1980 Week: Little Darlings

          Despite being utterly conventional in terms of storytelling and technical execution, Little Darlings is unusual because it presents a sensationalistic premise without lapsing into vulgarity. Yet the film cannot be described as sophisticated, because the characterizations are one-dimensional and the picture often gets mired in nonsense along the lines of uninspired physical comedy. So perhaps the best way to describe Little Darlings is to say that it’s not nearly as offensive as it could have been, given the confluence of juvenile actors and salacious subject matter. Set at a typical American summer camp for girls, the film revolves around the tense relationship between Angel (Kristy McNichol), the chain-smoking tomboy daughter of a promiscuous single mother, and Ferris (Tatum O’Neal), the naïve and pretentious daughter of a wealthy couple undergoing a separation as a prelude to divorce. The instant the young ladies meet each other on the bus headed for camp, they hate each other. Upon their arrival in the woods, both girls inadvertently reveal to bitchy beauty Cinder (Krista Errickson) that they’re virgins, so Cinder takes bets on whether Angel or Ferris will be the first to have sex over the course of the summer.

          Angel happens upon Randy (Matt Dillon), a tough kid attending a nearby boy’s camp, while Ferris sets her sights on Gary (Armand Assante), a grown-up counselor at the girls’ camp. The picture unfolds in a lighthearted manner, with brightly lit scenes set to a thumping pop soundtrack featuring tunes by Blondie and the Cars (among other Top 40 acts of the era) until the climactic scene when one of the girls consummates her flirtation with the man she’s chosen. That sequence is handled with restraint and even a kind of unvarnished reverence, thereby elevating the rest of the otherwise pedestrian movie by association. McNichol, who gained fame on the ’70s TV series Family, and O’Neal, who earned an Oscar for her screen debut in Paper Moon (1973), work on different levels—McNichols’ performance is raw and vulnerable, whereas O’Neal plays a amiable caricature. Assante mostly seems as if he’s struggling to avoid looking embarrassed, and Dillon exhibits the brooding quality that made him a star just a few years later, complementing the fine work he does in another 1980 release, My Bodyguard.

Little Darlings: FUNKY

My Old Man (1979)

          My Old Man is the second feature adapted from the early Ernest Hemingway short story of the same name. (The tale previously reached the big screen in 1950, bearing the title Under My Skin and starring John Garfield.) For this version, which was made for television, ubiquitous late-’70s child actor Kristy McNichol was cast as Jo Butler, a teenaged tomboy whose beloved mother dies, compelling her to spend a summer with the father she’s never known, low-rent horse trainer/gambler Frank Butler. Playing the dad is big-screen veteran Warren Oates, best known for his tough-guy roles in Sam Peckinpah pictures. These two make an interesting combination. McNichol, never a great actor but certainly better here than one might expect, is just rough enough around the edges to seem quasi-credible as Oates’ offspring. Oates, meanwhile, showcases his usual ragged screen persona, making the challenge McNichol faces in trying to pierce his shell seem believable. Alas, acting alone does not a good movie make, and My Old Man is weak in every other regard.

          The teleplay by Jerome Kass is trite, contriving a wheezy narrative around the idea of Frank and Jo bonding while they train a long-shot horse. Kass puts Frank into a believable but one-dimensional romance with Marie (Eileen Brennan), a plain-Jane waitress, which (predictably) makes Jo lash out with teen angst. Worse, the movie slips into tearjerker territory when Frank suffers an injury, making the last act of the movie uncomfortably similar to that of an underwhelming 1979 big-screen release, The Champ. Pushing the movie even further into mediocrity is pedestrian direction by John Erman: Although he handles actors well, his images are amateurish and clumsy. Nonetheless, in addition to good work by the leads, the movie has some minor virtues: My Old Man was shot on location at the Saratoga race course in upstate New York, lending some authenticity, and offbeat actors Michael Jeter and Howard Rollins Jr. make early appearances.

My Old Man: FUNKY

The End (1978)

          As written by TV veteran Jerry Belson and directed by Burt Reynolds, who also stars in the picture, The End is a nervy endeavor digging for jokes in the unlikely milieus of insanity, suicide, and terminal disease. The End is also among Reynolds’ most worthwhile ’70s movies, because instead of the car chases and redneck raunchiness that dominated much of his output during the era, The End features character-driven black comedy. At the beginning of the movie, Sonny Lawson (Reynolds) enjoys middle-class success and endures middle-class tribulations: His infidelities scuttled his marriage to Jessica (Joanne Woodward); he’s struggling to maintain a bond with his adolescent daughter, Julie (Kristy McNichol); and he’s confused about his relationship with a free-spirited young woman, Mary Ellen (Sally Field). So, when Sonny gets diagnosed with a terminal disease, he decides to kill himself rather than suffer a lingering demise.

          Belson’s droll script examines the various ways different people respond to Sonny’s decision; the script also features gentle moments with characters Sonny doesn’t bring into his confidence, like his amiably bickering parents (played by Myrna Loy and Pat O’Brien). Then, after Sonny botches his first suicide attempt, he gets thrown into an asylum and befriends a homicidal wacko, Marlon (Dom DeLuise), who becomes obsessed with helping Sonny shuffle off this mortal coil. Making a big creative jump forward from his directorial debut, the Southern-fried action flick Gator (1976), Reynolds shows a flair for light comedy, building elegant pacing and helping actors find easy rapport.

          He also does some of his very best comedic acting, pouring on the self-deprecating charm as a stud-turned-wimp who weeps when he gets his diagnosis and cringes at the idea of pain. His enjoyable turn is complemented by several deft supporting performances: comedy pros Norman Fell, Carl Reiner, and David Steinberg are sharp in small roles; Robby Benson has an entertaining cameo as an inexperienced priest; Field (Reynolds’ offscreen paramour at the time) does her patented cute-and-sexy routine; Loy and O’Brien are a hoot; and Woodward effectively softens her usual suburban-harridan persona. DeLuise is hilarious in his first few scenes, but then overcompensates once his character slips into repetitive behavior. Plus, the movie itself loses energy as it nears the climax. However, Reynolds’ last big scene, an anguished negotiation with God played mostly as a voice-over monologue, concludes the movie in high style.

The End: GROOVY