The Runner Stumbles (1979)

          The final film directed by self-appointed cinematic moralist Stanley Kramer, this peculiar drama presents a sensationalistic story in a manner that ranges from absurdly lighthearted to absurdly overwrought. To be fair, most scenes occupy a palatable middle ground of rationality and restraint. Nonetheless, the extremes define this piece, as does the suffocating artificiality that permeates every scene, whether the scene in question is bad, good, or indifferent. To get a sense of why this picture is simultaneously respectable and ridiculous, The Runner Stumbles stars jovial song-and-dance man Dick Van Dyke as a middle-aged priest suspected of not only sleeping with a pretty young nun, but also of murdering her—not exactly “Chim Chim Cher-ee” territory. And when Ray Bolger, the Scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz (1939), shows up to represent the full weight of religious authority, The Runner Stumbles approaches self-parody.

          Set in a remote part of Michigan circa 1911, and based loosely upon a true story, the picture begins with Father Rivard (Van Dyke) fetching his parish’s latest addition, fresh-faced Sister Rita (Kathleen Quinlan), from a transit station. They strike sparks immediately, because she’s challenging and curious while he’s a bundle of conflicts—on one hand, he’s a stickler for rules and tradition since he’s tired of fighting the church establishment, and on the other hand, he’s a passionate freethinker who once imagined a more important destiny for himself. Rita’s attitude represents a bracing change from the two sickly older nuns she was hired to assist, and Rita soon raises eyebrows by teaching secular songs to local children. Later, when the older nuns contract tuberculosis, Rivard suggest that Rita move into his residence, thereby separating her from contagions. This scandalizes everyone involved, from Rivard’s devout housekeeper, Mrs. Shandig (Maureen Stapleton), to the monsignor with authority over Rivard’s parish, Nicholson (Bolger). The fraught scenario climaxes in a noisy final act comprising a fire, illicit sex, and a trial shot through with venomous accusations. Framing the main storyline is a recurring courtroom sequence featuring Rivard—incarcerated on suspicion of murder after Rita’s body is discovered—receiving counsel from his inexperienced young lawyer, Toby Felker (Beau Bridges).

          Excepting Bridges’ loose and naturalistic work, everything about The Runner Stumbles is old-fashioned and sterile. Quinlan plays her role like Shirley Temple with mood swings, utterly failing to make Rita’s dangerous instability seem credible. Van Dyke is equally stiff in many scenes, though he paints colors of bitterness and rage with surprising skill. Unfortunately, Van Dyke is so broad and theatrical during the film’s crucial trial scene that he undercuts his few good moments elsewhere. That’s why the abrupt and unsatisfying ending doesn’t really matter: It’s just one more false note in an atonal symphony.

The Runner Stumbles: FUNKY

I Never Promised You a Rose Garden (1977)

          A lurid psych-ward melodrama produced by Roger Corman in one of his more ambitious moments, I Never Promised You a Rose Garden suffers from schizophrenia, just like its leading character. On one level, the picture is a fairly serious examination of the troubles facing an unbalanced young woman as she seeks to end a cycle of delusions, hysterical episodes, and self-destructive impulses. On another level, the picture is as sensationalistic as an old Sam Fuller flick, because the filmmakers unwisely attempt to depict the imaginary realm that the protagonist visits whenever her mind departs everyday reality. Moreover, the filmmakers’ idea of hard-hitting drama skews toward undisciplined actors performing freak-show antics at top volume, with endless repetition the name of the game. Add in nudity and rape scenes, and I Never Promised You a Rose Garden ends up resembling Corman’s typical drive-in fare, instead of evoking the movie upon which this picture was obviously modeled, Milos Forman’s extraordinary One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (1975). Thanks to sincere work by leading lady Kathleen Quinlan and supporting actress Bibi Andersson, I Never Promised You a Rose Garden isn’t completely awful, though it comes close at regular intervals.

          The simple story revolves around Deborah Blake (Quinlan), a disturbed young woman who is admitted to a psychiatric hospital following a suicide attempt. In quiet scenes, she does talking-and-listening therapy with the stalwart Dr. Fried (Andersson). In not-so-quiet scenes, Deborah suffers epic delusions of belonging to some imaginary primitive tribe. Deborah also witnesses the extreme behavior of fellow patients, and the nastiest narrative thread concerns orderlies who rape patients with impunity. The script, credited to idiosyncratic filmmaker Lewis John Carlino and Hollywood wit Gavin Lambert, is a mess in terms of tone, though director Anthony Page and co-producer Daniel H. Blatt must shoulder some of the blame. (Joanna Greenberg, who wrote the novel upon which the film was based, reportedly hated the way her work was adapted.) While Quinlan’s uneven work is tethered to the chaotic storytelling, costars Sylvia Sidney and Susan Tyrell thrive on the picture’s gonzo energy; Sidney’s work has a touch of black comedy, and Tyrell’s inhibited performance seems like a transmission from another universe. I Never Promised You a Rose Garden is far too tawdry to take seriously, so it’s unsurprising that Greenberg tried to reclaim the material by cooperating with the creation of a 2004 stage adaptation of her book. Almost anything would be an improvement over this version.

I Never Promised You a Rose Garden: FUNKY

The Promise (1979)

          When the maudlin blockbuster Love Story (1970) reminded the world just how much blatant emotional manipulation audiences could withstand, a tearjerker renaissance was inevitable. Yet by the end of the ’70s, movies in the vein of Ice Castles (1978) and The Promise—both of which feature treacly theme songs crooned by Melissa Manchester—were rapidly approaching self-parody thanks to absurd plots and cheap endeavors to pluck viewers’ heartstrings. So, while The Promise is not to be taken seriously, it’s a certain kind of movie that’s almost guaranteed to touch a certain kind of viewer. Perceived with more critical eyes, the picture’s quite unsatisfactory on a narrative level, redeemed only by appealing production values and sincere performances.

          Fresh-faced Stephen Collins stars as Michael, a rich college senior who is in love with Nancy (Kathleen Quinlan), an artist who was abandoned as a child and raised by nuns. Michael’s overbearing mother, Marion (Beatrice Straight), forbids the couple to marry. Then the young lovers get into a horrible auto accident. Michael falls into a brief coma but otherwise sustains only minor injuries. Nancy, meanwhile, suffers catastrophic facial lacerations. So, while Michael is still comatose, Marion offers Nancy an odd bargain—Marion will pay for Nancy’s reconstructive surgery if Nancy promises never to see Michael again. Predictably, the story then contrives to reunite the lovers years later. Michael doesn’t immediately recognize Nancy, who is living under a new name, because Marion told him Nancy died. Anyway, all of this goes exactly where you might expect, with virtually nothing that could qualify as a surprise happening along the way.

          Director Gilbert Cates, who made a handful of offbeat dramas at the beginning of the ’70s, does what he can to infuse The Promise with actual emotion. He prudently employs extensive location photography, letting vivid places up and down the California coast provide a level of reality that’s lacking from the script. Cates also makes the best of a second-string cast, drawing smooth work from such undistinguished players as Bibi Besch and Laurence Luckinbill. As the film’s villain, Straight tries to play her one-dimensional character with a measure of vulnerability. Meanwhile, Quinlan moves through a full spectrum of emotions; in fact the story regularly twists and turns just to provide fodder for her character’s “moments.” Leading man Collins probably comes off best, for even though his character is a bit of a dope, Collins doesn’t slip into excessive histrionics or waterworks. The Promise isn’t much of a movie, but it’s a glossy presentation from actors and filmmakers who know exactly what audience reaction they’re trying to elicit.

The Promise: FUNKY

Lifeguard (1976)

Based on its title alone, to say nothing of the film’s wretched poster, Lifeguard should be a sleazy sex comedy. But instead, it’s a somewhat well-observed character piece about an iconoclastic man wrestling with other people’s perceptions of his prolonged-adolescent lifestyle. Sam Elliot, his signature sweet ’stache already firmly secured on his upper lip, plays Rick, an L.A. lifeguard in his 30s, making him a good ten years older than most of the other dudes running up and down Southern California’s beaches in little red shorts. Over the course of one summer, he trains a young apprentice (Parker Stevenson), dallies with a precocious teenager (Kathleen Quinlan), tries to rekindle an old spark with his high-school girlfriend (Anne Archer), and listens to family and friends who say it’s time to put away the SPF and get a real job. There’s a touch of raunchiness here and there (sexy flings at Rick’s bachelor pad, pervy teenage boys chasing busty women at the beach), but Ron Koslow’s competent script mostly focuses on Rick’s sun-kissed ennui, manifesting in solid scenes like the vignette of the protagonist getting his aging ass kicked by younger lifeguards in a running/swimming race. Rest assured there’s a kitsch factor (two words: theme song), and Rick’s I-gottta-be-me attitude is pretty damn ’70s, so it’s not as if Lifeguard takes the high road at every step, but like its title character, the movie displays unexpected depth. Koslow, by the way, later wrote the charmingly weird comedy Into the Night (1984) and created the supernatural series Beauty and the Beast and Moonlight.

Lifeguard: FUNKY