Saturday Night at the Movies: Banana Republic

The Lighter Side of Lawlessness

You know those drivers who keep it ten miles below the speed limit in the left lane? I suspect they’re the same people who leave their shopping carts in the middle of the parking lot, and I hear they intermarry with the airport lounge denizens who enjoy loud, expletive-laden phone conversations while next to families with small children. Well, what if I told you that all these charmers got together with the nation’s door-to-door salesmen and they formed a union? And that this union (the CMAA, or Conglomeration of the Most Annoying Americans) were threatening to go on strike and deprive the public of their daily civic participation?

I imagine such collective action would meet with a reception rather similar to the one the current Writers Guild of America strike is currently facing. As the Babylon Bee puts it, “Nation Surprised To Find Out Late-Night TV Actually Had Writers”:

U.S. — Americans are in shock after late-night talk shows were forced to shut down amid a writer's strike, revealing the fact that late-night shows actually had writers.

"Wait, wait, wait... someone's actually writing this stuff? Like, on purpose?" said one local man upon hearing the news.

Hard as it to believe today, when a roomful of monkeys with typewriters would be a step up from current writer’s rooms, there was a period in American life when some of the very greatest comedy writers of all time were collaborating on your weekly televised entertainment.

Most Americans today have never heard of Sid Caesar, but his live comic variety TV show was such a big hit with audiences in the 1950s that it even took a toll on Broadway ticket sales every Saturday night. As another TV comedy icon, Carol Burnett, reminisced about those days, “I gave the tickets to my roommate because I said, My Fair Lady's gonna be running for a hundred years, but Sid Caesar is live and I'll never see that again."

How could Caesar’s show possibly compete with the legendary Julie Andrews? Well, here are a just a few names from his writer’s room: Mel Brooks, Neil Simon, Carl Reiner, Woody Allen. Each of those men, alone, is a giant of 20^th century comedy (all you need to know about the genius of the other three is that Reiner, creator of The Dick Van Dyke Show and winner of every comedy honor imaginable, is the runt of the litter) – but together, in the same room? Now that would have been a writer’s strike worth sweating over.

Tonight’s first topical movie choice comes from the very early days one of those writers. Since Annie Hall in 1977, Woody Allen wrote and directed a movie every single year – every single year! – throughout the 80s, 90s, 2000s, and 2010s. It seems the only thing capable of stopping his streak was worldwide civilizational lockdown, but I understand he’s already got a new one coming out later this year. True, not every film, particularly in the later years, was a hit, but even the flops among them, generally speaking, are more worthwhile than most cinematic fare these days. While his peak in the 70s and 80s is long gone, every once in a while, even in his later period (if you can call the 1990s the late period for a man still making movies in 2023), he’ll hit one out of the park – 1993’s Manhattan Murder Mystery is a favorite at our house, don’t miss it if you want a laugh. Incidentally, even when his movies might lose your interest, his music never will – the Great American Songbook, from “Moonglow” to “Stardust,” is practically guaranteed to feature on his soundtracks.

Allen’s peak – Annie Hall, Manhattan, Hannah and Her Sisters, add your own – speaks for itself, and love it or hate it, you don’t need my thoughts about it. Let me instead point you to his earlier, lesser-known work. For a few years, between Sid Caesar and his more heartfelt, mature productions, Allen was not trying to make great art, he was just trying to be funny. And he was very, very funny. His stand up comedy act from those days may be the best you’ll ever hear (here’s a preview, his moose hunting routine). His early movies were outright farces, full of supremely silly bits: the cellist in a marching band, the bank robber with illegible handwriting, and so on.

There is not much to say about our first movie tonight, Bananas, except that it’s from this very silly, early period. To get a sense of the sophistication, or lack thereof, of the humor at play here, I give you the power-mad Latin American dictator’s announcement to his people:

“All citizens will be required to change their underwear every half-hour. Underwear will be worn on the outside so we can check. Furthermore, all children under 16 years old are now... 16 years old!”

If that makes you laugh, give the movie a try!   

Believe it or not, Allen’s insane revolutionary is not the most outrageous banana republic leader to be featured in 1970s comedy. That award goes to the general in The In-Laws. The Sid Caesar connection here is a bit of a stretch, but the screenwriter, Andrew Bergman, got his start on the comedy masterpiece Blazing Saddles, made by Caesar graduate Mel Brooks. Unlike Bananas, The In-Laws is a cohesive film, with a real plot, real character development, not just silly jokes – but it’s also absolutely hilarious. If you can watch just one, I’d go with The In-Laws. The set-up: the daughter of a respectable, mild-mannered New York City dentist, played by Alan Arkin, is about to be married. Arkin and his wife meet their future in-laws. They do not hit it off. The groom’s father, played by Peter Falk (yes, the brilliant, not-as-bumbling-as-he-seems star of the great Columbo detective series), is anything but respectable and mild-mannered. In fact, he is either a CIA operative involved in an elaborate heist linked to Central American revolutionaries, or a completely insane man convinced he’s a CIA operative – or possibly both. Either way, he manages to get Arkin embroiled in life-threatening danger, and many funny, exciting hijinks ensue. And yes, the thrilling conclusion takes place in a very memorable banana republic, whose leader makes Woody Allen’s version look positively Churchillian in comparison.

I suppose it’s a lot easier to laugh at banana republics when you’re not living in one, but hopefully you’ll find some smiles in tonight’s selections. If not, there’s always reruns of Sid Caesar!

Thank you for reading, and have a great weekend!