1980 Week: Saturn 3

          One of the strangest projects to emerge from the post-Star Wars sci-fi boom, this British production featuring American leading actors is part adventure saga, part horror show, part love story, and part mystery thriller. It also features one of the most unlikely combinations of stars in movie history: Aging he-man Kirk Douglas shares the screen with sun-kissed TV beauty Farrah Fawcett and New York-trained Method actor Harvey Keitel. That is, unless one counts the hulking robot who features prominently in the story as a costar. Set in the future, the picture begins when a mystery man kills a fellow space pilot in order to commandeer a shuttle delivering supplies to a scientific outpost on one of Saturn’s moons. The sole occupants of the outpost are Adam (Douglas), who is tasked with growing crops because Earth can no longer manufacture sufficient food, and Adam’s assistant/lover, Alex (Fawcett). Her origins are never made clear, though the implication is that she was provided to Adam as a sexual plaything. When the mystery man arrives, he reveals himself as Benson (Keitel), and says that his mission is to build a robot that can increase productivity at Saturn 3 (the name of the outpost).

          Adam and Alex are rattled by the change to their status quo, since they dig their quiet life—and who can blame them, since they seem to spend more time changing costumes and having sex than they do conducting experiments. Eventually, Adam and Alex realize that Benson is a psycho. Their first clue is when Benson jabs a metallic probe into a slot that he’s installed in the back of his neck, and uses it to psychically control the robot. Benson causes even more trouble when he announces his desire to sleep with Alex. Before long, things devolve into full-on violence once the robot gains a degree of autonomy, so Adam and Alex have to deal with two predators at once.

          Unlikely as it may seem, Saturn 3 was directed by Stanley Donen of Singin’ in the Rain fame, and to say that he’s got no feel for horror and/or sci-fi is to make a great understatement. Although certain individual scenes are handled well enough, including the introduction of Benson’s psychic link with the robot and a lengthy chase sequence, Donen fails to generate credibility or tension. Things in Saturn 3 just sort of happen, and Donen seems far more concerned with showing off the film’s elaborate production design than with telling a proper story. (Incredibly, the script was penned by acclaimed British novelist Martin Amis.) It doesn’t help that the acting is awful or that impatient editing rushes the story along at a distractingly frenetic pace.

          Douglas was well into the self-parody phase of his career, Fawcett seems as if she was lobotomized before filming, and Keitel—whose voice was replaced with that of another actor during postproduction—gives a more robotic performance than the actual robot. Nonetheless, fans of vintage sci-fi will find many things to enjoy, thanks to the colorful visuals and the surprising incidents of extreme violence. Plus, seeing as how the story ultimately becomes completely nonsensical, it’s possible to watch Saturn 3 as an accidental comedy. (There’s a reason why the picture earned three Razzie Award nominations.) Oh, and for those who fall under Saturn 3’s weird spell—or for those who simply crave another chance to ogle the lovely Ms. Fawcett—it’s worth surfing the Web for an infamous deleted scene featuring Douglas and Fawcett simulating a sexy drug trip, because Douglas’ goofy acting is as stunning as Fawcett’s slutty costume.

Saturn 3: FUNKY

The Little Prince (1974)

          Although I managed to pass through childhood without any exposure to the story, I’ve learned that French author/aviator Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s fantastical novella The Little Prince is one of the most successful and widely read children’s stories of the 20th century. I mention this by way of stating that I approached this film adaptation without any feelings toward the source material, so others can hold forth on whether the picture does justice to de Saint-Exupéry’s writing. Watching the film of The Little Prince as its own entity, I found little to like despite the imaginative narrative and worthwhile themes. Director Stanley Donen, a giant of studio-era musical films whose career was winding down when he made The Little Prince, brings a fair amount of style in the form of clever fisheye-lens photography and general exuberance, but the combination of coldly professional acting by the leading players and distractingly artificial settings for many scenes makes the piece feel perfunctory rather than passionate.

          It’s also not a good sign that when famed choreographer-director Bob Fosse shows up in a rare acting role, he completely takes over the film for several minutes with his signature brand of cinematic and physical movement; although merely credited as choreographer for his own sequence, Fosse likely had a hand in the design of camera shots and editing, as well, and his bit is the liveliest stretch of the movie.

          Anyway, the story of The Little Prince must lose something in translation, because as presented onscreen, it’s insipid. When a character known only as the Pilot (Richard Kiley) lands his plane in the Sahara after experiencing engine trouble, he meets a strange young boy, the Little Prince (Steven Warner), who claims to have come from an asteroid in outer space. The Little Prince regales the Pilot with tales of his encounters with strange characters, including a friendly Fox (Gene Wilder), a demanding Rose (Donna McKechnie), and a pernicious Snake (Fosse). Each encounter taught the Little Prince a lesson, and so does his friendship with the Pilot.

          As communicated through twee songs by the famed duo of Alan Jay Lerner (who also wrote the screenplay) and Frederick Loewe (who also composed the score), the Little Prince’s adventure says something about the importance of retaining a child’s innocence even in adult life. Yet while the content is admirable, the execution is blah. Exterior daytime scenes in the desert are visually dull, nighttime exterior scenes shot on a soundstage are phony-looking, and the tricks Donen uses to simulate outer-space environments are gimmicky. Yet it’s ultimately the performances that keep The Little Prince from achieving liftoff. Kiley, a lovely actor with a resonant voice, is too theatrical, and young Steven Warner comes across as an automaton doing what he’s told. So, even with Fosse’s dynamic dance sequence and Wilder’s touchy-feely extended cameo, there’s little heart in what should be a deeply moving parable.

The Little Prince: FUNKY

Movie Movie (1978)

          A gently satirical tribute to the corny double-features of Hollywood’s Golden Age, Movie Movie begins with a short introduction from George Burns, continues into a boxing picture called Dynamite Hands, shifts gears for a fake trailer, and concludes with a showbiz-themed musical called Baxter’s Beauties of 1933. Replicating the way contract players were rotated through interchangeable roles during the studio era, many actors appear in both features (and the fake trailer), with George C. Scott playing all the lead roles. As written by comedy pros Larry Gelbart and Sheldon Keller, Movie Movie cleverly spoofs every contrivance common to movies that were cranked out a weekly basis, from plots predicated on absurd coincidences to completely implausible happy endings.

          Many of the subtler jokes, like the gimmick of having the same actor (Art Carney) open both features by giving a dour medical prognosis that triggers the plot, may be lost on viewers who aren’t steeped in old-school Hollywood cinema. However, the very funny dialogue, which riffs on the way studio hacks used to jumble clichés and metaphors into a stew of verbal nonsense, is terrific even without knowing the context. One example: “It’s funny, isn’t it, how many times your guts can get slapped in the face.” Or: “With the woman you love at your side to stand behind your back, a man can move mountains with his bare heart.” One gets the impression Gelbart and Keller spent their youths groaning through lines like these every Saturday at the local movie palace, only to hurry back for more the next week; whereas some cinematic satires falter because contempt for the subject matter makes the comedy seem mean-spirited, Movie Movie shines because its humor stems from nostalgic affection. So, with venerable director Stanley Donen playing to his strong suit of smoothly choreographed light comedy, Movie Movie becomes first-rate escapist silliness.

          Of the two features, Dynamite Hands is marginally better because the focus is on delivering verbal gags and spoofing clichéd storytelling. However, Baxter’s Beauties of 1933 has song-and-dance numbers that Donen stages with his signature effervescence. Appearing in both features, Carney, Red Buttons, Trish Van Devere, and Eli Wallach have a blast sending up the mannered acting of studio-era hams. Scott manages to be sweetly affecting in his dual roles, as a gruff boxing trainer in the first picture and as a Broadway impresario in the second. Kathleen Beller, Harry Hamlin, and real-life Broadway hoofer Ann Reinking are featured in Dynamite Hands, while Rebecca York costars with Bostwick in Baxter’s Beauties. They all get into the spirit of the thing, investing their performances with golly-gee-whiz enthusiasm. Also working in Movie Movie’s favor is zippy pacing—two features, a trailer, an introduction, and credits get crammed into 105 fast-moving minutes.

Movie Movie: GROOVY

Lucky Lady (1975)

          Screenwriters Willard Huyck and Gloria Katz were hot after American Graffiti, scoring a huge purchase price for their screenplay Lucky Lady, which gene-spliced the music-driven ribaldry of Cabaret (1972) with the twisty plotting of The Sting (1973). An impressive roster of A-list talents converged on the project, including director Stanley Donen and the three stars billed above the title: Gene Hackman, Burt Reynolds, and Cabaret Oscar-winner Liza Minnelli. Cabaret vets working behind the camera include cinematographer Geoffrey Unsworth and songwriters Fred Ebb and John Kander. But even with all of this cinematic firepower, and a hefty budget of $13 million, Lucky Lady is little more than a well-made train wreck.

          The main problem is that expensive script, which puts three despicable characters into an icky housekeeping arrangement. After an unnecessarily convoluted set-up, Prohibition-era schemers Kibby (Hackman), Claire (Minnelli), and Walker (Reynolds) become rum-runners sailing their ship, the Lucky Lady, back and forth between Mexico and the U.S., chased by a homicidal Coast Guard captain (Geoffrey Lewis) and a ruthless fellow bootlegger (John Hillerman). Half of the picture is devoted to criminal intrigue, including several high-seas shootouts, so the movie’s frothy tone disappears whenever the story turns dark and violent, which is often. The other half of the picture is devoted to the farce of Kibby and Walker competing for Claire; she moves back and forth between their beds until all three finally sleep together. Why these two men are so excited by the abrasive Claire is as mystifying as why viewers are expected to care about any of them, since all three are deceitful, shallow, and tiresome. (Supporting player Robby Benson, as a Lucky Lady shipmate, adds the film’s only glimmer of sweetness.)

          With its painfully episodic structure, the movie feels much longer than its 118-minute running time, and Unsworth goes berserk with his signature haze filters, making some images almost indecipherable. The stars try valiantly to make the material work, with Reynolds thriving in his light-comedy métier and Minnelli belting out a few numbers, but aside from the production values and star power, there’s little to recommend in Lucky Lady.

Lucky Lady: LAME