There are certain things even the most skilled
artists shouldn't attempt. Adapting a cartoon like "Popeye
the Sailor Man" into a cinematic, live-action music is
one of those things. Coming off the momentum of his consistently
successful films of the Seventies, Robert Atlman bit off more
than he, or anyone, could handle with 1980's Popeye.
For his part, Altman made the best film from the elements he
had to work with, and for what it is, the film stands on its
own. But as part of the artist's oeuvre it's a complete failure.
It's a familiar story: the orphaned Popeye (Robin
Williams) arrives in the small coastal town of Sweet Haven,
where he runs into trouble with the local authority and bully
Bluto (Paul L. Smith), by stealing his bride-to-be, Olive Oyl
(Shelley Duvall). Along the way, the couple discover an abandoned
baby who they take in as their own, and lo and behold! Popeye
and his Pappy (Ray Walston) are reunited after thirty years.
Nothing is surprising in the script, and at times it's so predictable
and boring I was seriously tempted to simply turn the film off
(something I never do, no matter how bad it is.) The real problem
with the story is that it comes from a lame source. Of all the
classic cartoons from which they could create a musical comedy,
why they chose to adapt "Popeye" I'll never know.
I've never found the cartoon to be particularly comical, and
that element of it definitely translates into the film.
Altman does a good job of creating a classic musical
feel, both with visuals and direction. The colors are vivid,
the sets and staging are complex, and the costumes are lively
(and do represent the source comic very well.) Unfortunately,
as much as I consider him to be one of the foremost comedic
filmmakers of his generation, Altman is simply no good at slapstick,
and that's all Popeye is. His strength is a dry, subtle
humor, but cartoonish prat-falls and over-exagerated physical
comedy he is downright unable to pull off. As a result, I sat
through the entire film, nearly two hours, and never laughed
once. In fact, I had the opposite reaction to the jokes. There's
nothing sadder than an unfunny comedy that's really, really
trying.
The strongest part of the movie, and the one
element I found myself waiting eagerly for, were the songs
by Harry Nilssen. In his carefree, folky style, Nilssen adds
the highs to this otherwise low film once every ten minutes
or so. The best songs are "He Needs Me" (included
in Altman-influenced Paul Thomas Anderson's Punch-Drunk
Love), "I Am What I
Am" and the full-cast opening number "Sweet Haven."
They're anything but typical musical theater styled songs,
but that's exactly what this dry film needs—something new
and original.
One thing to compliment the film on was the casting.
At the time, Robin Williams was best known for his portrayal
of television sitcom alien Mork, and he's not the first person
I'd think of when casting Popeye in my head. But true to form,
his unmatched talent at mimicry make him the perfect performer
for the role. Shelley Duvall, a frequent favorite of Altman
throughout the Seventies, seems to have been made to play the
lanky, squeeky-voiced Olive Oyl. Other notable supporting cast
members are Ray Walston as Poopdeck Pappy, comedic genius Paul
Dooley as Wimpy, and Paul L. Smith as "large" Bluto.
There's no doubt in my mind why Altman harshly
criticized this film, and publicly denounced it from his canon.
The intentions were good, and some elements of execution, but
when it comes down to it, it's another overproduced musical
comedy, and an unfunny one at that. I'm thankful the director
was able to give the musical genre one more try, and with a
successful Altman spin on it as well, with his final film, A
Prairie Home Companion. As for Popeye, the film
could perhaps use a spinach boost to make it less painful to
get to the finich.
