Chapter Two: Chevy Chase
By Brett Beach
April 8, 2010
BoxOfficeProphets.com
"Here's some money. Go buy yourself a better tie. You look like a Pee-Wee Herman doll." - The single line from Caddyshack II that made me chuckle.
Thirty years later, I still can't explain why my five-year-old-self thought Chevy Chase was so badass. Was it his lovable loser-ness in films like Seems Like Old Times and Oh, Heavenly Dog? Did I identify with his aura of pre-possessed cool, which he somehow maintained even in the face of pratfalls and sight gags? Was there something comforting about that ridiculous chin and prominent mole? Perhaps it was all of these. My fear is that I was attracted to the impenetrable layers of irony he brought to most of his roles. At the height of his popularity in the 1980s, I don't believe there was a more ironic American actor. While Robin Williams, at his worst, could bring a movie to a grinding halt with uncalled for bits of standup and improv that he somehow smuggled into the moment, Chase, at his worst, seemed to be making every effort not to relate to the possible sincerity of any given moment in his films. In other words, what seemed like an ingratiating too-cool-for-school attitude once upon a time is now revealed as pure and utter assholery and contempt.
Given the context of the film, this could either be appropriate, in which case it might manage to come across as genius (Ty Webb, his beyond Zen golfer in Caddyshack, is a prime example), or it could be revealed as bilious contempt for the film, the audience and himself (his reprise of Ty Webb in Caddyshack II nails this perfectly). I think it would be accurate to say that Chase's two most well known and beloved characterizations are Irwin "Fletch" Fletcher in Fletch and Fletch Lives and Clark Wilhelm Griswold in National Lampoon's Vacation and several films since then (this being Chapter Two, I will focus on European Vacation).
A recent article in Entertainment Weekly celebrating the 25th anniversary of Fletch convincingly made a case for it as an under-rated comic gem. The case is well argued but this member of the jury still isn't buying it. I didn't catch it until it had been on home video for some time and I definitely saw Fletch Lives first but neither one struck me as excessively quotable or incessantly funny. Would my opinion change once I took another look at these three franchises, two of which feature his Ironic-ness quite prominently? One thing is for certain. My love for Vacation and Chase's portrayal of Griswold has not dimmed. This could be because of Harold Ramis' direction and John Hughes' script as much as anything. It could also be because Clark is in the long line of well meaning but doofus-y father figures best typified by, of all things, live-action films from the Walt Disney studio. (In writing this, it strikes me how much Vacation really is like an R-rated Disney film). For further clarification of what exactly I mean by all this, please to enjoy this week's stream-of-consciousness detours.
Making my way through a hodgepodge of Disney live action films recently (circa late ‘50s through late ‘70s), I notice a definite hierarchy of the actors who played father figures in these productions. In the upper echelon, there is Fred MacMurray (seven Disney productions), constantly befuddled but always kindly, even in his grumpier moments - most definitely the Absent Minded Paterfamilias. He was there early on in The Shaggy Dog (1959), which set the template for the Disney family formula: generational conflict (those darned kids and their hormones or, depending on the age of the child actors, their love of furry critters); the aforementioned furry critters (dogs/cats/lions/ducks most prominently) causing havoc; slapstick chases; and cartoonish bad guys winding up with paint or goo or some appropriately gunky substance drenching their person. MacMurray's late-career prominence in Disney films mirrored his 12-year stint on television's My Three Sons and established a Disney trend from those early decades of grabbing actors and actresses during their small-screen hiatuses and making films relatively cheaply.
Next there would be Dean Jones, who starred in nearly a dozen Disney films of the 1960s and 1970s as well numerous big and small screen remakes and continuations of these films (particularly The Love Bug) in the 1980s and 1990s. With a mega-watt smile and an "aw, shucks" demeanor, he could be sincere and dopey, often both at once. If Dean Jones could be considered a "poor man's Fred MacMurray" (meant as affectionately as possible), then Ken Berry would be the poor man's Dean Jones. Indeed, he only appeared in two Disney productions (the second Herbie film, where he actually took over the lead from Jones) and The Cat from Outer Space. Best known for long-running roles on F Troop, Mayberry R.F.D. and Mama's Family - none of which I can claim to have seen - he seemed like a cartoon variation on a generic leading man's good looks, which means he was ideal for sitcoms and kids' films.
Finally, there is Edward Herrmann, Emmy-award wining character actor (he played Franklin Delano Roosevelt in several well-received TV films of the 1970s) known to '80s teens as the head vampire in The Lost Boys and to the current generation of television viewers as Lorelai Gilmore's father. He only starred in one Disney film, 1979's The North Avenue Irregulars, but he made quite the impression as a) his features vaguely suggested those of my father's so it was like my dad was in the movie and b) this connection was furthered by the fact that Hermann played a single father and minister in the film and my dad, while not a proselyte by career, had briefly flirted with the seminary and occasionally filled in on Sundays at our Methodist congregation. Herrmann's role is actually secondary to those of the titular ladies, whom he recruits to help take down an illegal numbers racket, and per the Disney formula there is an epic slapstick car chase and lots of furry animals loose at the climax. He gets to ride a motorcycle, is robbed of his pants at one point, and is more or less required to be the straight man in a sea of insanity, which he pulls off quite nicely.
So this is all by way of suggesting what appealed to me about Chase in the first Vacation film and to acknowledge that there were moments in the early part of his career where he did opt for something different (Deal of the Century, Funny Farm, Memoirs of an Invisible Man) and that these films, whatever their flaws, were immeasurably improved by virtue of the fact that Chase showed up and gave a performance. I used to yearn for him to get a career resurgence from a director like Tarantino (if not the man himself) but became resigned to the fact that that was apparently not what Chase desired for himself and that he wasn't going to be rediscovered a la Michael Parks or Robert Forster.
There were some positive signs in recent years, however. He had a small but finely tuned supporting role as Naomi Watts' agent in the indie film Ellie Parker; a fiery and vulgar performance "inspired" by Mel Gibson's real-life police troubles, on Law and Order; and has returned to weekly television programming on NBC's "Community" playing the same sort of smug character he once did but with three decades of humility and humanity as compensation. I don't know if I would cite the show as a personal favorite, but I enjoy the depth of the comic ensemble and hey, any Joel McHale is better than no Joel McHale.
But now to turn back the clock to 1985, 1988 and 1989 when Chase was as hot as he would ever be at the box office and people actually clamored to see him in sequels. If nothing else, he had the good fortune to be associated with films that inspired great theme songs. Kenny Loggins contributed "I'm Alright" to Caddyshack and "Nobody's Fool" to Caddyshack II (and in-between delivered classic '80s pop for films with storylines about small towns that ban dancing, Navy pilots with big egos and bigger planes, and a truck-driving neglectful dad who risks the love of his son on an arm-wrestling match. That's quite the range). Lindsey Buckingham penned the shoulda-been-a-hit "Holiday Road" for Vacation and it's a sign of the lack of invention in European Vacation that this gets hauled out twice to diminished effect. All it does is remind the audience how funny the first film was.
I recall a trend among TV shows of my childhood where there would be a feature-length movie in which the cast would go abroad and inevitably wind up in romantic entanglements and usually encounter a jewel thief. Family Ties went to London. The Facts of Life did it twice: going to England the first time and "Down Under" the second time. I bring this up because European Vacation feels like one of those pointless, only vaguely enjoyable excursions. Plus, in a show of creative bankruptcy, it actually brings on a pair of thieves in the third act, as if to acknowledge that - lacking a Wally World style payoff - European Vacation is building towards absolutely nothing and needs to resort to a car chase and gun play.
The Griswolds go abroad for two weeks on the Continent and the basic joke, repeated ad infinitum, is that the "foreigners" are rude, vulgar and, in subtitles for our benefit, condescending towards the clan. The Griswolds, for their part, are annoying pains in the ass, equally unpleasant to be around. The middle-class likable doofus that Clark was the first time around has been replaced with a hostile control freak intent on sucking the life out of his family unit. Robbie Coltrane and Eric Idle are wasted in supporting roles. Two of the most gratuitous displays of boobs ever occur in short succession (which I didn't complain about when I was ten, believe me). The late Dana Hill is saddled with a character whose obvious eating disorder is played for laughs. The list of inanities goes on.
Amy Heckerling directed this installment and I remain mystified how the talented helmer of Fast Times at Ridgemont High and Clueless signed off on something so cheap and sleazy. The material in the first film had its raunchy moments, but there was a good-natured shine to the proceedings. It laughed with the vulgarities, not at them. Hughes is given story and co-screenplay credit here and I can only wonder that the complete change in tone from the first film is a result of Robert (Weekend at Bernie's) Klane's contributions. The film opened better than the first Vacation with just over $12 million and came close to matching the original' gross.
European Vacation is mean-spirited and disappointing, though it has a handful of comic highlights, but Caddyshack II stands as one of the few movies I have ever experienced first-hand that qualifies as a black hole of comedy. Jokes may be struggling to get out but they wind up sucked back into the nothingness. I viewed it for free on Netflix and I wish there was a way I could get my money back. It came and went in about three weeks time in the summer of 1988, grossing barely a quarter of what Caddyshack did. The one-liner at the start of the column, courtesy of Chase, is as good as it gets.
Like European Vacation, Caddyshack II represents a bizarre trend among 1980s comedy franchises where a raunchy R-rated first chapter was followed by subsequent installments at a PG-13 and/or PG level, making them more kid and family friendly, I suppose. This seems to fly in the face of conventional box office wisdom (why tinker with a proven formula?) and indeed the follow-ups would go on to gross successively less. I am thinking of the Police Academy and Revenge of the Nerds series most obviously.
Caddyshack II was co-written by Ramis and directed by Allan Arkush, a man with some experience in the realm of cult slapstick comedies (Rock N Roll High School, Get Crazy). To say that it represents a downfall from the anarchic, anything-goes, comic rhythms of the original is an understatement. What results, quite shockingly, is a film that feels like a raunchy comedy rewritten and re-edited to get every joke down to the level of a tame nightclub routine. If not for Ramis' involvement, I would swear that Caddyshack II was a grade Z direct-to-video 1980s slobs vs. snobs tale that got the Caddyshack name slapped on it in order to finagle a theatrical release.
Jackie Mason takes over for Rodney Dangerfield and looks painfully uncomfortable doing so. When he is not delivering lines that probably worked best in his stand-up routine, he wears a "What, Me Worry?" expression that suggests he alone was viewing the daily rushes. A far too rigid and stone-faced Robert Stack reincarnates the stuffy apoplectic WASP archetype originally played by Ted Knight. The wackiness achieved by the irreplaceable Bill Murray as Carl the groundskeeper is split between Dan Aykroyd and Randy Quaid, both overacting and chewing scenery as if desperate for a meal. Aykroyd's high-pitched vocal tone, maintained for the length of his performance, is far worse than fingernails on a chalkboard. Then there is the shame of viewing Chase, the sole returning cast member, and his lifeless, soul-deadened performance. There are times when he literally walks out of a scene as if he couldn't be bothered to do anything further. I kept expecting him to flash the paycheck he was receiving and the contract which specified the bare minimum number of on-screen minutes he had to deliver to receive said check. Painful.
By default, Fletch Lives is the best of the three in that Chase appears to be playing the same character from the first film and his smart-ass nature jibes with that of his role. As mentioned earlier, I have no personal stake in the Fletch creation but Chase is an ideal fit playing someone who is a huckster at heart, even if that huckster is also a muckraking crusading journalist. Setting Fletch loose on a decaying Southern plantation for a would-be murder mystery isn't as enticing a prospect as the more twisty plot shenanigans in Fletch but Chase has a marvelous time playing off of R. Lee Ermey (as an oily televangelist) and the scenes where the two of them are plying away at would-be faith-healing have a wonderful feeling of one-upmanship. Chase's difficulty in conveying sincerity does result in perhaps the least likely reaction ever to waking up to find your one night stand has died on you. But moments like that are far between and Fletch Lives is a pleasant enough diversion. The sequel pulled in over half of the gross of the first Fletch ($35 million to $51 million) and taken with that winter's Christmas Vacation helped make 1989 Chase's last great year at the box office.
So what conclusions, if any, have I come to? A great theme song can only go so far in redeeming an awful movie. Chase should have made more movies with Goldie Hawn as the two of them had a definite chemistry. (Foul Play 2?) Looking back at what I liked as a kid is always a dicey prospect.
Next time: I need somebody. Not just anybody. You know I need someone.