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IT CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: FUNNY BONES (1995)

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DIRECTED BY: Peter Chelsom

FEATURING: Oliver Platt, Lee Evans, , ,

PLOT: When the son of a legendary comedian bombs in his Vegas debut, he retrenches by returning his boyhood home in the faded resort town of Blackpool in search of material that he can pinch to re-tool his act.

Still from Funny Bones (1995)

COMMENTS: Among the many lessons we’ve learned throughout film’s existence , one that recurs consistently, is that comedians are the saddest bastards around. Mainstream moviemakers have never tired of reminding us that every joke-teller is merely a modern-day Pagliacci pleading with their therapist for release from the misery. Funny Bones finds an even sadder level: the comic who isn’t funny. Can you imagine such a predicament? Here you are with the pedigree, the material, the opportunity, and the moment the spotlight hits you, you die on the vine. Sheesh, even Pagliacci could get his act together come performance time.

This is the fate of painfully unsuccessful Tommy Fawkes (Platt), who doesn’t seem to know what funny actually is but knows for certain that he’s not it. His journey to understanding or acceptance or even surrender could be the foundation for another depressed-comedian narrative, but writer/director Chelsom has more he wants to explore: the ramifications of infidelity, the unforgivable crime of joke theft, the nature of Blackpool as a dying resort for acts of questionable merit, and even a crime thriller about the theft of valuable treasures from a group of French gangsters. When the film introduces a Chinese powder with the power of youthful regeneration, you may earnestly wonder if it’s about to take a hard left turn into science fiction. Funny Bones is impressively patient with the many storylines it wants to explore, but that also means nothing takes priority, so the “B” plots and “C” plots occupy as much screentime as the ostensible central story. It’s an approach that may work well for a television season, but less so for a two-hour feature.

Part of what makes Funny Bones such a peculiar watch is trying to decipher how it actually feels about comedy. On the one hand there’s Tommy, who has absolutely the wrong act for a featured spot in Vegas, but who tries to rectify the situation by auditioning a series of “Britain’s Got Talent” rejects. Jack, who we are expected to believe was utterly devastated by an incident with an overly aggressive scene partner and is allegedly so broken as to be almost unable to communicate, is his polar opposite (Jack’s first appearance is on a dangerous perch atop Blackpool Tower, where the community leaders think he might be a risk to himself.) Nevertheless, we see him excel in multiple forms of performance; he has a quick wit (when asked if he has lived in Blackpool all his life, he responds, “Not yet”), he delivers a wild lip-sync routine, and finishes with circus acrobatics. There’s a hint that Jack’s approach to humor is pure, a notion either affirmed or contradicted by the casting of Jerry Lewis as a physical comedian who hits it big as a joke-teller. In any case, Tommy’s supposed to learn something at the end of all this, and the movie may not have a clear sense of what that lesson ought to be. He has spent the film confidently predicting his own demise, both onstage and in real life. The film suggests he is wrong, but exactly why is not at all clear.

Funny Bones revels in its English-ness, from the idealization of the penny-ante human tricks that make up the Blackpool entertainment scene to the extremely low-key reactions to even the most monumental events. A heist from a mortuary delineates the difference between the English and American responses. (I also have to call out the sheer audacity of casting both British film stalwarts Richard Griffiths and Ian McNiece, actors whom I have spent far too much time mistaking for one another.) It is a curious little drama played out on the field of comedy. I actually respect the variety of interesting people the film introduces, and the Trojan Horse-tactic of sneaking a look at a lost way of life through the door by way of a big, brassy American character study. I just don’t think it works. Most comedians would tell you that the further away you go from your premise, the harder the punchline will hit when you bring it all back. Funny Bones, however, just keeps winding away, going wherever it will, but not really getting anywhere in particular.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…it plays like a production that was, at one point, granted complete creative freedom to pursue any bit of whimsy and grotesquerie it wanted to find. The final cut is a collision of tones and ideas, but it remains distinct in its intent to be unpredictable and oddly sincere, hunting for the meaning of family and emotional stability in the mine field of professional comedy…Daddy issues are vivid in ‘Funny Bones,’ but they’re soon eclipsed by the weirdness of Blackpool…” – Brian Orndorf, Blu-ray.com

(This movie was nominated for review by Jonathan Allen. Suggest a weird movie of your own here.)         

Funny Bones

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    KEN RUSSELL’S VALENTINO (1977)

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    Of all the star-worshiping that went on during silent cinema, the obsession with Rudolph Valentino is the most mystifying today. When he died prematurely, at the age of 31, numerous fans were so distraught as to commit suicide. His funeral was besieged by thousands, and a legend was born when a mysterious lady in black began annually placing funeral wreaths on his tomb for decades to come. Valentino had such an impact on pop culture that he influenced everyone from to .

    Yet today, there are relatively few Valentino film festivals or revivals, and when his films are seen (rarely), they will inevitably prove disappointments. Valentino never made a great film. In fact, most of them are dreadful. (In his defense, he didn’t make very many). Of course, someone will inevitably make the tiresome 21st century claim that this is true of most movies from the silent era, despite the fact that there are plenty of films from that period that have good writing, performances, direction and hold up even better than many films of the Fifties and later. We could attempt to produce examples of stellar acting in lesser films, however, this does not work with Valentino. Although his charisma scorches, his acting is extreme in its use of silent film cliches, mechanical and bizarrely exaggerated to the degree that it elicits amusement today as opposed to the near orgasmic reaction of his contemporaneous fans. Undeniably eroticized, his screen persona was also amoral; he was a rapist. Otherworldly, he doesn’t even seem human, which is perhaps why he is primarily known by name alone. It’s doubtful if many today would even recognize his image.

    Rudloph Valentino
    Rudloph Valentino as “The Sheik”

    Sometimes, the reason for stardom is more for a colorful biography than an actual body of work (e.g. Tallulah Bankhead), but this isn’t necessarily the case with Valentino. His biographers contradict each other with bullet point details, which is to be expected since the star’s press kit was largely fiction. What we do know is that he was born in Italy and immigrated to the United States in 1913 looking for employment. Some reports have him working as a male prostitute, but that is widely disputed as well. He bussed tables and briefly found work as a taxi driver, which is how he met actor Norman Kerry, who convinced Valentino to try a career in the new cinema business. Valentino became an “overnight” star with 1921’s Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (although he had been doing small parts as exotic heavies in film for seven years), became a superstar with The Sheik later that same year, and became Continue reading KEN RUSSELL’S VALENTINO (1977)