Okay, here's the deal. A long time ago, I saw an man do something on TV that absolutely floored me. It was late one Saturday night. This cheesy lounge singer guy sang the theme music from Star Wars. I mean, he made up words to the Star Wars theme music, and sang 'em. I laughed 'til I soiled myself. And that's how I found out about Bill Murray.
At one time, he was the junior member of the "Not Ready For Prime Time Players," behind Chase, Belushi, Aykroyd, and Radner. And, gradually, the others went off in search of movie careers. Chase dashed to Hollywood first, scoring a hit with Foul Play and eroding gradually toward his current status as America's stiffest comedy has-been. Belushi was a shooting star that fell too soon, leaving his sideman Aykroyd to bounce from hit to miss and back again more times than we can count. Poor Gilda never got a chance to shine on the big screen at all, a tragic waste for a woman who might just have been too talented for movies. But Bill marched right out to the coast and grabbed the brass ring -- becoming a bonafide movie star, whose light still shines some 20 years later.
In choosing his roles, Murray established a pattern with Meatballs and Caddyshack, alternating from headliner to supporting character, a trend he's continued to this day. It serves him well, letting him drop the burden of stardom at times, and helping him avoid the mistake of repition (an approach that Chase and Aykroyd should take to heart.) And it's those supporting roles, like the one as Dustin Hoffman's playwright roomie, Jeff, in Tootsie, that I still rank as his funniest. He made a mint for Columbia with Ghostbusters, and after the requisite "serious actor" turn in The Razor's Edge, he killed us with a quick chop as the pain-lovin' dental patient in Little Shop of Horrors. Think of all his "big" pictures -- Stripes, What About Bob?, Groundhog Day-- and you've got just as many dead-on supporting parts on the resume: Ed Wood, Kingpin, Space Jam.
Well, his latest effort, The Man Who Knew Too Little, puts him back in the driver's seat for a while, showcasing what Murray does best, reacting to the situations around him with as much sarcasm and relish as is needed to make the point. In a way, it's the best of both Bills, a bunch of little character parts, woven together into a headlining role.
In the new film directed by Jon Amiel (Copycat), Bill plays a video clerk named Wallace who jets to London to spend his birthday with his brother (Peter Gallagher). But his brother, a banker, is busy with an important business dinner, so he signs up Wallace for a thing called "Theatre of Life," an experimental performance-art thing where actors and real people play out dramatic scenes in and around the fair city. Well, by accident, Wallace is mistaken for a hit man, and thrown into some real-life intrigue that he thinks is just part of the show.
If this whole thing sounds a bit contrived, you're wrong. It's a lot contrived. This is a farce of huge proportions, elaborate and detailed to the point of absurdity. And it could have been easily overblown to the point of stupidity. But the magic is in the consistency of the Wallace character. He honestly thinks everyone's in on the act, and he's having the time of his life. Jon Amiel and screenwriters Howard Franklin and Robert Farrar make the wise choice of keeping the character in total denial rather than having him catch on to the fact that he's in real danger. If the character smartens up, the movie becomes a silly "duck-out-of-water" Richard Grieco flop.
And, lest I forget, this movie would probably stiff without the masterful Murray. There's no one else out there that can play the loopy outsider better. His comedy comes from his ability to offer a twisted outlook for any situation, whether it be spirits rising from the dead, the sansabelt set of a country club, or being trapped in rodent town for all eternity.
There's no way I can describe any of the situations to you without ruining a joke, and, unlike other critics you might read, I refuse to spill a secret for the sake of word count. Let's just say this -- don't get up for that Coke refill or Coke purge, 'cause if you leave your seat for even a moment, you'll miss a good chuckle.
I cannot declare this thing perfect, though. It takes a bit of patience to get through the set-up, and Joanne Whalley is fairly one-dimensional as the "love interest." On the other hand, Alfred Molina is memorable as Boris the Butcher, an Eastern block torture meister, and the rest of the cast is adept in brief moments, giving way to what is essentially a one-man show...and a great show at that.
If you watch Bill Murray on film, you can always see when he's having fun. It shows in his timing, it shows in his mannerisms, and it shows in the quality of the film. Everything's easy when Bill's having fun, and, folks, let me tell you, everything's easy here.
Copyrighted image courtesy of New Regency.
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