spartanbuff
Last night we watched a movie that was positively a revelation: 1966's Mister Buddwing.Starring James Garner, Angela Lansbury, Suzanne Pleshette, Jean Simmons, and Katharine Ross, this offbeat, downright innovative MGM movie, directed by Delbert Mann, received universally condemning reviews, which persist to this day; the exceptions to this effect are those who understood and embraced it, me included. Reviewers on IMDb, TCM, and DVD-review sites either are enthralled with love for it, or they regard it with scornful contempt. It has become something of a cult classic, I think, with good reason: it is fixating, surreal, and arresting all at once. I have never seen anything like it, especially from this time period. In fact, I'd say it was *before* its time, even during the looming jadedness of the late 1960s. It is one of those enticingly strange and weird movies that throws you off the plot-beaten path in the most intensely curious, absorbing way.Garner himself in his book, "The Garner Files" summed it up thusly: "I'd summarize the plot, but to this day, I have no clue what it is. Worst picture I ever made. What were they thinking? What was *I* thinking?"I think Garner either found the role too uncomfortably unfamiliar to really connect with, which is about a man riddled with severe PTSD after a traumatic event in his life. It also could be that the role required too much internally of the notoriously private Garner, who usually played sardonic, wise-cracking types, to tap into and portray deeply troubling emotions; I have never seen this side of him in any role he's ever played - and, being a fan, I've seen most of his movies. The story begins with a subjective-camera view of Garner waking up in New York City's Central Park, with no memory of who he is or where he belongs. Confused and terribly addled, he stumbles around helplessly into situations with utter terror. Trying to create an identity for himself, he simultaneously sees a Budweiser truck and an airplane; therefore he becomes Mister Buddwing (see, I told you it is weird). Buddwing first encounters a kind hearted, slatternly floozie, played by Lansbury. Then he gets involved with 3 women at random, all of whom he thinks is a woman named Grace: first a naive college student played by Ross; then a beatnik actress played by Pleshette; and lastly, with a flaky, boozy socialite played by Simmons. Along the way there are unsettling and tense encounters with other assorted characters, all of them memorably enacted. During his scenes with all of these women, Buddwing imagines flashbacks of lives he thinks he shared with them, with some overlapping similarities running through each plot, and certain elements that seem to provide clues as to his identity and existence.I won't divulge the ending, for those who want to see it, but it is actually rather low-key, and not the wham-bang surprise you'd ordinarily expect; rather, it fittingly resolves the premise.It has been said that Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, which opened a few months earlier than Mister Buddwing, paved the way for frank subject matter in movies. Really?This movie deals with severe mental trauma, themes of suicide, abortion, and even, in one brief instance, a shockingly cynical view of racial matters. The technical aspects are top-notch: the moody, atmospheric black-and-white cinematography, by Ellsworth Fredericks, is artful and marvelously effective: it depicts not just the psychological darkness of the tale, but it shows the seedier parts of New York City already in decline, littered, dilapidated, and forbidding - this is the pre-Midnight Cowboy, foreshadowing of the 1970s grimness of the place.The jazz score, by Kenyon Hopkins, who was one of the most talented and unheralded of screen composers, is superbly evocative and which accentuates the images and situations with keen underlining; and besides, is a pleasure to the ear - it's first-class music, all told. In fact, this movie could very well be a 100-minute episode of The Twilight Zone. Its themes of alienation in an urban setting, a man placed in a hellish maelstrom of existential terror - is exactly the kind of subject Rod Serling favored in his series.The performances are all unforgettable. Lansbury, with a role that is lamentably too brief, is as usual, vivid, engaging, and sympathetic. Pleshette and Simmons, though, are excitingly outstanding, and they play their roles with absolute relish and conviction; both the characters are seriously off-kilter and unbalanced, and the two actresses positively revel in their portrayals. Garner, though, is simply amazing. Handsome as ever, he gives a harrowing, thoroughly engaged performance, really depicting the guy's terror-stricken desperation with almost unbearable intensity. Moreover, he's not only relatable, but is both empathetic and sympathetic: you *feel* his forlorn state, as Buddwing simply doesn't know who he is or where he belongs, and his sheer helplessness is truly pitiable. Garner takes you inside a world that has a bottomless abyss in his character's mind. It is, all told, an Academy Award-winning caliber of a performance. No wonder this movie failed to connect with a mass audience: it's too unsettling and disturbing.
fung0
I'm not surprised to see mixed reviews for this odd, artsy and challenging film. I only caught it by accident, as part of the day-long tribute to James Garner aired by TCM a few days after he'd passed away. Despite being a life-long fan of Garner, this was a film I'd missed. When it started, I didn't even know what it was. For the first few minutes, I didn't know it starred Garner.This turned out to be an extremely fortuitous way to experience Mister Buddwing. I was enthralled by the visual style even before I knew what I was watching. As the narrative evolved, I became even more enthralled. This is a miraculously good film - perhaps not perfect, but so audacious it really deserves a 10 out of 10. (And I hand them out *very* grudgingly.)There are many things to enjoy here, but I'll focus on just three aspects of the film.First and foremost, there's the magnificent black and white photography of New York City in the 1960s. It works both as pure composition and as a visual tribute to the 'old' New York, that dark, grimy one that was already fading into history when this film was made. I'd say this film does New York at least as well as Woody Allen's Manhattan, and in support of a far more clever drama. (I'm a huge Allen fan, but I see Manhattan as one of his rare failures - aside from the photography.)Second, there's the clever structure. Some reviews have noted that it does work like a stage play. But in a good way. The story progresses by a series of repeated approximations. Several different women all serve as surrogates for Buddwing's lost love, Grace. Each portrays a different aspect of this phantom lady, and each helps to flesh out a different aspect of Buddwing's life - both for him and for us. Bits of dialog echo from one version to another. Mirrors play an important role, accentuating the reverberations. This film is as good a cinematic simulation of a drug trip, or a lucid dream, as you're going to find. You really start to feel that there's a memory that's just escaping you, a reality that you can't quite recapture.Third, there are the performances. Angela Lansbury deserves special credit for her frowsy blonde, an uncharacteristic part that reminds us of this lady's true acting prowess. The other women are all excellent, in their own ways. Suzanne Pleshette is adorable, Katharine Ross at her most wholesomely appealing, and Jean Simmons at her most acidic. Jack Gilford has a wonderful bit as "Mr. Schwartz," and George Voskovec is perfect as 'God.' ("You're crazier than I am," wails Garner.)Hollywood rarely creates this kind of 'art' film. Mister Buddwing could be slipped into a Fellini, or Antonioni or Bergman retrospective, without seeming out of place. But where so many 'art' films are merely 'arty', Mister Buddwing gets it right. It's got human drama, wit and enormous style. It's not merely vague, or obscure; it's visionary. It's about something.In short, I can't recommend this film highly enough. Don't expect The Thrill of It All, or Maverick, or Murphy's Romance. Think of Mister Buddwing as a more-romantic companion to 36 Hours. Or a 1960s equivalent of Forest Gump. This is clearly intended as a film about redemption, not of just one man, but of an entire generation that was just awakening to the realization that it had lost its way.
wes-connors
Groggy and well-suited, James Garner wakes up in New York City's Central Park with two pills and a phone number in his pocket. Before you can say, "Been there, done that," note Mr. Garner also has amnesia. He decides to call himself "Sam Budweiser" after calling the phone number, seeing a Budweiser beer truck, then a plane. Garner first visits floozy Angela Lansbury (as Gloria). She thinks her drunken husband gave Garner the phone number for a good time. The pills are not explained. In succession, Garner encounters pretty young Katharine Ross (as Janet), sexy actress Suzanne Pleshette (as Fiddle), and blonde lush Jean Simmons - driven on screen by ex-"Dead End" kid Billy Halop! Claiming to be twenty-five years old, "Sam Buddwing" meets several other interesting New Yorkers. Garner is recognized as Jewish by cracker Jack Gilford (as Mr. Schwartz). Shabby old man George Voskovec thinks Garner's a paranoid schizophrenic. Before playing biker Buzz on "Dark Shadows" (1967), counterperson Michael Hadge believes Garner's problems to be psychosomatic. Loved it when Ms. Pleshette tells him, "We'll be tigers and we'll drink blood." You also get Nichelle Nichols tossing dice before her "Star Trek". This could have been a quirky classic with someone like George Segal or Sal Mineo in the lead. Garner needs to play something closer to home, and with a little humor.***** Mister Buddwing (7/15/66) Delbert Mann ~ James Garner, Jean Simmons, Suzanne Pleshette, Katharine Ross
