luminous sheen of a miserable Barbra Streisand. So, in essence, the worse things go for Fanny, the better things go for the Streisand-watchers. This is going to be a fun musical.
 Am I Blue?
What's bad for Miss Brice is super for Streisand-watchers 

At what point in history this all transpires is rather nebulously conveyed, for the film’s vaguely delineated timeline is actually a mashup of Brice’s real-life 1927 divorce, the 1929 stock market crash, and the onset of the Great Depression. However long it's been, clearly enough time has elapsed allowing for Fanny’s transmogrification from the optimistic, likable, gently self-deprecating “People” person of Funny Girl, to the overdressed, perpetually scowling, foul-mouthed know-it-all of Funny Lady.

Funny Girl was the rags-to-riches, broken-heart-for-every-bulb-on Broadway saga of a gangly waif whose prodigious talent triumphed over humble beginnings and unconventional beauty. Audiences responded to it because it took the usual Horatio Alger clichés of the celebrity bio, added a duckling-into-a-swan fairy-tale, and crossed it with a Cinderella love story.
Funny Lady, on the other hand, showcases a Fanny Brice who’s a firmly established star. Successful, confident, glamorous (to an almost parodic degree), calling her own shots, and without a single insecure bone in her body. This proves marvelous for Streisand, who gets to look fabulous throughout without once having to endure a single joke made at the expense of her looks; dominate in numerous scenes depicting her offering people professional advice and basically telling others how they can better do their jobs; and finally, she doesn’t have to be the least bit funny. This is thanks to a screenplay that has characters tell her…at regular intervals…to her face…just how delightfully funny she is.
Funny Girl was a Cinderella fantasy, which everyone loves. Funny Lady is built on a Have-It-All Fantasy (I have talent, wealth, fame, and beauty...why can't I find love?) which is kinda annoying

A screenplay highlighting a self-possessed Fanny Brice no-doubt proved instrumental in getting Streisand to agree to appear in a sequel she really didn’t want to do, but the lack of character conflict leaves Funny Lady with almost no narrative thrust. Sure, there’s a Depression going on, but the film has Streisand parade around in so many outlandishly glamorous Bob Mackie/Ray Aghayan outfits, Brice merely comes off as living in a bubble of privilege.
Similarly, the plot sets up Brice as professionally rudderless in her post-Ziegfeld years, weathering the financial storm of the Great Depression by having to team up with novice-showman/seasoned-huckster Billy Rose in order to stay afloat. But after approximately two lines of expositional dialogue and a couple of brief exchanges, Bruce’s money woes are quickly dispatched, never to be mentioned again. 
Down on her luck, Fanny Brice goes slumming in a casual daytime frock

No, Funny Lady’s single dramatic arc (milked for all its worth for close to 2½ hours) concerns whether or not Fanny can shed her romantic illusions about the dashing Nick Arnstein in time to realize that falling “in like” with the sloppy, unsophisticated, very Henry Street, Billy Rose is perhaps where her happiness lies. But even THIS minimal, not terribly compelling conflict is undermined by the casting of athletic, macho James Caan as the diminutive (4' 11"), unprepossessing Billy Rose. What could have been an interesting gender-reversal of Funny Girl’s “opposites attract” relationship is reduced to Fanny having to choose between the extraordinarily handsome guy who says “tomato” and the extraordinarily handsome guy who says “tomahto.”
Streisand in an interview; "It comes down to whom the audience wants to see me kiss.
Robert Blake [an early Billy Rose contender], no. James, Caan, yes."
  
WHAT I LOVE ABOUT THIS FILM
I get a kick out of Funny Lady in spite of the fact that it’s fairly useless as biography, bloodless as a love story, and too disjointed and episodic to even satisfy as a cohesive narrative (it’s impossible to keep track of how much time has elapsed between scenes). But Funny Lady works best, makes the most sense, and proves both an invaluable source of information and entertainment when taken for what it really is: a Barbra Streisand report card.  
Here, Streisand grants the audience permission to get a load of her
Think about it. Beyond the old “If they liked it once, they’ll love it twice” maxim that serves as the inspirational catalyst for most movie sequels; the only reason Funny Lady exists at all is that Streisand owed Funny Girl producer Ray Stark one more film on their four-picture contract. Press releases claim the reluctant Streisand had initially informed Stark that he’d have to sue her before she’d do a Funny Girl sequel, but changed her mind after reading the script.
Not buying it. Anybody who’s seen Funny Lady knows that its script is more likely to instigate a lawsuit, not stop one. No. My gut tells me that Streisand agreed to appear in the sequel because, after a long musical hiatus (her last was 1970s On a Clear Day You Can See Forever) Funny Lady provided her with a showy vehicle that amounts to being a $7.5 million dollar progress report showcasing how far she’s come in the seven years since Funny Girl.

Funny Lady is an investors presentation of a movie, furnishing fans and the public at large irrefutable evidence, in spite of Oscar-winning Johnny-come-latelys like Time magazine’s “New Miss Show Biz” Liza Minnelli (Funny Lady enlists the talents of Cabaret’s songwriting team [Kander & Ebb] and screenwriter [Jay Presson Allen]), that Barbra Streisand—after one Oscar; eight films; and countless albums, awards, and TV specials—still has the ol’ musical comedy poop.

Funny Lady is Streisand as she enters the most self-aware (and self-serious) phase of her screen career. In this film Streisand moves to shed the old screen persona she helped create—that of the self-effacing, pigeon-toed kook with lungs of brass—and presents herself as strong, self-confident, glamorous, and in control. Admirable qualities, to be sure, but not exactly conducive to fun. In fact, this Fanny is a bit of a pill.
In place of the ingratiating, eager-to-please woman we met in 1968, 1975 Streisand doesn’t appear particularly concerned with whether or not you like her. You’re welcome to worship her if you like, but this Streisand doesn’t need your validation. Nor does she need anyone to tell her how fabulous she is. She knows it. (In fact, this is the least smiling Streisand ever…she actually looks angry 90% of the time. But as any woman who’s been told by a perfect stranger on the street to “Smile!” can tell you, a woman choosing NOT to smile is practically an act of social rebellion.)
Let's Hear It For Me...or else

PERFORMANCES
Leaving Streisand aside for the moment (dare I?), I’d like to give a quick shout-out to all those shuttled to the wings while the funny lady commands center stage.

James Caan is one of the more underrated actors to come out of the ‘70s, and I’m as guilty as the next of never quite giving this versatile actor his due. While I’m of the mind that Robert Blake would have made the most intriguing Billy Rose, James Caan is no slouch. He's actually very good here, playing Rose as a fast-talking sharpie reminiscent of Jimmy Cagney in comedy mode. He sings well, is charming, and as Streisand co-stars go, he’s one of the strongest. Too bad the overall effectiveness of his performance is sabotaged by editing which relegates him to co-star status rather than leading man.

For a gay icon with a gay son, Barbra Streisand has a pretty shady reputation for onscreen gay representation. Several of her films have characters uttering homophobic slurs (in The Owl and the Pussycat and For Pete’s Sake, she’s the culprit), and in Funny Lady, the points Roddy McDowall’s openly gay character gets for inclusion (he’s her best friend and world’s oldest chorus boy) are subverted by a script which seldom misses an opportunity to refer to him in “period-appropriate” derogatory ways.
I can’t speak to McDowall’s performance because, as in 1965s Inside Daisy Clover, he doesn’t actually have anything to do, but there’s something old-Hollywood comforting about seeing him.

It’s doubtful Tony Award-winning performer Ben Vereen had a very sizable role to begin with, but most of what he did contribute became a casualty of all the editing Funny Lady underwent before release. Playing vaudeville entertainer Bert Robinson (a fictional combination of real-life artists Bert Williams and Bill "Bojangles" Robinson, Vereen has no interaction with the main cast at all, and with the three-minute “So Long Honey Lamb” number cut to three seconds (a bullet dodged, in my opinion); only Vereen’s dynamic singing and dancing in “Clap Hands, Here Comes Charlie” remains. He’s marvelous, of course, and gives the film a much-needed kick in the pants, energy-wise, but it feels disembodied from the rest of the action, like those Lena Horne novelty sequences in MGM musicals which were filmed in ways that made them easy to be removed in Southern theaters.

It’s poor Omar Sharif who fares the worst, however. His character is set up to be knocked down; so much dialogue is given over to Streisand (“No, you don’t have any lines here. It’s my turn” she actually says to him in one of Funny Lady’s many startlingly meta moments) he merely shows up, smiles, and bows out. Twice!
Streisand draws our attention to her favorite co-star: Her nails

THE STUFF OF FANTASY
Like a great many musicals, Funny Lady is at its best when no one is talking. The film looks spectacular, thanks to the contributions of no less than three on/off cinematographers: Vilmos Zsigmond, Ernest Laszlo, James Wong Howe; and the nifty musical score is a combination of period classics and five new numbers by John Kander & Fred Ebb (though the fan-worship pandering of “How Lucky Can you Get?” and “Let’s Hear It For Me” is so shameless you might find yourself blushing). Adding to the film’s pluses are the witty, Oscar-nominated costumes by Mackie/Aghayan, which capture the theatrical, over-the-top appeal of classic Hollywood musicals.
Streisand in a little knockabout crowd-pleaser she throws on
for those nights when she just doesn't care what she looks like
 

Funny Lady’s production numbers play better now than they did in 1975 when the musical arrangements and intentionally garish costuming made 1930s Broadway look like 1970s outtakes from The Carol Burnett Show (not exactly a coincidence since Funny Lady features Burnett show alumni Peter Matz [Oscar-nominated musical director], Mackie [costumes], and several members of Carol Burnett's dance chorus.)

The "Great Day" number featuring Streisand surrounded by an all-Black dance ensemble (top), perhaps found its inspiration in the similarly staged "High/Low" number Ethel Merman performed with an all-Black chorus in 1936 musical Strike Me Pink (bottom). It's wonderful, but the cringe optics of Streisand as the Great White Goddess has aged terribly. 

Although I hate it when movies feature scenes of seasoned theater professionals breaking
character simply when things go wrong on stage, I absolutely adored this set design
You're forgiven if you assume the above screencaps are from The Sonny & Cher Comedy Hour, The Donny & Marie Show, The Captain and Tennille, or The Brady Bunch Hour...all '70s TV variety shows looked like this.

Portraying a Friend of Fanny Brice Proves Risky Business
Actress Carole Wells, as Brice's friend Norma Butler in Funny Lady, suffered a fate similar to that of Anne Francis in Funny Girl. By that I mean, finding that the bulk of her scenes had been left on the cutting room floor

THE STUFF OF DREAMS
Funny Lady debuted in March of 1975, the very same month that saw the release of Ken Russell’s Tommy and Peter Bogdanovich’s At Long Last Love. Tommy was such a revelatory thrill to me that I went to see it practically every weekend during its entire run at SF’s Northpoint Theater, so by the time I got around to seeing Funny Lady, I had grown so besotted with Tommy’s mind-blowing innovation that Streisand’s film seemed positively underwhelming by comparison. Having not yet seen Funny Girl at this point—Funny Lady was just my third Streisand film—I didn’t even have sentimentality on my side (the significance of that yellow rose featured so prominently in the film’s advertising was lost on me). It was only when Funny Lady was in second-run and came to the Alhambra Theater (where I ushered) that I came to appreciate it: the patchy musical playing significantly better when viewed à la carte.
Critics seemed to hate the unconvincing old-age makeup used in Funny Lady's final scenes, but I thought Caan and Streisand looked absolutely adorable. Certainly preferable to when in 1991 Caan teamed up with Bette Midler in For The Boys and the old-age makeup applied made both actors look like reptile people

These days, Funny Lady remains both a guilty pleasure and the last of the enjoyable Streisand musicals. More Grande Lady than Funny Lady, it’s a marvelous film to revisit whenever I find myself in need of a Streisand fix.

A Streisand fix being akin to my Joan Crawford fixation: both being stars of such unique talents; they fascinate even when they’re awful. I like Barbra Streisand considerably more as a singer than an actress, but in these cookie-cutter times when I honestly can’t tell a bland Chris Pine from a vanilla Bradley Cooper, I find I’ve grown fonder (or at least more tolerant of) her distinctive screen persona. When Streisand is on her game (Funny Girl, On a Clear Day, What’s Up, Doc?) there isn’t anyone better. And while Funny Lady is not much of a showcase for Streisand the actress or comedienne, it’s a helluva showcase for Streisand the star.



BONUS MATERIAL
Distributed in theater lobbies: My Funny Lady promotional foldout from 1975.  
For those interested, the terrific The Barbra Streisand Archives offers more info than you'll likely ever want to know about the making of Funny Lady. From deleted scenes and interviews to costume sketches and behind-the-scenes trivia.


Copyright © Ken Anderson  2009 - 2017