I didn’t pay that rating much notice, because this same publication also gave Caddyshack a single star, and in my mind that was a masterpiece. So, when it finally played, my 12-year-old self watched Saturday the 14th, confident it would be an amazing horror comedy.
I mention all this because, while I can remember TV Week’s rating of the film, I retained absolutely nothing from that initial viewing of Saturday the 14th. I mean, nothing! So, this recent watch was like seeing it for the first time.
And twice is enough. I now know why I couldn’t remember the movie; my brain was blocking it out!
That’s a bit harsh, actually; Saturday the 14th is a PG-level spoof with a few moments that work. Alas, there are many, many more that do not.
After inheriting a house from his late uncle, John Hyatt (Richard Benjamin) and his wife Mary (Benjamin’s real-life spouse, Paula Prentiss) pack up their belongings and two kids - teenager Debbie (Kari Michaelson) and pre-teen Billy (Kevin Brando) - and move into their new home. Never mind that it’s old, dusty, and dilapidated. As the realtor (Carole Androsky) tells them, it’s a “fixer-upper”.
But the house is more than just falling apart; it’s cursed! That first night, Billy finds an old book, titled the “Book of Evil”, and opens it, unwittingly releasing into the world a number of monsters, all now roaming feeling throughout the house.
This book, which is 300 years old, is also coveted by a number of others, including a vampire couple (Jeffrey Tambor and Nancy Lee Andrews) and an exterminator named Van Helsing (Severn Darden), who warns the Hyatts that if the monsters aren’t put back in the book by midnight on Saturday the 14th, it will mean the end of the world.
Produced by Julie Corman (wife of Roger) and written and directed by Howard R. Cohen, Saturday the 14th tries its damnedest to make us laugh, tossing out jokes, sight gags, and one-liners at a frantic pace. Unfortunately, about 80-90% of them fall flat. In one early scene, the vampire couple is checking out the house in the hope of buying it. Making conversation, the realtor asks if they have children. “As often as we can”, is Jeffrey Tambor’s response.
Some of the performances are also lacking. Richard Benjamin’s John is a clueless patriarch who tries to find a silver lining in any dark cloud, yet the actor seems bored with it all, as does the normally reliable Jeffrey Tambor. Faring slightly better are Paula Prentiss, whose Mary receives a bite from a vampire and slowly begins to transform (a storyline that had potential, but is inexplicably dropped in the last act) and Severn Darden as the low-key expert of the supernatural (most of the film’s bigger laughs come courtesy of his character). I also thought the monsters looked decent enough. Not great, mind you, but decent, especially the Gill Man, which first appears in a bathtub, easily the film’s most impressive scene.
The sophomoric humor that runs rampant throughout Saturday the 14th might appeal to younger viewers, and is harmless enough that it won’t give them nightmares. But don’t expect their sides to be splitting either.
Rating: 4 out of 10
Fashion editor Michael James (Peter O’Toole) is the most sought-after playboy in all of Paris. Women throw themselves at him, and more often than not Michael is only too happy to oblige his admirers. But Michael has a problem: he is deeply in love with Carole (Romy Schneider), and wants desperately to stay faithful to her.
To this end, he seeks the help of noted psychiatrist Dr. Fritz Fassbender (Peter Sellers), who is having romantic problems of his own. Shunning his overbearing wife (Edra Gale), Dr. Fassbender flirts openly with Renee Lefevre (Capucine), one of his patients. Unfortunately for the good doctor, Renee has fallen under Michael’s spell, as has stripper Liz Bien (Paula Prentiss), who attempts to kill herself every time Michael rejects her.
Surrounded by amorous beauties, Michael is fighting an uphill battle. But when Carole begins dating Victor (Woody Allen), a jealous Michael comes to the realization that he may finally be ready to settle down.
From its flashy costumes to its misogynistic leanings, What’s New Pussycat plays like a relic from the past, with moments that will undoubtedly make modern audiences cringe. While recounting his earliest sexual experiences, Michael talks of an affair he had with his teacher, Miss Marks (Barbara Somers), which we witness during a brief flashback. “Michael, this can’t work”, Miss Marks says as she and Michael embrace, “I’m 34 and you’re 12”.
And yet, for some reason, I did enjoy What’s New Pussycat. It has an energy that is infectious, building and building from one bizarre scene to the next. Michael attends one of Dr. Fassbender’s group sessions, which quickly (and hilariously) devolves into chaos, but this is nothing compared to what happens later on, when all of the characters meet up (most by chance) at a Chateau, then try to outrun the police (who have been called to restore order) by jumping into go-carts and taking off down the street! There’s even a scene in which pretty blonde Rita (Ursula Andress) parachutes into Michael’s car as it is speeding down the highway. And keep an eye out for Richard Burton, who makes a cameo as himself (he shares the screen for about 15 seconds with O’Toole, who co-starred with Burton a few years prior in Becket).
In addition to the film’s unbridled anarchy, writer Allen occasionally pays homage to a handful of cinematic classics. A scene set by a river, featuring Allen and Sellers, harkens back to a similar moment in Charlie Chaplin’s City Lights; and there is a dream sequence that looks as if it was lifted straight out of Fellini’s 8 ½!
Filled to its breaking point with slapstick, one-liners, sexual innuendo, and gobs of male chauvinism (Michael calls every pretty woman he meets “pussycat” because it's easier than remembering their name), What’s New Pussycat will not be for everyone. And while I can’t blame you if it rubs you the wrong way, don’t hate me just because I thought it was a blast.
Rating: 7.5 out of 10
Such is the case with Barney Cashman, the focal point of 1972’s Last of the Red Hot Lovers. Played to perfection by Alan Arkin, Barney leads a humdrum life. A middle-aged businessman (he owns a Seafood restaurant in New York City) with a wife and kids, Barney feels as if he’s missing out on all the excitement, and decides to have an affair.
Using his mother’s apartment (she spends every Tuesday volunteering at Mount Sanai Hospital), he will, over the course of several weeks, invite three separate women - customer Elaine Navazio (Sally Kellerman), pretty stranger Bobbi Michele (Paula Prentiss), and his wife’s friend Jeanette Fisher (Renée Taylor), whose husband cheats on her regularly - to join him for an afternoon tryst. Alas, none go according to plan, leaving Barney to wonder if he’s really the cheating type, or if he’s just unlucky.
Arkin is in top form as Barney, who, despite being a successful restauranteur, comes across as one of life’s losers. The scenes sandwiched between his ”romantic” encounters feature Barney waking up in the morning, driving to work, and dealing with employees. Throughout these moments, he maintains a running internal monologue, lamenting his ordinary existence. “I could rob a bank, nobody would look up”, he says to himself at one point.
Unfortunately, his attempts to break the routine and live a little prove equally unfulfilling. Sally Kellerman’s Elaine is there for sex and nothing more, but the inexperienced Barney feels they should spend some time getting to know one another. Bobbi Michele, played by the always reliable Paula Prentiss, is a flighty actress whose mood changes from happy to angry and back to happy again without a moment’s notice; while family friend Jeanette is depressed, and knows a little too much about Barney and his wife for comfort. All three women are as sharp and funny as Barney, and their give-and-take with him will have you in stitches.
So while I may have never met anyone as quick-witted as Oscar Madison, Ira Parks, or Barney Cashman, I feel as if I’ve known dozens just like them. And that is the magic of Neil Simon.
Rating: 8 out of 10
