Martin & Lewis films are not among my favorites. Hollywood shot these with low money and easy-going scripts to appeal to the vast majority of adults and children, easily cashing in on as many and as fast as possible. Quantity over quality, which Elvis' filmography can tell you a lot about. The Stooge is the best one, simply by the fact that I wasn't expecting more than fun but insipid slapstick 50s comedy. Not that this movie doesn't provide stuff of the sort at points, but I wasn't expecting something deep, or moving, or carefully thought out. It separates itself from other pictures Jerry Lewis used to make, and it is quite weird the way it does it.
Dean Martin's character Bill Miller, a performer looking for a replacement for his old partner, is told to get a "stooge". A stooge would be an unintentional partner, a man that isn't bright enough to realize he's the main focus of the laughter coming from the audience. Without a stooge Bill is worthless. The stooge, of course, is Jerry Lewis, or in this case, Ted Rogers, and he is the greatest one you could find. Once they meet they go on the road to present stage shows as their relationship evolves.
The Stooge was the first film production to ever feature the duo, given that prior, any "Martin & Lewis" association would come from their live comedy shows. Here's where this movie confuses the hell out of me, because it tells the story of two young men, a seductive yet talented singer and a dumb but lovable stooge, that hit it big given their chemistry, and it evolves to a point were the former starts to take advantage of the latter's talent without him realizing it, and without giving him any credit. Is this a premonition? Because Jerry Lewis, as many posterior films would confirm, had potential to carry an act all by himself; Dean Martin wasn't talented enough to do so. It is so ahead of its own effects, that it actually seems like the equivalent to what Limelight meant for Charlie Chaplin's career: a fictionalized version of real struggles regarding success and vulnerability as an artist. Limelight came out decades after Chaplin had turned into the most famous performer of his era. This movie plays like Martin & Lewis' last and most conscious film, but is actually their first.
We get to see first hand what Martin & Lewis' Broadway acts were all about: ridiculous, hilarious musical pieces between a prince and a clown. The catalogue of movies they did after this very film launched them to stardom, but are tasteless and lack empathy for their characters by way of cheap laughs, resembling the sketches Bill and Ted perform on the shows in The Stooge. This is the most self-aware film the duo ever made, and it is self-aware of something that hadn't really been laid to tape. It is an accidental realization of meta writing.
This is not to say that Jerry Lewis wasn't funny, he was, and Dean Martin was a great partner of his. But the film isn't much of a Martin & Lewis comedy, as it is a closer look on Martin & Lewis themselves, explored through fictional events. Bill is not Martin given that he is quite cynical at times, even if he has moments of redemption, and Ted is not Lewis given Lewis in real life was not the fool he appeared to be. The performances may seem as one-dimensional as they usually would be, but the script flips it into a superior and more interesting thing. Bill tears his wife Mary apart without realizing it by how uncaring he is of Ted's presence. Mary adores Ted and wants the best for him, given Ted is too innocent and humble to ask Bill, to him his best friend, to treat him as an equal. This and more drama ensues.
There are genuine moments of love and caring, memorable scenes, for instance when Ted composes a song for Bill to sing Mary, and in a moment when she is upset in the next room, Bill sings the song to her, guided by Ted. Also, there's a love story between Jerry Lewis' character and Marion Marshall's character, Frecklehead. We get to see Ted's first kiss, and his reaction is a funny expression of amusement followed by the line "that didn't had any effect on me whatsoever". Then Lewis falls through the stairs and it is hilarious as well. This is what I mean, Jerry Lewis is still Jerry Lewis as you know him, but there are layers of felt emotion behind. The final moments are great, Bill realizing he is nothing without Ted and being unable to bare having an indifferent crowd, swallows his ego and apologizes before Ted appears to save his act, and the rest of his career. It is nothing but wholesome. In moments like these the movie puts comedic effect aside, and their chemistry functions as an actual tool to tell an impressive, heartfelt story.
I have complaints though. The ideal version of The Stooge would be one in which these characters, even if cartoonish, have moments of real pain and joy while keeping the performances consistent. Whenever there's a show, the movie is trying to let us experience a Martin & Lewis' Vegas performance. It shouldn't be doing that in the raw. Because Ted's performances seem too smart. Ted is supposed to be a very simple man, that isn't that bright. A stooge, if you will. But there are moments in the film were he suddenly changes his voice to a deeper tone for comedic effect, or he tells a joke with suspiciously perfect timing. And it's funny, sure, but that doesn't come from Ted, that comes from Lewis himself and it misrepresents the character.
It's surreal. Subtly. How is it that a "stooge" can be funny all the time? Nobody in real life is unintentionally and adequately funny when they are needed to be. At first it tickled me a little bit but then I started realizing that the movie wants to portray the concept of a "stooge" as a literally magical walking comedy show. If you think of it that way it is understandable. That is not the problem, however. It's the unassuming and nonchalant response from Bill and everybody else. They just seem to naturally accept he's been touched by God to be the ultimate neverending butt of the joke. Not on stage, but in life itself, which kind of blurs the line between what is real and what is fiction, when it should've been one of the two instead.
Those times when we are genuinely sorry for Bill's treatment of Ted, or mad because of Mary's feelings towards Bill, or charmed by the lovely relationship between Ted and Frecklehead, are somehow forgotten the moment Lewis' breaks character, and does something that is genuinely and consciously smart and funny, which is something Ted would never do, given the portrayal of the character in the first act. That aside, and some overacting coming from Marion Marshall, the movie is quite a treat.
It's in a different category than something as shallow as Who's Minding the Store? Or Rock-a-Bye Baby. Not that those are terrible, but they don't have the cleverness and depth this movie particularly has. The Stooge as a general script is a delight. It is sad and beautiful and a pleasant surprise for those who have been eating up those clichéd Martin & Lewis films, and want to see something touching. On the other hand, the actual shows by Martin & Lewis are funny and original, and, I suspect, peak material of their stage comedy. These two aspects don't fully compliment each other, but if you can separate them, and appreciate them that way, I'm sure you'll have one of your best watches in a long time, just as I did.
Tight 8/10.
Dean Martin's character Bill Miller, a performer looking for a replacement for his old partner, is told to get a "stooge". A stooge would be an unintentional partner, a man that isn't bright enough to realize he's the main focus of the laughter coming from the audience. Without a stooge Bill is worthless. The stooge, of course, is Jerry Lewis, or in this case, Ted Rogers, and he is the greatest one you could find. Once they meet they go on the road to present stage shows as their relationship evolves.
The Stooge was the first film production to ever feature the duo, given that prior, any "Martin & Lewis" association would come from their live comedy shows. Here's where this movie confuses the hell out of me, because it tells the story of two young men, a seductive yet talented singer and a dumb but lovable stooge, that hit it big given their chemistry, and it evolves to a point were the former starts to take advantage of the latter's talent without him realizing it, and without giving him any credit. Is this a premonition? Because Jerry Lewis, as many posterior films would confirm, had potential to carry an act all by himself; Dean Martin wasn't talented enough to do so. It is so ahead of its own effects, that it actually seems like the equivalent to what Limelight meant for Charlie Chaplin's career: a fictionalized version of real struggles regarding success and vulnerability as an artist. Limelight came out decades after Chaplin had turned into the most famous performer of his era. This movie plays like Martin & Lewis' last and most conscious film, but is actually their first.
We get to see first hand what Martin & Lewis' Broadway acts were all about: ridiculous, hilarious musical pieces between a prince and a clown. The catalogue of movies they did after this very film launched them to stardom, but are tasteless and lack empathy for their characters by way of cheap laughs, resembling the sketches Bill and Ted perform on the shows in The Stooge. This is the most self-aware film the duo ever made, and it is self-aware of something that hadn't really been laid to tape. It is an accidental realization of meta writing.
This is not to say that Jerry Lewis wasn't funny, he was, and Dean Martin was a great partner of his. But the film isn't much of a Martin & Lewis comedy, as it is a closer look on Martin & Lewis themselves, explored through fictional events. Bill is not Martin given that he is quite cynical at times, even if he has moments of redemption, and Ted is not Lewis given Lewis in real life was not the fool he appeared to be. The performances may seem as one-dimensional as they usually would be, but the script flips it into a superior and more interesting thing. Bill tears his wife Mary apart without realizing it by how uncaring he is of Ted's presence. Mary adores Ted and wants the best for him, given Ted is too innocent and humble to ask Bill, to him his best friend, to treat him as an equal. This and more drama ensues.
There are genuine moments of love and caring, memorable scenes, for instance when Ted composes a song for Bill to sing Mary, and in a moment when she is upset in the next room, Bill sings the song to her, guided by Ted. Also, there's a love story between Jerry Lewis' character and Marion Marshall's character, Frecklehead. We get to see Ted's first kiss, and his reaction is a funny expression of amusement followed by the line "that didn't had any effect on me whatsoever". Then Lewis falls through the stairs and it is hilarious as well. This is what I mean, Jerry Lewis is still Jerry Lewis as you know him, but there are layers of felt emotion behind. The final moments are great, Bill realizing he is nothing without Ted and being unable to bare having an indifferent crowd, swallows his ego and apologizes before Ted appears to save his act, and the rest of his career. It is nothing but wholesome. In moments like these the movie puts comedic effect aside, and their chemistry functions as an actual tool to tell an impressive, heartfelt story.
I have complaints though. The ideal version of The Stooge would be one in which these characters, even if cartoonish, have moments of real pain and joy while keeping the performances consistent. Whenever there's a show, the movie is trying to let us experience a Martin & Lewis' Vegas performance. It shouldn't be doing that in the raw. Because Ted's performances seem too smart. Ted is supposed to be a very simple man, that isn't that bright. A stooge, if you will. But there are moments in the film were he suddenly changes his voice to a deeper tone for comedic effect, or he tells a joke with suspiciously perfect timing. And it's funny, sure, but that doesn't come from Ted, that comes from Lewis himself and it misrepresents the character.
It's surreal. Subtly. How is it that a "stooge" can be funny all the time? Nobody in real life is unintentionally and adequately funny when they are needed to be. At first it tickled me a little bit but then I started realizing that the movie wants to portray the concept of a "stooge" as a literally magical walking comedy show. If you think of it that way it is understandable. That is not the problem, however. It's the unassuming and nonchalant response from Bill and everybody else. They just seem to naturally accept he's been touched by God to be the ultimate neverending butt of the joke. Not on stage, but in life itself, which kind of blurs the line between what is real and what is fiction, when it should've been one of the two instead.
Those times when we are genuinely sorry for Bill's treatment of Ted, or mad because of Mary's feelings towards Bill, or charmed by the lovely relationship between Ted and Frecklehead, are somehow forgotten the moment Lewis' breaks character, and does something that is genuinely and consciously smart and funny, which is something Ted would never do, given the portrayal of the character in the first act. That aside, and some overacting coming from Marion Marshall, the movie is quite a treat.
It's in a different category than something as shallow as Who's Minding the Store? Or Rock-a-Bye Baby. Not that those are terrible, but they don't have the cleverness and depth this movie particularly has. The Stooge as a general script is a delight. It is sad and beautiful and a pleasant surprise for those who have been eating up those clichéd Martin & Lewis films, and want to see something touching. On the other hand, the actual shows by Martin & Lewis are funny and original, and, I suspect, peak material of their stage comedy. These two aspects don't fully compliment each other, but if you can separate them, and appreciate them that way, I'm sure you'll have one of your best watches in a long time, just as I did.
Tight 8/10.